<<TRANSMATHOME

PLEASURE, PERVERSION AND DEATH
Three Lines of Flight for the Viewing Body

Patricia MacCormack

contents
bibliography

filmography


4. CONCLUSION
The Ethics of Becoming

4.0
4.1
Subjectivity and Lived Bodies
4.2 Feminist Problems with Post-Modern Subjectivity
4.3 Becoming-Woman and Other Male Phantasies
4.4 Becoming Horror

4.0

There are three main areas that need ethical qualification if this book is to stand, not only as an exploratory exercise in transformation through film, but as a valuable addition to feminist, and even post-structural, philosophy. The first is the implications for the transforming subject in being or remaining an accountable, communitarian or at least social self. The second is the potential uses of horror towards transformation in relation to its historical connection to madness and war. Finally a further consideration is how my project utilizes horror towards a different result, that of becoming.

I am not interested primarily in inter-subjective relations, or a prescription for practices that foreground these relations as ‘authentic feminist’ or other supposedly or implicitly ‘good’ modes of behavior and thought. Inter-subjective relations, however, can not be excluded from my research if it is to posit any theories, which are considerable as ethical. My theories stand at a point where a re-figuring of the self is necessary, and therefore a re-figuring of inter-subjective relations will necessarily be altered as a result of new, different and more ‘ethical’ (affirming of difference in space and time) ways of being.

There is a prevalent fiction in Western Americanized culture about watching horror film. It is a fiction in the same way that the law is a fiction, and Lacan’s symbolic is a fiction, because it is a structure that exists arbitrarily, but elicits an outraged response if it is broken, a pact society has amongst itself. There is nothing real or unbreakable about such a fiction, but to properly be in culture, subjects are required to obey the fiction and behave according to it, despite the fact they can break it or disregard it at any point. [1] When analyzed in the lounge room on the couch in front of a horror film, the scenario reads thus: A pubescent boy, not a child but not a man, watches horror films over and over for a ‘thrill’. This thrill has been theorized as a catharsis of castration anxiety of which the adolescent male is still in the throes (Clover [2] ) and the conflation of sex and death (Creed [3] ) among other things. Such a youth is learning at a seminal and vulnerable phase of his development that sex is sexier with (female) death, that castration is nothing to be scared of because women will always be more castrated. Horror in this scenario is usually accompanied by laughter at the ridiculousness of the film scenes. They do not make much sense, they are ‘gross’ and not to be taken very seriously, even such a young boy knows this. And they are silly, especially compared with the moody silent German films and the incomprehensible French films that his parents watch before trundling off to lecture at film school. But this is why horror films are so dangerous. They are infective. The boy laughs and simultaneously incorporates detrimental ideas about horror, sex and death. What if the wrong person watches the films? Mentally awry people? Impressionable people? What if the viewer does not read the film right and goes out to re-perform it? What if a woman watches? She will be offended of course, but may ‘do’ a feminist de-construction of why the film is so bad. The viewer needs to learn how to properly read the horror film so it does not get out of control because horror films always breed violent desire, right?

Why is horror film not read as detrimental to the self first? Why is the idea of rupturing the self always overwritten with desire to rupture an other? How can horror be ethical when it only causes such suffering among others? Conversely why is the horror film silly, ridiculously un-academic unless it is available for deconstruction? Why is horror film, either way, trash? [4] It must be either thrown away as stupid or diligently prohibited as trashy for the self in reference to how the self will interact with others after watching. How can we theorize an ethics of anything when the self can only be figured violently as enforcing upon others? Why is the self so adamantly not a site for violence upon the self? Success in Western culture is how much we can create or build up a self and maintain it as such. But horror films affect the self towards something in consideration of others in the self, a consideration that spreads to others outside the self and completely repudiates any desire to pass as successful subject. Horror’s bad effect is seen as detrimental to the forming boy, who must soon cement as a subject. Any incorporation will, by bouncing off this cemented subject, inflict upon others, presumably violently, so adolescence is the last time enjoying a horror film can be allowed. But even horror film is cemented into a subject.

To the majority of people, both academic and not, horror is either slasher and hence American (Friday the 13th (Sean S. Cunningham, US, 1981) and its many offshoots) or arty and (old) European (Das Cabinet Des Dr. Caligari (‘The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,’ Robert Weine, Germany, 1919) et al). Any horror outside this binary is ‘specialized’, obscure or in another way unworthy of filmic analysis. [5] Often it is too offensive. As long as violence toward others is the only ethical consideration that comes to mind when considering the television viewer of such films, then the subject itself can never be refigured, and the incredible affective potentials of these films will go untheorized. I have demanded in this book we come to such a theorization, and from it, an ethics can and will, in the following section, be theorized. My work then, is a de-realization of the phantasmatically real effect of the banality of watching a television. It is a de-realization of the power of the fiction of the law of watching horror that takes, despite being a fiction, the real as the produced result of its transgression. But such a banality is the very thing that will allow the seemingly futuristic and sometimes unattainable theories of Deleuze and Guattari to be potentially available to all subjects.

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Notes:

Conclusion

[1] My idea of the social legislative phantasy of watching horror relating to the fiction of criminal law and Lacanian symbolic law was inspired by Renata Salecl’s “Cut in the Body: From Clitoridectomy to Body Art” in New Formations: A Journal of Culture/Theory/Politics. Number 35: ‘The Ethics of Violence’. Autumn 1998, pp. 28-42, especially pp. 36-7.

[2] Clover, 1992, pp. 6-7 and 113-119 in particular.

[3] Creed, 1993, p. 128. These ideas have been explored in the introduction.

[4] Jack Stevenson claims that something is trash because it cannot be subsumed, “Here was Trash the critics could not co-opt.” Stevenson, ‘Trash Ain’t Garbage: Analyzing a New Aesthetic in Cinema’. Blimp Film Magazine. Issue 35, 1996, pp. 59-64, quote p. 63. Trash is trash only because it is unable to be subsumed or co-opted, by legislative law fiction, by film law fiction (what is art and what is not) and even by everyday television watching fiction (do not watch that, its trashy – from soaps to talk shows). Because Australian media is so Americanized, the capital-ly useful, desirable or unattainable (intellectually or otherwise)  is that which should be watched. That which exceeds such demands is trash, not simply because it is not capital-ly ‘good’ but because it is capital-ly excessive or useless, but pleasurable nonetheless. Trash insinuates more than something to be thrown away. With the word trash comes the prohibited legislature of ‘do not touch it, it’s dirty’ or infective. This fear of trash masquerades behind laughter about it, a feeling of supremacy over it and a violent drive, not simply to ignore it, but to adamantly throw it away immediately.

[5] Although this is changing. Euro horror of the type I discuss has usually been relegated to the realm of fanzines, such as Delerium, written by people (although on the whole usually men) with a genuine interest in the subversive aspects of such films. The fanzines have, more than other fanzines, frequently crossed the line from simply blurb type reviews to highly theoretical writing, sometimes ending up as journals, such as Necronomicon. Few books have tackled these films however, with the notable exception being Kerekes’ and Slater’s Killing for Culture, 1993, and Brottman’s Offensive Films 1997. These books are rather traditional in their analyses of the films however. The forthcoming Harper, Graeme and Mendik, Xavier, eds. Violated Bodies: Extreme Film. London: Creation Books, forthcoming, may be a welcomed addition to the study of the genre of what Brottman calls the unconscious of horror film, 1997, pp. 14-15.