Especially in the books co-authored with Felix Guattari, Deleuze has taken up much of the agenda of Foucault's project, notably his anti-Freudianism and his concern with the micro-politics of power, in view of promoting more open (i.e. non-family based) communities and an egalitarian, non-repressive society. Foucault once famously said that 'perhaps one day, this century will be known as Deleuzian' (Foucault 1977: 165), arguing that Deleuze causes us to reflect on matters that philosophy has neglected through centuries: the event (assimilated in a concept from which we vainly attempted to extract it in the form of a fact, verifying a proposition, of actual experience, a modality of the subject, of concreteness, the empirical content of history); and the phantasm (reduced in the name of reality and situated at the extremity, the pathological pole of a normative sequence: perception-image-memory-illusion).

(Foucault 1977: 180)

Redistributing oppositions such as truth/illusion, fact/experience, history/ pathology across such terms as 'event' and 'phantasm' may seem very tempting when thinking about the cinematic experience as a spatio-temporal event that can engage the viewer with heightened perceptual-sensory intensity. But before trying to do so, some broader considerations are in order. Like Foucault, Deleuze is an anti-foundational, post-structuralist thinker, which for those hostile to so-called 'Continental philosophy' merely connotes neo-Romantic anti-rationalism and a typically postmodern relativism. In fact, not that different from Anglo-American philosophy, Deleuze is> against totalizing theories or systems (e.g. those of Hegel, Marx, Freud), and favours a piecemeal ('micro') approach to political as well as theoretical problems. Also not unlike analytic philosophers, Deleuze is anti-Saussurean (preferring the semiotics of Charles Sanders Peirce) and anti-psychoanalytic (though his theory of the brain might not find favour with cognitivists).

In line with most French thinkers of the past 50 years, Deleuze has had to come to terms with the political failure of socialism in general and May 1968 in particular. This is why some commentators have accused him (and Guattari) of having opted in their politics for a pre-Marxist version of anarcho-communism, with a Utopian but also dangerous penchant for, on the one hand, a Maoist-style ultra-radicalism and, on the other, a primitive/tribal view of political economy, revolving around the gift and potlatch, around symbolic exchange and communitarian reciprocity, while violently opposed to market capitalism, representational democracy, and the institutionalization of laissez-faire liberalism (see Richard Barbrook, 'The Holy Fools', in Pisters 2001: 159-76).

If Deleuze, too, draws his basic thinking from Nietzsche, one could argue that it is from the affirmative 'gay science' side of Nietzsche that he takes his cue, rather than by embracing the relentlessly negative, acerbic critique of bourgeois society and Christian morality that appealed to Foucault.

Also unlike Foucault, Deleuze did pronounce on the cinema in two major books. These, as already mentioned, are primarily concerned with countering the linguistic-semiotic turn in film theory. They recast the phenomenological realism of the previous generation of French film scholars around André Bazin in a language of sensory immediacy and bodily perception. Deleuze also seeks to define a historical break between classical and modern cinema, by dividing the cinema between what he calls the movement-image and the timeimage. Perhaps paradoxically, it seemed to us that only some of the concepts elaborated in the cinema books are relevant to the issues discussed in this chapter, while others we are introducing originate from Deleuze's more generally philosophical or literary texts.

Thus, thinking with Deleuze about cinema raises a delicate issue: which Deleuze are we talking about? Foucault, in the passage cited above, was reviewing The Logic of Sense (Deleuze 1990), but there is also the Deleuze of Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia (1985) and A Thousand Plateaus (1987) (both co-written with Felix Guattari), who develops challenging concepts that have been applied to the cinema, besides the two cinema books themselves (The Movement Image and The Time Image). Still others prefer Deleuze's writings on Foucault, Kafka, Proust, and Francis Bacon, or The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque (Deleuze 1992) as a source for ideas about the cinema. For instance, Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia already in the title makes clear that Deleuze and Guattari's thinking is anti-psychoanalytical. There, they reject Lacan's notion of desire as lack, claiming that it is a move that colludes with the dominant bourgeois ideology in much the same way that Foucault accused Freud's theory of the Oedipus complex as extending the regime of confession and self-monitoring, instituted by the church and the bourgeois state.

Second, Deleuze has argued that, for his own film theory, the look (or gaze theory as it is sometimes called) is far less relevant than the almost constitutive place it occupies for psychoanalytic and feminist film theory:

I'm not sure the notion of the look is absolutely necessary. The eye is already there in things, it's part of the image, the image's visibility The eye isn't the camera, it's the screen. As for the camera, with all its propositional functions, it's a sort of third eye, the mind's eye. You cite Hitchcock: he does, it is true, bring the viewer into the film. But that's nothing to do with the look. It's rather because he frames the action in a whole network of relations. ... The frame for him is like a tapestry frame: it holds within it the network of relations, while the action is just a thread moving in and out of the network. What Hitchcock thus brings into the cinema, then, is the mental image ... he goes beyond the action-image to something deeper, mental relations, a kind of vision.

(Deleuze 1997: 54-5)

Third, unlike Foucault, Deleuze has said little explicitly about gender and sexuality. In fact, he seems to have avoided any direct engagement with the discussion around sexual difference, feminism, gay politics, or queer theory. But on some of the questions that stand behind these debates - 'seeing' (vision) vs 'saying' (discourse), biological vs constructivist identity, psyche vs body - Deleuze does hold decisive views and has developed strong concepts (mostly elaborated in A Thousand Plateaus, e.g. 'deterritorialization' and the 'body-without-organs', 'becoming ... woman' and 'body, brain, thought',

'desiring machines', and the 'rhizome' i.e. non-hierarchical, multiform, reversible relations and connections with respect to 'identity polities'). These offer a rich conceptual vocabulary or network of metaphors with which to think about 'body matters' also in the cinema (see Pisters 2001).

Finally, Deleuze's idea of the 'fold' has been transferred from the Baroque to the cinema, in order to differentiate between classical and modern cinema (possibly including post-classical cinema as well). Defined as a paratactic series, as a permeable surface at once inside and out, or a fan-like proliferation of segments, the fold becomes a key feature of 'the event' as a mode appropriate for describing the contemporary cinematic experience.

9.5. Method: Foucault and Deleuze 9.5.1. Foucault

As indicated, Foucault has only rarely expressed himself on the cinema, mostly in relation to its uses and misuse as popular memory (Foucault, in Wilson 2000: 159-72, 181-5). But he did contribute at least one term that is frequently cited when deconstructing the cinematic apparatus: this is his reference to Jeremy Bentham's panopticon, an architectural ensemble that permits the surveillance of prisoners through vision and self-observation. This opens up two lines of'application': one would be to treat the panopticon as an institution and a discourse, and the other is to see it as a sort of cinematic apparatus and a dispositif. In the first case, we would be looking further into the idea that institutions are, for Foucault, not so much buildings that house a bureaucracy with a history and a tradition, but something that reproduces itself in certain internalized practices and actively produces discourses. These discourses are the 'positive', generative manifestations of power, and thus 'penetrate' the individual in ways that are not visible. They cannot be simply 'resisted' or 'opposed', which is why classical political debate and struggle has to be replaced by a 'micro-politics'.

Foucault's work can therefore enable us to rethink and reanalyse the cinema using the following concepts:

• Institution as discourse. For something as both material and immaterial as the cinema, the notion of'institution as discourse' is not without interest. It might give one an instrument for understanding the complex interaction in the cinema of economics and emotions, of film production as an industry and spectatorship/reception as a psychic and somatic event. At the same time, films - and especially genre films - often involve institutions-as-discourses in the fabric of the action: 'the police' for instance (in a detective film), or 'the military' (in a war film), or stereotypical figures that embody institutions/discourses, such as the sheriff in a Western, or the mad scientist in a sci-fi film. More recently, questions of race and ethnicity in the cinema have often been treated in a Foucaultian manner, across an analysis of the discursive regime of power/knowledge/pleasure.

• Power and discipline. As a structure that emphasizes 'being looked at' over 'looking', the panoptic gaze can be invoked to rethink the cinema as a dispositif of power and discipline, rather than as one that generates or inscribes sexual difference. For instance, as if responding to feminist film theory's distinction between narrative and spectacle, and their definition of woman in the cinema as a 'spectacle, to be looked at', Foucault once famously remarked: 'our society is not one of the spectacle but of surveillance ... We are neither in an amphitheatre, nor on the stage, but in the panoptic machine, invested by its effects of power, which we bring to ourselves, since we are part of its mechanism' (Foucault 1979: 217).

• Planes of vision, scopic regimes, enfolding gazes. When deconstructing vision and the look in a given film in Foucaultian terms, we would be looking not only for the gendered imbalance and asymmetry, but for the mutual implication of looks and speech, the possibly even more complex geometry of planes of vision, scopic regimes, enfolding gazes, and self-surveillance mechanisms than those proposed by feminist readings. Deleuze once described what he called Foucault's 'folds of vision' as 'an ontological visibility, forever twisting itself into a self-seeing entity, on to a different dimension from that of the gaze and its objects' (Deleuze, cited in Jay 1993: 398). In other words, the panoptic gaze of surveillance is, unlike that of spectacle (with its neat division and tidy hierarchy between seeing and being seen), both interiorized and external, both invested with someone looking and marking an empty space, both a model of malevolent visual discipline and of human conscience as 'self-surveillance' (see also quote from interview in Foucault 1981: 152-5).

• Madness and pathology. A special instance of vision and the gaze might be the question of madness and pathology. In Foucault, the history of madness points to different scopic regimes in history. As Martin Jay sums up this point:'Madness and Civilization showed the extent of Foucault's appreciation of the role of vision, or more precisely, specific visual regimes in constituting cultural categories. ... The modern category of insanity, Foucault contended, was predicated on the dissolution of the medieval and Renaissance unity of word and image, which liberated a multitude of images of madness and deprived them of any eschatological significance. As a result, madness became pure spectacle, a theatre of unreason' (Jay 1993: 390, citing Foucault 1988: 70). Such a conception could be usefully tested in the horror film, and the figure of the monster, or in the thriller genre, where the villain is often pathological - a psychopath, or emotionally unstable - and where suspense and drama revolve around the question: How can one tell what are the symptoms or traces of this pathology, and how different, finally, is such a character from us and our idea of normality?

• Persecution. Foucault's thinking on madness, medicine, and the clinic in Western societies since the Enlightenment profoundly affected his stance on gender matters, and homosexuality in particular as a practice that has been persecuted, prohibited, and minoritized: 'My problem is essentally the definition of the implicit systems in which we find ourselves prisoners; what I would like to grasp is the system of limits and exclusion which we practice without knowing it; I would like to make the cultural unconscious apparent' (Foucault 1989: 71).

• Sensory, tactile, sonorous surface. But perhaps more important for understanding the role of gender in relation to the cinema is that the sensory, tactile, sonorous surface and envelope of the screen/skin/body makes it possible to regard the film experience as something other than the Oedipalized identity machine. It is in this respect that same-sex love and homosexuality, that is, non-reproductive, socially 'useless' sexuality, might be regarded, beyond questions of 'representation' and 'role models', as an alternative metaphor for the cinema experience as an embodied event: 'Another thing to distrust is to relate the question of homosexuality to the problem of "Who am I?" and "What is the secret of my desire?" Perhaps it would be better to ask oneself, "What relations, through homosexuality, can be established, invented, multiplied and modulated?" The problem is not to discover in oneself the truth of sex, but rather to use sexuality henceforth to arrive at a multiplicity of relationships. And no doubt that's the real reason why homosexuality is not a form of desire but something desirable. Therefore we have to work at becoming homosexuals and not be obstinate in recognizing that we are' (Foucault 1989: 203-4).

The direction of this quotation, its emphasis on multiplicity, its reference to 'becoming' and on desire as separate from subjectivity all strike a very Deleuzian note, outlining a programme in some ways quite distinct from the Anglo-American project of gender politics in cultural studies.

9.5.2. Deleuze

More generally, with regard to Deleuze's method, his philosophy as a whole could be said to be designed to forestall what we have set ourselves as our goal: to distil from a body of theory a set of procedures that can be deployed in the day-to-day business of generating film analyses. 'While one can dialogue with

Deleuze, try to philosophize like Deleuze, or do with other philosophers something analogous to what Deleuze does with Bergson, it seems somewhat more problematic to "apply" Deleuze, to simply "translate" analysis into a Deleuzian language' (Stam 2000: 262).

Consequently, there have been precious few Deleuzian analyses of individual films, beyond adumbrating or extending those he himself has given in the cinema books, which often enough are non-systematic, aphoristic reformulations of the reviews and auteurist views of the Cahiers du cinéma critics from the 1950s and 1960s. In particular, apart from a few bold attempts (Buchanan 2000; Pisters 2001), examples of Deleuzian analyses of contemporary Hollywood films (especially when compared to Zizek's many New Lacanian analyses) are as yet hard to find. However, as we hope to show, a Deleuzian reading can produce new insights, without wholly travestying the ideas from which they derive. Of the concepts named above, we shall be selecting only a small number for special consideration, chosen in part in view of our film example, and partly because these seem to us fruitful, even though they may not come from the 'cinema books' (see above). However, we shall begin with one key concept that does come from the cinema books, namely the distinction between the 'movement image' (action, affection, perception image) and the 'time image' (recollection, crystal image), because of the question -often posed - whether post-classical American mainstream cinema can actually be fitted into Deleuze's schema, given that he hardly discusses Hollywood films from the 1970s or beyond, and that many of the most challenging films were made in the 1990s, i.e. after the publication of the cinema books. There is, furthermore, evidence to suggest that Deleuze himself would not have particularly cared for this new brand of cult, blockbuster, or genre films.

The seductive - but also unsettling - experience when encountering Deleuze's cinema books is that one all too easily loses one's bearings. Thrown in at the deep end of his thought, there is no outside leading to an inside, so that reading Deleuze is a wholly immersive experience. As such, it resembles nothing so much as a contemporary Hollywood spectacular, where the images and sounds surround one, where one is taken on as roller coaster ride, where the sheer somatic impact makes the pulse race before the mind has caught up. So violently does Deleuze discard the categories of conventional film analysis and disregard the niceties of reasoned argument that one either learns how to float on his prose or soon drowns in it. In other words, the most empathetic-mimetic relationship his books establish is with certain of the films he discusses, and with many he does not mention at all.

The concept we want to highlight first (although in the subsequent analysis it will appear at a later point) is the very general distinction which Deleuze makes in the history of the cinema, between the movement (or 'action') image and the time (or 'crystal') image. As explained above, it serves both as a chronological divide (roughly, before and after the Second World War) as well as an almost ontological divide (between two kinds of 'being' in the cinema), while, for the impatient reader, it may also signal a continental divide (between Hollywood and European cinema). What concerns us here is to decide which of his two broad types of image might apply to contemporary Hollywood movies, and there, we propose to highlight a line of argument he pursues at the end of his first cinema book, where Deleuze speaks of:

• The crisis of the action image. After identifying what we have been calling the classical Hollywood cinema with the movement (action-affection) image, and relating its dominance to the sensory-motor schema of goal orientation, purposive action, and a causal nexus between seeing, feeling, doing, Deleuze discovers in the late work of Hitchcock, but also in John Cassavetes or Robert Altman, a crisis in the action image: 'If one of Hitchcock's innovations was to implicate the spectator in the film, did not the characters themselves have to be capable of being assimilated to spectators? But then ... the mental image would be less a bringing to completion of the action-image, than a re-examination [of] the whole movement-image ... through the rupture of the sensory-motor links in a particular character' (Deleuze 1986: 205). This, as we shall see, applies rather well to one of the characters of The Silence of the Lambs, though, one would argue that this 'rupture' of which Deleuze speaks finds itself compensated in the contemporary American cinema by a kind of psychotic hyperactivity, in which the movement and action come at the characters, rather than emanating from them. The consequence are either what could be called the 'new thinking image' of characters being inside each others' minds, or the kind of hysterical action scenario where the natural world (Twister), a vehicle (Speed), or a creature-person (Terminator) are 'out of control' and the protagonists can only react, parry, or otherwise shield themselves from being attacked, assailed, or annihilated.

A concept frequently invoked by Deleuze (and Guattari), when trying to think beyond individualism, identity and traditional notions of personhood is the:

• Body without organs (BwO). 'A BwO is made in such a way that it can be occupied, populated only by intensities. Only intensities pass and circulate. Still, the BwO is not a scene, a place, or even a support upon which something comes to pass. It has nothing to do with fantasy, there is nothing to interpret It is not space, nor is it in space; it is matter that occupies space to a given degree - to the degree corresponding to the intensities produced. It is non-stratified, unformed, intense matter, the matrix of intensity' (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 153). When applied to the cinema, BwO can help resituate such perennial issues of film theory as 'identification' (i.e., the affective or cognitive link between the spectator and the protagonists) and the communication or relation (non-dramatized and non-verbalized, but thematized and intuited) that exists between characters in a film. BwO may also allow us to understand how in much contemporary cinema the dividing line between inside and out, but also the boundaries between bodies, have become difficult to draw, and in any case no longer refer to a (psychic) interiority and a (physical) externality, but to two sides of the same surface or extension.

In a universe such as Deleuze's which is in constant flux, and where identities are neither fixed nor intersubjectively determined, a character's mode of being is a permanent

• Becoming... But whereas a certain Heraclitean becoming would imply a constant movement in order to stay the same, for Deleuze the issue is more complex. Instead of being unique and individual, we are all bad or imperfect copies, simulacra or automata, so that our most ethical state of being in the world is neither 'being true to oneself nor 'becoming the same', but a 'becoming-other', in which one's encounter with the world develops along different 'segmental lines' - hard line, molecular line, and line of flight - indicative of the difficulties of having such an encounter at all. In terms of contemporary cinema, one might immediately point to the prevalence of mutants, shape-shifters, cyborgs, or other man-machine combinations as indications of Deleuzian 'becoming-other' in the wake of new special effects technologies such as morphing. But this would be to short-change the concept and instrumentalize it. Nor does it directly correlate with the discussion in cultural studies on 'recognizing otherness' and post-colonial theory's contested territory of 'othering'. As we shall indicate below, when 'applying' the term to The Silence of the Lambs, Deleuze sees the process as at once physical and bodily, rather than metaphoric or semiotic, and it is political, violent, affecting minorities whose state of oppression, suffering, and abjection bars them from most other forms of action and communication.

A final concept from the Deleuze arsenal that might prove fruitful for film analysis addresses neither character interaction nor identity politics, but concerns the film experience considered as 'event'. This concept is that of

• The fold. For Deleuze, the opposite of the sensory-motor scheme of the action image is the 'purely optical and aural situation', in which perception itself is what happens and what constitutes the cinematic event. But as with certain cognitivists cited at the beginning of the chapter, this perception is less a (transitive) seeing of something, a specular structure separating subject from object, or a voyeuristic seeing/being seen. Rather, it is an enveloped perception, at once continuous and plural, active and passive, directional and surrounding. The semiotic interval and the presence/absence of illusionism find themselves replaced by the interstice, the recto and verso, the inverse and the obverse, in short: the fold. Thus, one crucial feature of the modern media event, which the cinema paradigmatically embodies, is that such an event only exists in order to be seen, while the spectators' sense of 'being there' already exhausts the event's meaning. In this sense, Deleuze's fold, as a structure of 'total visibility', joins Foucault's panoptic gaze as an alternative to the theories of the look/gaze as propounded by psychoanalytic film studies.

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