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colin_cox's review against another edition
Todd McGowan's The Fictional Christopher Nolan argues that Nolan's films communicate truth in a way that might seem counterintuitive to many spectators. Early in The Fictional Christopher Nolan, McGowan claims, "The typical Nolan film has the formal structure of a lie designed to deceive the spectator concerning the events that occur and the motivations of the characters. Nolan uses the form of deception to constitute an ethical philosophy rooted in the ontological primacy of the lie. Nolan's films do not abandon the idea of truth altogether, but they show us how truth must emerge out of the lie if it is not to lead us entirely astray" (1). The roots of McGowan's claim lie in psychoanalysis, specifically the primacy psychoanalysis places on misrecognition and misinterpretation. Lacan's les non-dupes errent is a concept that emphasizes, paradoxically, how any attempt to circumvent the symbolic order by seeking the truth outside of it is a double or deeper deception. Slavoj Zizek succinctly articulates this concept by suggesting, "those who do not let themselves be caught in the symbolic deception/fiction...are the ones who err most." Therefore, to arrive at the truth, we must seek it through the lie. If we attempt to circumvent the lie (i.e., the symbolic), we only increase our alienation from the truth, or as McGowan claims, "Those who refuse to become dupes, who refuse to accept the fiction, ironically abandon the field of truth entirely" (5).
Here, McGowan articulates the ethical dimensions of misrecognition by continuing the psychoanalytic tradition of placing far greater emphasis on the form of a phenomenon rather than its content. Nolan's Batman in Batman Begins makes this very point when he says, "It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me." Here, he encourages his audience (both the spectator and within the film's diegesis, Rachel Dawes) to take his form (i.e., his Batman alter-ego) seriously, far more so than what might exist behind or "underneath" it. By asking for his name, which Rachel demands, she shows how her proclamation from earlier in the film, "It's not who you are underneath, it's what you do that defines you," a proclamation Batman cleverly appropriates, exceeds her. To understand what Batman means, we should look no further than the form he assumes, or as McGowan suggests, "Batman identifies what is essential about Bruce--the trauma with the bats that shapes his existence and his ability to confront trauma" (6).
But I want to return to this claim that misrecognition is ethical. McGowan argues, "Some fiction is necessary to make life worth living at all, and Nolan's films draw attention to this to make the moment at which value--what gives existence its worth--emerges. They don't encourage lying but rather the recognition of both the role that deceit or fiction has in the creation of value and the recognition of truth's dependence on this creative fiction. This is Nolan's ethic of the lie" (11). This sense of "value" resides in the embrace of fiction (i.e., the lie) as all there is. A path to truth that circumvents the lie does not exist, just like a path to the "transcendent beyond" that circumvents the mundane world also does not exist. As McGowan claims, this point is deeply Hegelian: "we discover truth not through separating ourselves from fiction but through fully succumbing to it" (16). Therefore, Nolan's films much like Belinda Carlisle's most successful pop hit, understand that "heaven" is forever and only discoverable as "a place on earth." In summary, Nolan's films are a rejection of an outside to fiction. His films are "a total investment in the completeness of the cinematic fiction" (17).
McGowan's reading of Nolan's 2006 The Prestige is the book's high-water mark since The Prestige is arguably Nolan's most succinct articulation of artistic creation and self-sacrifice. The film is a celebration of sacrifice because, in Nolan's hands, the sacrificial act bears witness to subjectivity's lack and eschews any notion of wholeness. McGowan writes, "Self-sacrifice functions ideologically when it is tied to the promise of a recovered wholeness for the subject...An emancipatory self-sacrifice, by contrast, works to shatter the image of wholeness" (112). Consistently reiterating the impossibility of recapturing a sense of wholeness or completeness is one of the reasons why psychoanalysis seems so pessimistic. But the point psychoanalysis wants to make, which is similar, in some respects, to the point Marxism wants to make, hinges on the notion that any promise of a return to a whole or complete state of being is nothing more than an ideological declaration. But the contrast McGowan makes between ideological self-sacrifice and emancipatory self-sacrifice is similar to the hypothetical contrast between a song Belinda Carlisle never wrote, let us call it "Heaven Is a Place Beyond the Mundanity of This Feeble Earth, Just Keep Looking," and the one she actually wrote, "Heaven Is a Place on Earth."
But what is important to understand when reckoning with McGowan's reading of The Prestige is how the film celebrates both sacrifice and spectacle without necessarily elevating one over the other. McGowan writes, "The film creates an illusion that returns us to the sacrifice rather repressing it. What the film thereby shows is that the spectacle of the illusion does not just require past sacrifice; it also leads one back down the path of sacrifice and loss. The narrative structure of The Prestige challenges the obfuscatory power of the cinematic medium by juxtaposing sacrifice and spectacle, but it does so in order to celebrate both rather than to condemn either one" (121). Throughout the film, Nolan fabricates a distinction between the film's two main characters, Angier (Hugh Jackman) and Borden (Christian Bale). For most of the film, Nolan leads us to think that Angier is a vapid showman while Borden, by contrast, is a sober tactician. But the film's ending reveals that these binary categories are too simplistic. Both characters embody forms of sacrifice and spectacle just in different ways. What is fascinating about The Prestige is how we, the audience, arrive at this realization through the lie of cinema itself, specifically, Nolan's unique brand of disjointed, non-linear cinema. We arrive at a more profound truth about these characters, this film, film itself, and the act of artistic production through the film's lie, not by circumventing it.
McGowan published The Fictional Christopher Nolan in 2012. Since its initial publication, Nolan has made several new films, including a third and final film in his Dark Knight trilogy. I would like to know what McGowan thinks of Nolan's cinematic efforts since the publication of The Fictional Christopher Nolan, especially if he thinks Nolan's commitment to the ethics of the lie still holds.
Here, McGowan articulates the ethical dimensions of misrecognition by continuing the psychoanalytic tradition of placing far greater emphasis on the form of a phenomenon rather than its content. Nolan's Batman in Batman Begins makes this very point when he says, "It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me." Here, he encourages his audience (both the spectator and within the film's diegesis, Rachel Dawes) to take his form (i.e., his Batman alter-ego) seriously, far more so than what might exist behind or "underneath" it. By asking for his name, which Rachel demands, she shows how her proclamation from earlier in the film, "It's not who you are underneath, it's what you do that defines you," a proclamation Batman cleverly appropriates, exceeds her. To understand what Batman means, we should look no further than the form he assumes, or as McGowan suggests, "Batman identifies what is essential about Bruce--the trauma with the bats that shapes his existence and his ability to confront trauma" (6).
But I want to return to this claim that misrecognition is ethical. McGowan argues, "Some fiction is necessary to make life worth living at all, and Nolan's films draw attention to this to make the moment at which value--what gives existence its worth--emerges. They don't encourage lying but rather the recognition of both the role that deceit or fiction has in the creation of value and the recognition of truth's dependence on this creative fiction. This is Nolan's ethic of the lie" (11). This sense of "value" resides in the embrace of fiction (i.e., the lie) as all there is. A path to truth that circumvents the lie does not exist, just like a path to the "transcendent beyond" that circumvents the mundane world also does not exist. As McGowan claims, this point is deeply Hegelian: "we discover truth not through separating ourselves from fiction but through fully succumbing to it" (16). Therefore, Nolan's films much like Belinda Carlisle's most successful pop hit, understand that "heaven" is forever and only discoverable as "a place on earth." In summary, Nolan's films are a rejection of an outside to fiction. His films are "a total investment in the completeness of the cinematic fiction" (17).
McGowan's reading of Nolan's 2006 The Prestige is the book's high-water mark since The Prestige is arguably Nolan's most succinct articulation of artistic creation and self-sacrifice. The film is a celebration of sacrifice because, in Nolan's hands, the sacrificial act bears witness to subjectivity's lack and eschews any notion of wholeness. McGowan writes, "Self-sacrifice functions ideologically when it is tied to the promise of a recovered wholeness for the subject...An emancipatory self-sacrifice, by contrast, works to shatter the image of wholeness" (112). Consistently reiterating the impossibility of recapturing a sense of wholeness or completeness is one of the reasons why psychoanalysis seems so pessimistic. But the point psychoanalysis wants to make, which is similar, in some respects, to the point Marxism wants to make, hinges on the notion that any promise of a return to a whole or complete state of being is nothing more than an ideological declaration. But the contrast McGowan makes between ideological self-sacrifice and emancipatory self-sacrifice is similar to the hypothetical contrast between a song Belinda Carlisle never wrote, let us call it "Heaven Is a Place Beyond the Mundanity of This Feeble Earth, Just Keep Looking," and the one she actually wrote, "Heaven Is a Place on Earth."
But what is important to understand when reckoning with McGowan's reading of The Prestige is how the film celebrates both sacrifice and spectacle without necessarily elevating one over the other. McGowan writes, "The film creates an illusion that returns us to the sacrifice rather repressing it. What the film thereby shows is that the spectacle of the illusion does not just require past sacrifice; it also leads one back down the path of sacrifice and loss. The narrative structure of The Prestige challenges the obfuscatory power of the cinematic medium by juxtaposing sacrifice and spectacle, but it does so in order to celebrate both rather than to condemn either one" (121). Throughout the film, Nolan fabricates a distinction between the film's two main characters, Angier (Hugh Jackman) and Borden (Christian Bale). For most of the film, Nolan leads us to think that Angier is a vapid showman while Borden, by contrast, is a sober tactician. But the film's ending reveals that these binary categories are too simplistic. Both characters embody forms of sacrifice and spectacle just in different ways. What is fascinating about The Prestige is how we, the audience, arrive at this realization through the lie of cinema itself, specifically, Nolan's unique brand of disjointed, non-linear cinema. We arrive at a more profound truth about these characters, this film, film itself, and the act of artistic production through the film's lie, not by circumventing it.
McGowan published The Fictional Christopher Nolan in 2012. Since its initial publication, Nolan has made several new films, including a third and final film in his Dark Knight trilogy. I would like to know what McGowan thinks of Nolan's cinematic efforts since the publication of The Fictional Christopher Nolan, especially if he thinks Nolan's commitment to the ethics of the lie still holds.
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