Western Journal of Speech Communication

ISSN: 0193-6700 (Print) (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rwjc19

The dream world of film: A Jungian perspective on

cinematic communication

Robert A. Davies , James M. Farrell & Steven S. Matthews

To cite this article: Robert A. Davies , James M. Farrell & Steven S. Matthews (1982) The dream
world of film: A Jungian perspective on cinematic communication, Western Journal of Speech
Communication, 46:4, 326-343, DOI: 10.1080/10570318209374092

To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/10570318209374092

Published online: 06 Jun 2009.

Submit your article to this journal

Article views: 38

View related articles

Citing articles: 5 View citing articles

Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found at

http://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=rwjc19

Download by: [Central Michigan University] Date: 15 October 2015, At: 01:44
 THE WESTERN JOURNAL OF SPEECH COMMUNICATION
46 (Fall 1982), 326-343

The Dream World of Film: A Jungian

Perspective on Cinematic Communication
ROBERT A. DAVIES
JAMES M. FARRELL
STEVEN S. MATTHEWS*
.L/espite discussions that point to the crisis in the film industry, the in-
creased box office receipts and actual number of ticket sales in the late 1970's
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

and 1980's indicate that cinema remains a major mass communication

medium.1 Semiotician Christian Metz has reminded us that film can bridge
the gap between art and the general public, commanding, he feels, greater
interest than the arts of poetry, literature, sculpture, or theater. "One is almost
never totally bored by a movie," he remarks.2 Nevertheless, as Farrell
Corcoran has pointed out,3 efforts to identify the nature of film expression
have often been side-tracked by uncritical analogies between visual and verbal
languages, and by prescriptions for the filmmaker's use of the medium's
aesthetic elements. Less common are the more descriptive/analytical
approaches that investigate the manner in which a succession of film images
may involve the viewer and impact perceptual, affective, and cognitive
responses.
In a recent analysis of Michael Cimino's The Deer Hunter, Rushing and
Frentz spoke to the question of film communication by proposing a "Psycho-
logical/Ritual Model," based largely on the concepts of Carl Jung.4 Although
their discussion centered primarily on the story and theme and on
psychological changes of the characters, the authors closed by suggesting that
as a primarily visual medium, film may be ideally suited to the communication
of the unconscious archetypes that are basic to Jung's discussions of the
psyche. While we agree that a Jungian model can be a valuable tool for
assessing film expression, we are also mindful of Northrop Frye's caution that
"the axioms and postulates of criticism . . . have to grow out of the art it
deals with."5 Since Frye's point seems well-taken regarding the use of
*
Mr. Davies is Assistant Professor of Speech Communication and Theatre at Trenton State
College, Trenton, NJ 08625. Mr. Farrell and Mr. Matthews are Instructors of Speech
Communication at the University of Maine, Orono 04469. The authors wish to thank Kristin
Langellier and Eric Peterson for assistance and feedback on earlier drafts of this essay.
1
David Thomson, "The Real Crisis in American Films," American Film, June 1981, pp. 41-45.
Although Thomson notes a decline from the 1940's, ticket sales averaged twenty million per
week in the 1970's, and box office receipts increased sharply from the previous decade.
2
Christian Metz, "On the Impression of Reality in the Cinema," in Film Language: A Semiotics
of the Cinema (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1974), pp. 3-15.
3
Farrell Corcoran, "Toward a Semiotic of Screen Media: Problems in the Use of Linguistic
Models," The Western Journal of Speech Communication, 45 (1981), 182-193.
4
Janice Hocker Rushing and Thomas S. Frentz, " 'The Deer Hunter': Rhetoric of the Warrior,"
The Quarterly Journal of Speech, 66 (1980), 392-406.
5
Northrup Frye, Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1957),
p. 6; see also, Thomas B. Farrell, "Critical Models in the Analysis of Discourse," The Western
Journal of Speech Communication, 44 (1980), 300-314.
 Fall 1982 327
philosophical or psychological models, we need to keep in mind, as Metz
and Pier Paolo Pasolini have pointed out, that film becomes a stylistic or
artistic whole before it becomes a language of communication.6 Accordingly,
any external model that may help derive thematic material needs to do so
through treatment of the film whole or the interaction of its component parts
of story, characters, mise-en-scene, editing, cinematography, and sound.
We believe that if Jungian principles are applied as they were in his own
analyses of dreams and myths, problems of misleading reductionism are not
only avoided, but the relationship between film form and manifestations of
the unconscious may point to otherwise unnoticed images and structures
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

within a film. Furthermore, a Jungian analysis can offer insight into the
relationship between the film and the viewer, and can suggest the relevance
of the film, or collection of films, to the society in which it arises. In these
respects we consider applicable to cinema what Clifton Snider has noted
regarding Jungian criticism of literature: "It sets [it] in its proper place in
a human context as a representative of the psyche, without. . . getting away
from [its] intrinsic worth as an art form."7
If the advantages of approaching film in Jungian terms are to be realized,
more needs to be said about his crucial conceptions of the "archetypes" and
the "collective unconscious," and their particular relevance to cinema. This
essay therefore reviews the major components of Jung's essentially dialectical
psychic model, and illustrates its special applicability in film analyses. In addi-
tion, we suggest the contribution that our approach offers to the study of
film's role in society.
THE JUNGIAN MODEL OF THE PSYCHE

Central to our analysis are the Jungian interpretations of the human psyche
and its characteristic representations. We begin therefore by reviewing Jung's
ideas on archetypes and the unconscious and their general relationship to
aesthetics.
According to Jung the human psyche is an evolving totality that achieves
its energy and wholeness from the union, within the ego, of the juxtaposed
opposites of consciousness and unconsciousness.8 The "Self is seen as the
"psychic center," wherein both components may be assimilated into
ego-awareness.
While the conscious dimension is individual and composed of the ideas
and feelings of which one is aware, the unconscious realm consists of two
layers. In addition to repressed, forgotten, or subliminal personal contents,
Jung inferred the presence of a collective unconscious, an impersonal and
universal level that constitutes "the psychic expression of the identity of brain

6
Christian Metz, "The Cinema; Language or Language System?" in Film Language, pp. 31-91;
Pier Paolo Pasolini, "The Cinema of Poetry," Cashiers du Cinema in English, 6 (1966), 35-43.
7
Clifton Snider, "C. G. Jung's Analytical Psychology and Literary Criticism (I)," Psychocultural
Review, 11 (1977), 96-108.
8
Carl G. Jung, "The Self," in Aion, trans. R. F. C. Hull, 2nd ed. (Princeton: Princeton Univ.
Press, 1968), pp. 23-35.
 328 WJSC
structure irrespective of all racial differences."9 Its contents, known as
archetypes, are "present always and everywhere" and are considered to be
innate, inherited images of the instincts themselves," (or) patterns of
instinctual behavior."10 Archetypes are thus the original, collective bases of
the psyche, from which egoconsciousness evolves through the process of
"individuation."11
As unconscious contents, the archetypes themselves are not knowable but
are reflected in recurrent configurations of symbols and motifs in the major
dreams, myths, folktales, and artistic works across diverse epochs, cultures,
and individuals. To Jung, such recurrent symbolic patterns suggested "inborn
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

possibilities of ideas that . . . keep our fantasy activity within certain

categories,"12 and their frequent and apparently spontaneous appearances
were evidence that the psyche is "personal only in part, and the rest is collective
and objective."13 Symbols of the collective unconscious are therefore traceable
in form to the most primitive societies and to the dream images of the child.
While many such representations reflect an archaic, mythological flavor, the
specific archetypal symbols are drawn from the conscious experience of the
person or culture. As Jung noted, "representations can vary a great deal in
detail without losing their basic pattern."14 Consequently, the ancient "sun-
wheels" and Apollo's chariot were thought to have their contemporary
counterparts in visions of round, glowing UFO's.15
Although the archetypes are numerous, Jung found that dream recollec-
tions most frequently contained symbols of the shadow (the darker aspects
of the personality); the animal; the wise old man; the anima (feminine ele-
ments in the male unconscious); the animus (male elements in the female
unconscious); the mother; and the child.16 In addition, his discussions of
the major archetypes suggest their classification into the four categories of
Mother or Origin (Female figures; animals; dark, lower, and/or primeval
places); Spirit (sources or places of renewal, energy, or guidance);

9
Carl G. Jung, "Commentary," in The Secret of the Golden Flower, trans. Richard Wilhelm
(New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1962), p. 87.
10
Carl G. Jung, "The Concept of the Collective Unconscious," in The Archetypes and the
Collective Unconscious, trans. R. F. C. Hull, 2nd ed. (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1968),
pp. 42, 44.
11
M. L. von Franz, "The Process of Individuation," in Man and His Symbols, eds., Carl
G. Jung and M. L. von Franz (New York: Doubleday, 1964) pp. 158-229.
12
Carl G. Jung, "On the Relation of Analytical Psychology to Poetry," in The Spirit in Man,
Art, and Literature, trans. R. F. C. Hull (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1966), p. 81.
13
Carl G. Jung, "On the Nature of Dreams," in Dreams, trans. R. F. C. Hull (Princeton:
Princeton Univ. Press, 1974), p. 77. Jung stressed that many dreams only reflect normal daily
fluctuation of psychic material between consciousness and unconsciousness, and hence are of
a personal nature. It is the "big" dreams, or "significant" dreams, concerning more pervasive
and fundamental unconscious contents, that are said to reflect the archetypes.
l4
Carl G. Jung, "Approaching the Unconscious," in Man and His Symbols, p. 67.
15
Carl G. Jung, Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth of Things Seen in the Skies, trans. R. F. C.
Hull (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1978).
16
Carl G. Jung, "On the Psychology of the Unconscious," in Two Essays on Analytical
Psychology, trans. R. F. C. Hull, 2nd ed. (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1966), p. 110.
 Fall 1982 329
Transcendence (the hero; rebirth; initiation rituals; images of flight); and
Wholeness (the mandala, or circle; stones; golden treasure).17 Jung's studies
of dreams and creative works suggested that when viewed synthetically, or
in relationship to each other and to the lives of those to whom they appear,
such themes (and the exemplary symbols we have indicated) depict
fundamental inner states that are otherwise unexpressable.18

The Function of the Archetypes

The archetypes of wholeness represents the healthy psychic state derived
from the reconciliation of the conscious/unconscious opposites. Although
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

not denying the advantages of intellectual growth, Jung cautioned that "a
safe foundation is found only when the instinctive premises of the unconscious
win the same consideration as the viewpoints of the conscious mind."19 To
this end, the archetypal symbols appear in dreams or art works only when
"they are activated by a deviation from the middle way,"20 that is, by an
imbalance resulting from either a one-sided emphasis on conscious intellect,
and the persona (the outer, adaptive personality), or by regressive "infantile
longings" for the earlier protective or "Mother" state of the psyche. In either
event, increased unconscious libido disrupts the persona (through neuroses,
projections, etc.) and activates archetypal contents as a corrective "mirror"
to a deficient consciousness. One whose precise rational mind has repressed
the instincts may, for example, dream of being pursued by a wild animal,
a common symbol of the unconscious.
Archetypal representations are not only reflective, but instructive as well,
pointing to the nature of the conscious/unconscious psychic opposites and
toward modes for their resolution. Jung found that recollections of such
dreams display a fairly regular structure of Katabasis (or descent), disinte-
gration, delineation of opposites, and resolution.21 After the images repre-
senting descent, or entry into darkness, and within the disintegrated illogical
realm of the dream, images delineating patterns of opposites are detectable.
Common are the juxtapositions of order and chaos; light and dark; upper
and lower; right and left; and male and female.22 Such forms often represent
the union of opposites, which may also be depicted by the quaternity (square
cross), by rotation (circle, sphere), or by the centering process or mandala.
Within this general structure occur the more specific motifs described above.
Common in legends and dreams, for example, is the "Hero" myth, in which
a powerful man rescues a maiden or retrieves a lost treasure only by first

17
Our classification, and the particular symbols indicated, are drawn from the essays in The
Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious; and Man and His Symbols. Unless otherwise indi-
cated, all further references to specific archetypal symbols are taken from these sources.
18
Jung, "On the Psychology of the Unconscious," pp. 80-89.
19
Jung, "Commentary," p. 127.
20
Carl G. Jung, "Psychology and Literature," in Man, Art, and Literature, p. 104.
21
Carl G. Jung, "Picasso," in Man, Art, and Literature, pp. 139-141.
22
Carl G. Jung, "On the Nature of the Psyche," in On the Nature of the Psyche, trans. R. F. C.
Hull (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1960), p. 113.
 330 WJSC
confronting and defeating the monster in the dark forest, cave, or abyss.
The account metaphorically suggests that individuation and the reward of
psychic wholeness are obtainable only through coming to terms with the forces
of the unconscious.
Appearances of archetypal symbols carry a "numinous or fascinating
effect,"23 but their primary value derives from their assimilation, or
"understanding and digesting,"24 by the conscious mind. Essential is a
consciousness that permits recognition of both itself tz/zc/ Its boundaries. Jung
believed that a form of religion must continue to provide for us, as with primi-
tives, "apt expression to the peculiar way in which we experience . . . these
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

autonomous (unconscious) contents,"25 and artistic sensibilities, or a general

open-ended imagination, should similarly facilitate the union of psychic
opposites. Persistence in either a one-sided consciousness, or in further iden-
tification with the unconscious, results in the disruption of the former domain
by mood swings, or neurotic fears, and may lead to attributions of prophe-
tic vision to the self, and subsequent alienation from others. In severe cases,
the unconscious eventually, in Jung's words, "rides roughshod over the
conscious mind,"26 bringing on states of psychosis or schizophrenia.
The Archetype and Aesthetic Communication
Along with dreams and visions, literature and visual arts have similarly
provided extensive records of archetypal symbols.27 Jung's relevance to film
can therefore be illuminated by his general discussion of aesthetic works.
Art objects in painting, poetry, and literature were classified by Jung as
either "psychological" or "visionary,"28 with the former including works whose
inspiration and contents emerge primarily from conscious experience, while
the visionary mode emanates from the collective unconscious. The distinc-
tion was not necessarily intended as evaluative, but rather to designate works
that gain further clarification through psychoanalytical interpretation. In the
psychological mode, the material grows out of relatively familiar events, and
the thematic content, made explicit by the artist, requires comparatively little
elucidation by the psychologist.29 Exemplifying this category were stories con-
cerned largely with crime and society, or with love and the family. In cinema
this designation seems applicable to such films as Kramer vs. Kramer; and
Rocky in America, and Cousin, Cousine; and Bread and Chocolate in Europe.
For visionary works the creative inspiration originates in the unconscious
activation of archetypes. While the elaboration of the finished work is a
conscious effort, the raw material is not the initially familiar, but arises
instead, as Jung put it, from "something strange . . . from the hinterland

23
Jung, "On the Psychology of the Unconscious," p. 70.
24
Carl G. Jung, "The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious," in Two Essays, p. 162.
25
Jung, "The Ego and the Unconscious," p. 239.
26
Jung, "The Ego and the Unconscious," p. 162.
27
Aniela Jaffe, "Symbolism in the Visual Arts," in Man and His Symbols, pp. 230-271.
28
Jung, "Psychology and Literature," pp. 84-105.
29
Jung, "Psychology and Literature," p. 88.
 Fall 1982 331
of man's mind . . . so dark and amorphous that it requires the related
mythological imagery to give it form."30 Such art, normally concerned with
pervasive religious, philosophical, or moral questions, is often metaphorical,
and may initially appear simplistic and/or devoid of psychological content.
Its imagery and structure nevertheless resemble the ancient myths or
archetypal dreams, thus linking it to universal psychic experiences. To Jung,
such works were exemplified by the paintings of Picasso, Joyce's Ulysses,
Goethe's Faust, and Melville's Moby Dick.
Cinema has likewise provided ample instances of archetypal motifs. Partly
through its form (as we shall see) and partly in its role as a uniquely 20th
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

Century art, film has frequently reflected the concerns that have also been
noted in modern painting: the conflict of psychic opposites and the dilemma
of their resolution.31 Such themes are apparent for example in much of the
German expressionism and French surrealism of the 1920's; in many of the
horror classics (e.g., Murnau's Nosferatu; Dreyer's Vampyr); and in the better
entries in that genre's recent resurgence (The Exorcist; The Brood; The
Shining; Herzog's Nosferatu). In addition, depictions of outer space, or other
futuristic or fantastic realms, have revealed variations of the hero myth in
such films as 2007: A Space Odyssey; Star Wars; and Raiders of the Lost Ark.
As Jung stressed, archetypal contents are found not only in fantasy settings
or in direct depictions of psychic contents, but also in contemporary or
realistic contexts, and in stories featuring characters no more capable than
we.32 Recent European works such as Mr. Klein (Joseph Losey); LaLuna
(Bertolucci); and Padre, Padrone (Palo and Vittorio Taviani) are illustrative,
as are the major works of Alfred Hitchcock (e.g., Vertigo; Psycho; Strangers
on a Train; The Birds). The westerns of John Ford have also been analyzed
for their epic, or mythic structure,33 and Stuart Byron has documented the
influence of The Searchers on the form and thematic content in such later
American films as The Deer Hunter; Taxi Driver (Martin Scorcese); Close
Encounters of the Third Kind (Steven Spielberg); and Hardcore (Paul
Schrader).34 In each film, he suggests, someone intensely seeks or attempts
to aid a person who has fallen into alien hands, and who, when found, does
not desire rescue. Important from the Jungian perspective is the tendency
of such quests to thereby turn back on the searcher, permitting se//-discovery
through encounters with images that a restricted consciousness lacks.

30
Jung, "Psychology and Literature," p. 90.
31
Jaffe, pp. 250-267.
32
When speaking of literature, Frye calls these modes "low mimetic" and "ironic" (as opposed
to "romance" or "myth"), and notes that they may "move steadily towards myth, and dim outlines
of . . . rituals and . . . gods begin to reappear." See Anatomy of Criticism, p. 42.
33
Peter Wollen, "The Auteur Theory," in Signs and Meaning in the Cinema, 3rd ed. (Blooming-
ton: Indiana Univ. Press, 1972), pp. 74-115; Michael Budd, "A Home in the Wilderness: Visual
Imagery in John Ford's Westerns," Cinema Journal, 16, No. 1 (1976), 62-75; Brian Hender-
son, "The Searchers: An American Dilemma," Film Quarterly, 34 (1980-81), 9-23.
34
Stuart Byron, " 'The Searchers': Cult Movie of the New Hollywood," New York Magazine,
5 March 1979, pp. 45-58. Byron's list also includes: Dillinger; Mean Streets; Ulzana's Raid;
Big Wednesday; The Wind and the Lion; and Star Wars.
 332 WJSC
To Jung, when the mythic elements of such art works are explicated, they
transcend not only their surface stories and themes, but the artist's individual
insights as well. As a result, visionary art was said to relate to its society
in much the same manner as the dream relates to the individual. Such works,
he felt, derive from a pervasive psychic imbalance in the epoch or culture,
and art thereby gains its social significance by "educating the spirit of the
age, conjuring up the forms in which the age is most lacking."35 Film analyses
employing a Jungian approach may therefore uncover additional material
on the nature and depth of the themes, as well as insight into the film-viewer
relationship. The archetypal motifs may also suggest conclusions about a
film's social or cultural milieu, and may clarify its role in the psychic life
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

of a community.36
To realize the advantages of Jungian analysis we must begin by explicating
a film's inner workings. Jung inferred the symbolic meaning of a dream and
its relevance to an individual only through analysis of its overall structure.
A film similarly can be identified as psychological or visionary only when
first viewed intrinsically, as an aesthetic whole. Furthermore, stylistic elements
inherent in cinema make it especially amenable to the communication of
archetypal material. Accordingly, before discussing film in relation to a
society's psychic balance, we turn first to considerations of cinematic form,
as it relates to the collective unconscious, illustrating our observations through
a sample analysis of an individual film.

THE ARCHETYPES AND FILM FORM

Just as the human psyche—through archetypal symbols—strives for the

union of its conscious/unconscious opposites, film is similarly a balance
between the rational, outer world on the one hand, and the inner, "irrational"
sphere on the other. Having its foundation in highly iconic images derived
from the environment—what Pasolini calls "image-signs," or "im-signs"—a
film faithfully records elements of the physical world, but simultaneously
renders them through a subjective vision.37 An appreciation of the medium's
relationships to both orientations can help clarify film's suitability for
archetypal expression.

The Semiotics of Cinema

Although, as a mechanical recorder of the environment, film creates iconic
signs said to create relatively strong impressions of objective reality, Pasolini
reminds us that image selection is nevertheless a subjective decision. Further-
more, Metz observes that cinematic expression lacks the recursiveness and
formal stability given to verbal languages through the quality of "double
articulation," or the limited number of significant units (monemes), and an

35
Jung, "Relation of Psychology to Poetry," p. 82.
36
Snider, pp. 96-108.
37
Pasolini, pp. 35-43.
 Fall 1982 333
38
even smaller, fixed number of minimal units, or phonemes. The single image
(e.g., a close-up of a revolver), the smallest possible film unit, conveys, at
minimum, an assertive statement—"here is a revolver." Without grounding
in the second articulation (minimal phonemic units), image selection,
characterization, and combination proceed with considerably greater gram-
matical flexibility than that afforded the units of verbal communication.39
To Pasolini, this "pre-grammatical" nature of cinema creates a sytlistic
freedom, permitting its sequences to assume the forms of memories, reflec-
tions, or dreams, where images may combine, fade, or dissolve, contrary
to physical restrictions of time, space, object constancy, and causality. "The
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

linguist instrument on which cinema is founded is thus of an irrational type,"

he contends, "and this explains the profoundly oneiric nature of cinema."40
The bipolar objective/subjective quality of film, grounded in the nature
of its smallest unit, has been enhanced since the medium's inception through
its "Realist" and "Formative" traditions.41 Attention to mise-en-scene detail,
location shooting, deep focus compositions, and long takes are among the
devices said to resemble encounters with everyday reality; while stylized sets,
dissolves, expressive, graphic editing, accelerated editing, zooms, and angle
variations represent cinema's subjective, or formative elements. These latter
techniques reconstruct reality in accord with the imagination, and are thus
grounded more in mental processes than in replications of the external world.
In meshing these basic dimensions film is able to create a stylized reality,
a juxtaposition of the "real" and the "fantastic" that can reflect the conscious-
unconscious interplay described by Jung.

Film as Dreamscape
Cinema structure and imagery reveal their closest relationships to Jungian
ideas when visionary themes emerge from a blending of realist and formative
styles, simulating the archetypal dream patterns documented by Jung (see
footnote #21). In so relating itself to the dream, film replicates what Jung
thought to be the purest and most spontaneous source of expression for the
collective unconscious.42
A memorable example of the medium's oneiric potential is the now-
infamous shower murder in the Hitchcock classic, Psycho. As Donald Spoto
points out, the film itself suggests a potentially healing entry into the

38
Metz, "Cinema Language," pp. 31-91. See, also, Andre Martinet, Elements of General Lin-
guistics, trans. Elisabeth Palmer (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1964).
39
Metz, "Cinema Language," pp. 31-91.
40
Pasolini, p. 36. In various ways film form and the viewing experience have been compared
to a dream state since the 1920's. For a review of these earlier discussions, see Siegfried Kraucauer,
"The Spectator," in Theory of Film: The Redemption of Physical Reality (London: Oxford Univ.
Press, 1960), pp. 157-172.
41
J. Dudley Andrew, The Major Film Theories (London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1976). See,
also, Andre Bazin, "The Evolution of the Language of Cinema," in What is Cinema?, trans.
Hugh Gray (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1971), pp. 23-40.
42
Carl G. Jung, "The Concept of the Collective Unconscious," in The Archetypes and the
Collective Unconscious, p. 48.
 334 WJSC
unconscious, and the subjective camera, and frequent forward tracking shots
place the viewer in the role of central character.43 That "character's" expec-
tations for the plot (based on film cues) are totally disrupted by the murder
of Marion Crane (Janet Leigh), and, in the aftermath, an extreme close-up
of the dark bathtub drain, with water and blood spiraling downward, dis-
solves to an extreme close-up of Marion's eye.44 The resulting momentary
image of the eye in the center of the circle strongly resembles forms recalled
or drawn by Jung's patients during dream analyses.45 To Jung, the eye (the
all-seeing Spirit) inside the circle is a form of mandala symbol, suggesting
psychic wholeness or completeness. In Psycho it becomes one of the more
compelling examples of cinema's ability to reveal archetypal images in the
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

forms that they may assume in dreams. At the film's most disorienting
moment the viewer/character is given the suggestion that through the union
of the psychic opposites, order is derivable from chaos.
Such dreamscape depictions suggest that film can be a powerful vehicle
for communication of archetypal material. In fact, Jung believed that an
archetypal idea appearing in consciousness (possible in verbal political or
academic discourse) may lack its "feeling-toned" quality, or "affective
emphasis." It must, if its impact is to be felt, be "transposed back into its
archetypal context. . . back to its original dramatic state."46 The iconic and
"pre-grammatical" signs of cinema seem well-suited for this function; one
that permits the formative elements in the visionary work to retain their strong
attraction for the viewer. As it turns inward, toward deeper psychic levels,
film paradoxically turns back toward objectivity, by assuming image patterns
that are collective, or "transpersonal." As Jung put it, "Whoever speaks in
primordial images speaks with a thousand voices; he enthralls and over-
powers."47
The ideas developed in the preceding sections synthesize Jung's ideas on
archetypal images with fundamental elements of cinema aesthetics, drawing
largely on Metz and Pasolini. Their kinship is rooted in the affinity of each
for the look and the logic of the dream. In the remainder of this essay we
will further demonstrate the utility of the model by turning first to a sample
analysis of a film whole, Stanley Kubrick's The Shining, and its relationships
to Jungian concepts. The final section relates our perspective to a discussion
of such contemporary American cinema's relevance to its age.

SAMPLE ANALYSIS: THE SHINING (1980)

Several reasons suggest The Shining as an example for analysis in terms
of a Jungian approach. Based on the bestselling novel by Stephen King, the
43
Donald Spoto, The Art of Alfred Hitchcock (New York: Doubleday, 1976), p. 357.
44
Frame blow-ups of the shots described here can be found in Richard J. Anobile, ed., Psycho
(New York: Darien House, 1974), pp. 109-111.
45
Carl G. Jung, "Concerning Mandala Symbolism," in Mandala Symbolism, trans. R. F. C.
Hull (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1969), pp. 71-100.
46
Jung, "The Self," p. 29.
47
Jung, "Relation of Psychology to Poetry," p. 82.
 Fall 1982 335
film is a representative of the presently dominant occult-horror genre, one
we have considered readily-adaptable to archetypal motifs. In addition,
perhaps because it is the work of a well-known director, Stanley Kubrick
(e.g., 2007; A Clockwork Orange), critics have assumed it to have or aspire
to a significance beyond the mere gratuitous manipulation of audience fears.48
For example, Newsweek's Jack Kroll calls it "the first epic horror film," and
adds: "This is that rare horror film in which we sense its intelligence even
as it scares us."49 Furthermore, Kubrick has himself offered a comment that
is especially interesting in view of our model: "There's something inherently
wrong with the human personality . . . There's an evil side to it . . . One
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

of the things that horror stories can do is to show us the archetypes of the
unconscious."50
Despite interest in The Shining, the reviewers are somewhat mixed, and
none appear to give it unqualified praise. Writers seem to have had difficulty
in interrelating the different elements of the characters, the occult occurrences,
and the film's stylistic devices; and in discerning an overall theme. Kroll, for
instance, writes that the "supernatural stuff doesn't entirely mesh with the
logic of the story,"51 and Leibowitz and Jeffress contend that the film has
several "mismatches" between its literal and symbolic levels.52 We believe
our Jungian approach can yield a more lucid discussion of The Shining's mes-
sage and structure by illuminating the visual elements in the mise-en-scene,
cinematography (especially camera movement), and editing, that reinforce
each other, and which relate the narrative to archetypal themes. Kubrick seem-
ingly wants us to feel first the tension, then the clash, between the familiar,
conscious perceptions, and the unfamiliar, unconscious realm. We believe
he succeeds. In meshing elements of both the realist and formative traditions
of cinema, The Shining not only comments on the conflict between the psychic
opposites, it represents the juxtaposition. The film moves our perceptions
from the relatively coherent to the chaotic, depicting the modern spiritual
crises that were central concerns of Jung.
The Story
The story of The Shining is rather simple, and in view of other entries in
the horror genre, rather tame. Former teacher, Jack Torrance, his wife
Wendy, and their young son Danny, arrive at a prestigious summer resort
hotel, the Overlook, where Jack will work as caretaker during the winter
months. Both young Danny, and the hotel chef, Dick Halloran, possess "the
shining," a clairvoyance that permits the reading of others' thoughts, as well

48
Pat Anderson and Jeffrey Wells, "The Shining: Two Views," Films in Review, 31 (1980),
438-39; Richard T. Jameson, "Kubrick's Shining," Film Comment, 6 (1980), 28-32; Jack Kroll,
"Stanley Kubrick's Horror Show," Newsweek, 26 May 1980, pp. 96-99; Flo Leibowitz and Lynn
Jeffress, "The Shining," Film Quarterly, 34 (1981), 45-51; Paul Mayersberg, "The Overlook
Hotel," Sight and Sound, 50 (1980/81), 54-57.
49
Kroll, pp. 96 and 97.
50
Quoted in Kroll, p. 99.
51
Kroll, p. 97.
52
Leibowitz and Jeffress, p. 47.
 336 WJSC
as visions of both past and future events. Even before their arrival, Danny's
shining (of a torrent of blood flowing from the elevator doors; and of two
murdered young girls) warns him that the Torrances will encounter horrors
beneath the hotel's elegant surface. As weeks pass, Jack, frustrated by diffi-
culties with his efforts at a writing project, becomes increasingly neurotic
and openly hostile toward Wendy, blaming her for his real or imagined
difficulties. Driven on by the Overlook's apparitions, he lapses into complete
psychosis, murdering Halloran and stalking Wendy and Danny with an axe,
before collapsing and dying, frozen in the snow-filled Overlook Maze. In
the film's final shot we see him in a photograph taken at the hotel ball on
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

July 4, 1921.

The Overlook as Psyche

The real horror in The Shining's story comes not from occult beings or
from a mysterious, murderous stranger, but from the film's central charac-
ter, Jack Torrance. Thematic significance in these events and characters is
realized if we consider both the Overlook Hotel, and the story, to be
metaphorical. In this respect the hotel is more than just a place, but a state
of mind; the psyche itself, reflective of the conscious/unconscious opposites.
The apparitions and their actions in turn are psychic projections, depicting
inner horrors that are paralleled in the hotel location and decor; the movement
through its corridors, rooms, and grounds; and in the nature and locations
of the "supernatural" figures and events.
Throughout the film, elements from both the realist and formative tradi-
tions of cinema provide marked contrasts between the hotel's surface image,
its persona, and its associations with the spiritual and instinctual connota-
tions of the collective unconscious. Sets that feature remarkable detail in the
furnishings, wall decor, and hotel supplies; wide-angle, deep focus compo-
sitions; and long lateral and reverse, "refraining," tracking shots, all convey
the impression of a luxurious, spacious hotel, quite consistent with our normal
perceptions of the physical world. In this sense, it is not surprising that the
manager, Stuart Ullman, can hardly believe that a triple murder and suicide
"actually happened here," while film stars, Presidents, royalty—"all the best
people"—have been among the guests.
Juxtaposed with such reality indicators, however, are references that suggest
a surrealistic quality and foreshadow the eventual predominance of its
unconscious forces. Situated in a remote, primeval, and sometimes mist-
shrouded mountain setting (chosen for "its seclusion and scenic beauty"),
the hotel rests over an Indian burial ground. Inside, numerous Indian rugs,
designs, and spiritual symbols (e.g., a mandala figure) adorn the walls and
floors of the lounge and lobby. A dominant color scheme of red (for pas-
sions; instincts) and gold (light; spirit; value) conveys, in this context, the
instinctual/spiritual duality of the unconscious. The colors often appear in
combination, most notably on the sofas and walls in the immense Gold Room,
and on the carpet outside the mysterious Room 237. Red by itself stands
out on bathroom and corridor walls; on clothing (Danny and Wendy); on
cans and cartons in the storeroom; on the "bleeding" elevator doors; and
 Fall 1982 337
in conjunction with fire imagery. Several red fire extinguishers are often visi-
ble in the kitchen and boiler room, as are many red fire alarms and bells
on the corridor walls. Such references too numerous and consistent to be
accidental, reinforce the implication that the Overlook's inner recesses reveal
images from the deepest levels of the psyche.
While such archetypal manifestations may be "fascinating" or "enthralling,"
Jung also described the disruption of the persona and intellect as "confusing
and blinding," noting that the archetypal dream is often accompanied by
feelings of flying or drifting through space, along with sensations of dizziness
and disorientation.53 Such sensations are both represented and simulated in
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

The Shining, through devices that suggest entry into the unconscious.
Important here is the maze metaphor, realized through the "famous" Overlook
Hedge Maze, its scale-model in the lobby, and maze-like designs on the carpet
outside Room 237. Additionally, at one point the camera threads its way
through the kitchen and Wendy tells Halloran, "This place is such an
enormous maze, I feel I'll have to leave a trail of bread crumbs every time
I come in." Since the maze or labyrinth commonly represents the unconscious
and its disorienting nature, such imagery is an important link between the
Overlook's prestigious surface, and the darker forces that lie within.
Throughout much of the film, Kubrick employs stylistic elements that rein-
force the unconscious imagery by simulating the drifting dislocated sensa-
tions of the dreamscape. During the opening credits, helicopter shots move
along the mountain road to the Overlook, and the camera's level, angle, and
speed create a series of optical illusions. It is the foreground landscape that
seems to be moving, bending or twisting as it rushes toward us and out of
the frame, while background mountains and ridges seem rather static, or
appear to be moving in the opposite direction. These same drifting, somewhat
vertiginous effects are continued in the early hotel sequences, when slow
dissolves shift our view from one slow tracking shot to another. In some
cases, forward movement blends into reverse tracking, momentarily creating
the illusion of simultaneous movement in opposing directions. Other camera
movements penetrate deeper into the Overlook, foreshadowing or represent-
ing further the film's increasingly surealistic quality. Forward tracks, for
example, slowly approach, then enter, Room 237; later the camera glides
across that room to its bathroom door; while another shot follows Jack and
Wendy through the outer door of their quarters, through an archway into
the bedroom, and on into the bathroom. Such probing movements are sup-
plemented by extended, winding shots that follow Danny on his tricycle,
around the vast lounge and through the hotel corridors, while similar shots
wend their way with the characters through the narrow paths of the hedge
maze. As with the opening helicopter shots, intent viewing of such motion
can bring sensations of dream-like floating, along with feelings of dizziness
and swaying, as the camera careens sharply and rapidly around corners, while
corridor or maze walls seem to rush by in a blur on either side of the frame.

53
Jung, "The Ego and the Unconscious," p. 160.
 338 WJSC
In The Shining, the penetrating and winding shots exemplify cinema's
capacity for moving beyond the recording of surfaces, taking our perspec-
tive consistently toward the images and sensations of the Overlook's darker
underside. As the story unfolds, the surreal progressively supplants the mind.
In the film's final moments, when he pursues Danny into the maze, conven-
tional narrative logic dissipates, as seemingly out-of-control forces bombard
Wendy with a series of sudden, inexplicable images. After racing down a
bright red corridor (not seen previously), she sees the blood gush from the
elevator, and in these chaotic moments she also encounters a man in a dog
suit, and his homosexual partner; cobwebbed skeleton tableaux in the lobby,
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

and Grady, who, with his head split and bleeding, calls out, "Great party,
isn't it?"

The Characters
During the course of The Shining we are taken from a pleasant vacation
retreat to a nightmare dreamscape, all within the confines of the Overlook
Hotel. These outbursts of the "supernatural" seem to parallel Jack's psychic
imbalance, or dissociation, a condition that Jung thought characteristic of
contemporary society. His tragedy is an obsession with what he feels he ought
to be. Focusing on intellectual pursuits (his writing) and on socially-
constructed realities or expectations (his persona, or projected image), his
restricted vision cannot assimilate the totality of the Self. Consequently, the
growing strength and malevolence of the hotel's images, and Jack's destruc-
tion, become psychic inevitabilities.
The man we see initially is sufficiently versed in the amenities to project
the image of a dependable employee and aspiring writer. Soon, however,
we witness his propensity for repression, denial, rationalization, and projec-
tion as buffers against self-awareness, and when he later calls out, "Wendy,
I'm home!", after chopping through their hotel room door, the irony of Jack's
early image is apparent. Like his "manuscript," with numerous pages that
only repeat the proverb, "AH work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," he
seems to be at best, all form and no substance. Well before his murderous
rampage, evidence of his difficulty in managing his inner self is apparent.
We learn that though "on the wagon" for five months, he has repressed a
craving for alcohol ("I'd give my Goddam soul for just a glass of beer"),
blaming the abstinence for bringing him "irreparable harm." Similarly, he
appears almost too certain as he tells Ullman that the winter solitude and
knowledge of previous Overlook violence will pose no problems for him.
In fact, his initial affinity for the hotel marks the beginning of his
identification with the unconscious. He tells Wendy he has "never been this
happy or comfortable anywhere," and that he felt a strong sense of deja vu
upon his arrival.
In these early sequences Jack is vacillating between persistence in a restricted
consciousness ("regression restoration of the persona"), and identification
with the collective psyche. Jung stressed that "regressive restoration" only
further weakens the persona (through additional repressions) leaving it even
 Fall 1982 339
more susceptible to absorption by a subsequently strengthened unconscious.54
The film depicts such processes through Jack's encounters with Lloyd, the
Gold Room bartender, the woman in Room 237; and Delbert Grady, the
former caretaker. Their manifestations are both the result and further cause
of his imbalance, with several contextual cues suggesting their inner origin.
A dreamlike illogic characterizes their appearances, beginning after Jack's
nightmare in which he "kills" Wendy and Danny, and each one is seen either
in front of a mirror or reflected in one, suggesting a reflection of Jack's own
character. Similarly, the encounters parallel the film's inward camera
movement, taking him further into the hotel's interior, from trappings suited
to his persona (the Gold Room) to suggestions of the deepest instincts —
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

the garish red bathroom behind the Gold Room, where he meets Grady.
Jung found that the initial confrontation with the unconscious, and one
pivotal to the acceptance of the Self s totality, involves the "shadow," the
emotionally-charged "darker" elements in the personal unconscious often
manifested in dreams or visions as a same-sex figure.55 At this stage potential
self-awareness through the "realization of the shadow," or acceptance of its
contents, is often impeded by defense mechanisms, particularly projection
of the shadow traits onto others. Though related to personal contents,
projections are activated by the anima (repressed feminine elements), the col-
lective archetype that forms the antithesis of the strong male persona.
Persistent defenses only intensify the anima, perpetuating themselves in a
vicious cycle—feelings of alienation must be, in turn, attributed to an
environment perceived as insensitive and hostile.
For Jack Torrance, the shadow and anima are manifested, respectively,
through Lloyd, and the woman in Room 237. When he talks with Lloyd,
his compulsion to drink, his frustrations over his writing, and the memory
of having injured Danny, all surface and initiate rationalizations and pro-
jections. To Jack, his injury to Danny "could have happened to anyone,"
and resulted from "a momentary loss of muscular coordination." Further-
more, he holds Wendy responsible for any lingering feeling of guilt, by not
letting him forget something that happened "three Goddamn years ago!"
Later, a vicious attack on her reflects both the growing power of his projec-
tions, and the persona obsessions that initiated their unconscious emergence:

Have you ever thought for a single solitary moment about my responsibilities
to my employers? Does it matter to you at a l l . . . that I have signed a letter
of agreement—a contract—in which I accepted that responsibility!? Do you have
the slightest idea what a moral and ethical principle is? Do You!? Has it ever
occurred to you what would happen to my future if I were to fail to live up
to my responsibilities!?

The anima underlying such outbursts, generally manifested as a female figure,

54
Jung, "The Ego and the Unconscious," pp. 163-171.
55
Our discussion of the shadow and the anima is based on Jung, Aion, pp. 8-35; and "The
Ego and the Unconscious," pp. 188-211.
 340 WJSC
appears to Jack as the woman in the bathroom of Room 237. Like the projec-
tions that govern his perceptions, she has initially a seductive attractiveness
that soon turns ugly and repulsive. Predictably, he can only flee from her
decaying, cackling form—a reflection of what he has become—and later deny
(or repress) what he has seen. Unable to reflect in any way upon what is now
driving him on, he is readily susceptible to the influence of Grady, who first
suggests, then mandates, that he "correct" Wendy and Danny.
Grady, and the party guests whom Jack joins when the hotel itself sub-
sumes him, are clearly characterized as collectively unconscious forces that
transcend Jack's particular psyche. After he dies, appropriately, in the hedge
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

maze, the film's closing shots place him in a photograph of the Overlook's
past, a time (1921) that precedes his existence. Similarly Grady seems to mani-
fest the potential evil in the purely unconscious, instinctual levels of the
psyche. When told that he killed his own family, he can only reply, "That's
strange, sir, I don't have any recollection of that at all." His identity as an
ever-present inner force is further confirmed when he denies ever having been
the caretaker: "You've always been the caretaker," he tells Jack, "I should
know sir, I've always been here." But Jack has been a negligent caretaker.
In the film's final scenes, it is Grady who motivates the savage axe-wielding
attacks on Halloran, Wendy and Danny, as Jack becomes totally identified
with the now uncontrollable forces of the collective unconscious.
The source of Jack's destruction is further understood when compared to
those who do not fall under the Overlook's spell. Although on the surface
an occult power, "shining," in the context of this film, becomes insight into
collective irrational forces. Halloran, who possesses and understands the
power, is linked to instinctual unconscious elements through the sensuous
nude paintings in his Florida apartment, and through the red and gold
combinations on his shirt and tie, and on the jet that takes him to Denver.
His characterization seems to be that of the "dark primitive," and consistent
with Jung's psychic model, Danny, as a child, shares the primitive's close,
relatively undifferentiated communion with the unconscious. His propensity
for fantasy thus allows him to receive warnings and reassurances about the
hotel's mysteries through his imaginary playmate, Tony. ("Remember what
Mr. Halloran said," Tony advises at one point, "It's just like pictures in a
book Danny; it isn't real.") Although not gifted with the "shining," Wendy
is also open to the imaginary and the spiritual. She is able to talk to Tony,
and is described as a "confirmed ghost story and horror film addict." Simi-
larly, she compares the hotel to a maze; quickly notices its many Indian
designs; and remarks that the location "must really be high up—the air feels
so different." With such sensitivities she soon becomes, as Grady says, "more
resourceful than we thought," in escaping from Jack's madness.
Their conscious orientations permit Wendy and Danny to see the hotel's
manifestations more clearly than does Jack. It is generally they, and not he,
who see the more threatening images (the elevator's blood; the word "Redrum"
on a bathroom door; the skeletons; etc.), while Jack is the only one to see
the friendly bartender, Lloyd, and the deceptive polite, polished manner of
Grady. Unlike his family, Jack has no basis for lucid inner vision. Excessive
 Fall 1982 341
concern over his image (he speaks derisively of earning a living by "shovelling
out driveways, or working in a carwash"); preoccupations with "responsi-
bility" and contracts; and futile efforts at writing are all revealed as woefully
inadequate substitutes.
In The Shining, as in 2001, Kubrick has cautioned that extensive looking
outward (be it to technology, space, or persona) brings the tumultuous conse-
quences of a neglected inner life. While hardly the first portrayal of such
a theme, The Shining does, we believe, elevate the horror genre to a serious
level, and provides an excellent example of the applicability of Jungian
concepts to cinema. The relationships between archetypal dream and myth
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

manifestations and film form have, in this case, helped to uncover recurrent
and interrelated visual motifs and narrative elements that point to the film's
underlying themes. It is in this respect that Jung's psychic model concerned
with both content and form of unconscious expression—maintains focus
initially on the internal structure of the work.

IMPLICATIONS: FILM AS CULTURAL ARTIFACT

Within our Jungian paradigm, tracing the derivation of the images and
themes in a film or genre to the collective unconsciousness suggests two addi-
tional, related areas of analysis. The archetypes and their manifestations
reveal an interface between the filmmaker's inspiration and audience viewing
experience. For this reason, as Jung believed true of visionary art in general,
such films should elicit strong affective responses (positive or negative),
supporting Metz's contention that viewers seldom react with total boredom.
As links between film and viewer at the deepest psychic levels, the archetypes
suggest the bases for the hold on the public imagination enjoyed by the science
fiction, fantasy myth, and occult/horror genres in the late 1970's and early
1980's.56 The phenomena of such films furthermore permit their submission
to what Farrell calls "symptom criticism"57 —the treatment of films and/or
genres as cultural/rhetorical artifacts, reflecting and/or influencing the
psychological conditions of the age.
Much of American cinema in the past decade is particularly well-suited
to such analysis. Many of the major "blockbuster" films and dominant genres
have yielded a plethora of archetypal images, and their possible relationships
to social and political conditions and national moods have not gone
unnoticed. The Marxist view, from Herbert Marcuse and others, calls them
prototype capitalist-inspired distractions from the very real problems of
56
The resurgence of the horror film's popularity in the late 1970's is discussed in Ron
Rosenbaum, "Gooseflesh," Harper's, Sept. 1979, pp. 86-92; and Stephen King, Danse Macabre
(New York: Everest House, 1981). Similarly, according to Variety, 13 May 1981, Star Wars;
Jaws; The Empire Strikes Back; Close Encounters of the Third Kind (inc. "Special Edition");
and Superman are Nos. 1, 2, 3, 7 and 8 respectively among the all-time film rental leaders.
At the end of August, 1981, Raiders of the Lost Ark had a box office gross of more than $110
million. (Desmond Ryan, "Films: Looking Back and Ahead," The Boston Globe, 7 Sept. 1981,
p. 44.)
57
Farrell, p. 303.
 342 WJSC
Vietnam, Watergate, inflation, slackened U.S. prestige, and a persistent
energy shortage; while others have generally seen them as mindless escapes
from the troubles presented by the everyday world.58 A Jungian perspec-
tive, on the other hand, suggests functions less devious than opiates, and
more significant than temporary escape.
Important here is Jung's belief that the modern world errs, and induces
the psychological consequences of neuroses and compulsions, through the
rational assumption that consciousness is the totality of the psyche. Missing
in such an age are the numinous symbols of gods and demons that aided
the primitive in assimilating the instinctual, unconscious responses. As
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015

historian Ernest Kurtz has observed, such precluding of the Absolute by the
Enlightenment ideal of autonomous rationalism has the logical outgrowth
of relativism, and a subsequent crisis concerning human identity. Rather than
an enduring essential identity, the se//becomes the symbolic interactionist
conception of variable relational roles and processes, wherein, says Kurtz,
"A person is as he or she is treated; to be human is to shape one's being
according to the expectations and responses of others."59 The crises of which
he speaks suggest that with such an excessive emphasis on appropriateness
(or persona), the self-anxieties and projections of a Jack Torrance are not
unique. It is furthermore such an imbalance that the archetypes are said to
address.
In Jung's theory, concern over the disruptive economic and social
difficulties and the emergence of the unconscious imagery of film, are
evidence on a societal level of the self-alienation discovered in individuals
through dream analyses. From this view, the images of the occult/horror
genre are for us, as they were for Jack, the unleashing of archetypal contents
that have been too long repressed. Similarly, Jung found that manifestations
of the Hero and Spirit appear in the imagination when consciousness, strained
to its limit, is in need of assistance in coping with unusual or threatening
circumstances. Accordingly, the heroes and gods, or god-like beings, of the
mythic fantasies (e.g., Star Wars; Close Encounters) may well be efforts to
fill a psychic void created by the rational emphases of modernity.
Symptom criticism based on Jung's psychic model thus suggests that the
motifs and images of visionary art speak only indirectly to particular times
and difficulties, addressing instead the suitability of our coping mechanisms.
Jungian criticism allows us to ask how films talk about us, rather than issues,
and in this way suggests their role in "educating the spirit of the age," or,
as Thomson puts it, in "(leading) escapees back to a heightened sense of
being."60 Here, however, the implications of the relationship between the
form and experience of film and dreams need to be considered. Seldom is
the full significance of a dream immediately apparent, no matter how vivid

58
These viewpoints on the popular 1970's genres are summarized in Les Keyser, Hollywood
in the Seventies (San Diego: A. S. Barnes, 1981), pp. 183-184.
59
Ernest Kurtz, Not-God (City Center, MN: Hazelden Education Services, 1979), p. 167.
60
Thomson, p. 41.
 Fall 1982 343
and engaging, and the same may be true of the images on the screen. The
phrase, "It's only a movie," may, in this respect, be just as common as the
assurance, "It was only a dream." While the potential for expanded awareness
is presented, such benefits seem to require the effort of subsequent reflection
on both our life circumstances and the fantasy images encountered. This,
in turn, means that we must at least suspend the response of Danny's doctor
in The Shining. Examining him after he blacks out during a "shining" epi-
sode, she remarks with complete unconcern, "If it occurs again, which I
doubt, we can always think about having some tests run."
Downloaded by [Central Michigan University] at 01:44 15 October 2015