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senses of cinema
Alexander Kluge
by Michelle Langford
Michelle Langford is a lecturer in Film Studies at the University of New South Wales.
She has published on Iranian and German cinema and is the author of Allegorical
Images: Tableau, Time and Gesture in the Cinema of Werner Schroeter (Intellect,
2006).
filmography
bibliography
web resources
In February 1982 Rainer Werner Fassbinder wrote a short article for Berlinaletip, a
special issue of the weekly Berlin cultural magazine Tip published during the Berlin
Film Festival. It was entitled “Alexander Kluge is Supposed to Have Had a Birthday.”
It reads as follows:
The rumour that Alexander Kluge is supposed to have turned fifty recently is
as persistent as that other absolutely ridiculous assertion that this very same
Kluge got married sometime toward the end of the year! It is reported that he
actually went ahead and had a private matter officially institutionalized by an
official state institution. An absurd notion—several hours’ worth of stirring
movies by the filmmaker Kluge, as well as a whole lot of illuminating and
stimulating prose by the writer Kluge, do document after all that it is one of
his chief aims to call every kind of institution into question, particularly those
of the state—if I interpret half way correctly—and if his work is not indeed
even more radical, that is, designed to prove that basically Alexander Kluge is
interested in the destruction of every type of institution. Furthermore—an
anarchist just doesn’t go and turn fifty, the age at which people celebrate you.
Categories like that are meaningless to him. I mean, it is precisely rumors of
this sort about one of us, serving the purposes of cooptation, that make
various things clear, and at the very least remind us of the necessity of
continuing to struggle for our cause and of the eternal danger of growing
weary in the face of gray, streamlined reality. (1)
I was reminded very clearly of Fassbinder’s words at the 2002 Berlinale when, on the
14th February, Alexander Kluge’s birthday, it seemed, became much more than a
rumour. Exactly 20 years after Fassbinder’s impassioned article Alexander Kluge’s
70th birthday was celebrated with a gala screening of his film Die Patriotin (The
Female Patriot, 1979) at the Berlinale as part of a tribute to his life-long contribution
to German Cinema. I could picture Fassbinder turning in his grave! Had the
anti-authoritarian, anti-institutional Alexander Kluge himself become an institution?
At risk of offending Fassbinder and answering that question in the affirmative, I
should like to sketch a brief portrait of Kluge, a figure who is not only a great
filmmaker, but an intellectual, a storyteller, and one of the great cultural critics of
our time.
On the subject of birthdays, I should begin by stating that Kluge was born in the
town of Halberstadt in the vicinity of Magdeburg in 1932, the son of a doctor. After
completing his high school education in Berlin, he studied Law, History and Music at
universities in Marburg and Frankfurt am Main and received his doctorate in Law in
1956. During his studies in Frankfurt, Kluge became acquainted with Theodore
Adorno at the Institute for Social Research (otherwise known as the Frankfurt
School) where he performed legal services and began to write stories. It is through
his discussions with Adorno in particular that Kluge became interested in film,
despite the fact that Adorno was not himself a lover of film. As Kluge has recalled in
an interview, “[Adorno] sent me to Fritz Lang in order to protect me from something
worse, so that I wouldn’t get the idea to write any books. If I were turned away, then
I would ultimately do something more valuable, which was to continue to be legal
counsel to the Institute”. (2) In 1958 Adorno introduced Kluge to Fritz Lang, who
was filming Der Tiger von Eschnapur and Das Indische Grabmal (1958-1959) in
Berlin. Legend has it that Kluge found the experience rather tiresome and began to
write stories in the studio cafeteria, stories that would eventually become material
for his own films.
In 1960 Kluge co-directed his first short film with Peter Schamoni entitled Brutality
in Stone, a poetic montage film reflecting on the notion that the past lives on in
architectural ruins; that the ruined structures of the Nazi period in particular bear
silent witness to the atrocities committed. This film is important for a number of
reasons: Brutality in Stone marks the beginning of a process in which German
filmmakers of the 1960s and 1970s began to overturn the apparent amnesia German
cinema had demonstrated during the 1950s in regard to the Nazi period. In addition,
the film was premiered at the annual Oberhausen short film festival in February
1961. The festival was significant because it functioned as a forum for young and
experimental filmmakers attempting to develop modes of cinematic practice outside
Just as the Oberhauseners maintained that German cinema could only be renewed
through both theory and practice, so too Kluge’s cinematic practice would be
unthinkable without his very particular and idiosyncratic contribution to film theory.
A discussion of his films, therefore, would be not be possible without recourse to
some of his most important theoretical concepts: montage, Phantasie, history/story
and the development of a counter-public sphere through film. I shall therefore
attempt to chart a way through these concepts as they are actualised through his
filmmaking practice.
Kluge’s theories of the cinema are founded on the conception that mainstream
narrative cinema—not only Hollywood, but also importantly, ‘Papa’s Kino’ (the
post-war German cinema denounced in the Oberhausen manifesto)—works by a
process of closing off the ability for the spectator to engage their imaginative
faculties while watching a film. Kluge does not simply take for granted the notion of
spectator as passive observer. For him, under the right circumstances—that is, those
circumstances created by the right kind of film—the spectator can assume a much
more active role during the screening of a film.
Kluge aspires consciously in his various roles as filmmaker, theorist, and activist to
develop new modes of constructing films that will in turn provide the spectator with
new and more active ways of engaging with such films; ways of activating the
spectator’s own capacity to make connections between vastly disparate images.
Kluge’s theory of montage hinges on his conception of the ‘cut’. As Stuart Liebman
has written, this theory “pivots around the break in the flow of images, the cut
between shots, or the cut to a title.” (4) This emphasis on the cut opens up a space
for the spectator to enact her or his own imagination, or what Kluge calls Phantasie.
(5) Kluge’s films are constructed from an array of diverse fragments such as
photographs, archival film footage, illustrations from fairy tales and children’s books
as well as paintings, drawings, intertitles and fictional episodes. In addition, the
soundtracks of his films generally consist of a range of discordant elements including
voice-over narration (usually performed by himself), various pieces of classical and
operatic music, and other sounds such as air-raid sirens, bombing raids and
aeroplanes that are not always necessarily motivated by or synchronised with the
images they accompany. Rather than putting these fragments together with a final
“ideal meaning” in mind, Kluge places the emphasis on the role of the spectator in
the production of meaning. The looser the logical connection, or wider the gap
between consecutive images, the more space is left for the spectator to activate her or
his own Phantasie. Kluge is therefore, not interested in ‘conquering the spectator’ or
directing them toward a predetermined series of associations, as was the case with
Eisenstein’s dialectical approach, but his theory of montage is interested in involving
the spectator in the production of meaning, effectively making them “co-producers”
of the film. (6) As such he relies on the spectator’s own capacity to make connections
between the diverse fragments. This is what Kluge calls the “film in the mind of the
spectator”, a capacity which he believes has existed for thousands of years, long
before the technological invention of cinema. Kluge writes: “film takes recourse to
the spontaneous workings of the imaginative faculty which has existed for tens of
thousands of years.” (7) This capacity to make connections is an ability to edit
together images and experiences into something meaningful, to see the hidden
correspondences between diverse things, a capacity that is not unlike Walter
Benjamin’s notion of ‘involuntary memory’. (8) Montage, for Kluge, which is
certainly not equivalent to the editing of the filmstrip, occurs between the film and
the spectator, and within the spectator’s own mind.
Kluge’s theory of montage allows the spectator to engage in an act of reading that
requires, as Gilles Deleuze has said of “false continuity”, “a considerable effort of
memory and imagination”. (9) Rather than ‘effort’ as such, Kluge advocates the
adoption of a rather relaxed attitude on the part of the spectator. He has written:
“Relaxation means that I myself become alive for a moment, allowing my senses to
run wild: for once not to be on guard with the police-like intention of letting nothing
escape me.” (10)
In a playful episode of The Female Patriot, Kluge shows his protagonist Gabi
Teichert (Hanelore Hoger) confronting a voyeur, ‘Der Spanner‘. Rather than simply
condemning this man for his perverse activities, she listens to him. He complains
that he is unable to relax, since during the day he is paid by the government to spy on
people suspected of unconstitutional behaviour, and by night he spies on
unsuspecting young women for voyeuristic pleasure. But the possibility of gaining
pleasure from such an activity is inhibited by his inability to relax, as he watches
women with the same ‘police-like’ concentration that he must adopt in his day job.
The voyeur, therefore, becomes a figural representation of a cinema spectator who
cannot simply relax and allow the images and sounds to wash over them. Gabi
suggests to the voyeur that in order to relax he should do a number of eye-blinking
exercises. These exercises in effect mimic Kluge’s process of montage, creating gaps
or black/blank spaces between images, disrupting continuity and therefore opening a
space in which the spectator can engage her or his imagination. Kluge encourages
the spectator not to worry about piecing everything together. As he says, “If I have
understood everything then something has been emptied out.” (11) Indeed, the
fragmented and non-linear and sometimes cluttered structure of his films invite the
spectator to view them over and over, since a full appreciation cannot be gained
through a single viewing.
Kluge writes:
…since every cut provokes phantasy, a storm of phantasy, you can even make
a break in the film. It is exactly at such a point that information is conveyed.
This is what Benjamin meant by the notion of shock. It would be wrong to say
that a film should aim to shock the viewers—this would restrict their
independence and powers of perception. The point here is the surprise which
occurs when you suddenly—as if by subdominant thought processes
—understand something in depth and then, out of this deepened perspective
redirect your phantasy to the real course of events. (12)
In other words, Phantasie is that which lies beneath the guarded exterior of the
stimulus shield, and it is Phantasie that is set free when shock is able to break
through the barrier.
Kluge has often invoked the figure of the child as the ideal spectator of his films.
Kluge contrasts his cinema with that of conventional narrative cinema with an
evocation of two different kinds of landscape. He writes:
At the present time there are enough cultivated entertainment and issue-
oriented films, as if cinema were a stroll on walkways in a park…One need not
duplicate the cultivated. In fact children prefer the bushes: they play in the
sand or in scrap heaps. (13)
That he invokes the figure of the child in this image is important both politically and
conceptually. On one level, it is the child who, for Kluge and the other ‘Young’
German filmmakers of the 1960s, represented the hope for cinema, the antidote to
the mass-produced products of ‘Papa’s Kino,’ those films that simply stuck to the
well-worn garden paths. On a conceptual level, it is the child who is least ‘cultivated’,
least affected by the teachings of ‘cultured’ society. The child is the one who is open
to new experiences, who has not yet learnt to raise her or his defences against the
shocks that modern life deals us. It is the child who is able to raise a ‘storm of
Phantasie‘, It is children who play in the sand and on the scrap heaps; the material
result of the effects of time and weather upon what was once solid stone, and
children are today’s allegorists, the ones who are able to pick up a discarded
thing—the unwanted junk of society, the refuse of mass production (the modern
form of the ruin in a ‘disposable’ society)—a bottle top or a paper bag for instance,
and imagine in each scrap an entire universe to be explored. This childlike capacity,
according to Kluge, is what one must bring to the filmmaking process, from the point
of view of the filmmaker and the spectator alike.
Although children rarely appear in Kluge’s films, it is perhaps for this reason that
many of his protagonists often exhibit rather child-like traits. Many of his female
protagonists in particular, such as Anita G (Alexandra Kluge) in Yesterday Girl
(1966), Leni Peickert (Hannelore Hoger) in Artists under the Big Top: Disorientated
(1967), Roswitha Bronski (Alexandra Kluge) in Part-Time Work of a Domestic Slave
(1973) and Gabi Teichert in The Female Patriot, enter situations with a childlike but
never infantile sense of curiosity and inquisitiveness, mimetically exploring and
engaging with the world around them.
History/Story
A certain level of playfulness can also be discerned in Kluge’s approach to history in
both his fictional and documentary films. Kluge has written of his own debt to the
history of cinema, particularly the silent cinema of the 1920s, and has articulated his
approach to history with this history in mind. He writes:
I wouldn’t be making films if it weren’t for the cinema of the 1920s, the silent
era. Since I have been making films it has been in reference to this classical
tradition. Telling stories, this is precisely my conception of narrative cinema;
and what else is the history of a country but the vastest narrative surface of
all? Not one story but many stories. (14)
Kluge resists the dominant practice of constructing grand historical narratives, but
rather conceives of history as a vast collection of stories. His model for such a
conception of history is drawn from the Brothers Grimm, who, as a voice-over in The
Female Patriot states, “went digging into German history and found fairytales”. In
the context of a film about a history teacher dissatisfied with the poor materials she
has to teach history with, this is a double-edged statement. Not only is he suggesting
that History (with a capital ‘H’) represents the past as a series of stories that tell only
a limited and often fictionalised version of events, but that, in a more productive
way, fictional stories such as fairytales bring with them living traces of the past into
the present, just as ruins served such a purpose in Brutality in Stone and just as his
films ultimately attempt to do by drawing upon the cinema’s own past.
This subjective approach can also be seen in the impulse behind the collaborative
film Germany in Autumn (1977–78), a film made in response to the events of the
Autumn of 1977 when a leading German industrialist Hans-Martin Schleyer was
kidnapped and killed by RAF terrorists attempting to secure the release of three
prominent leaders of the RAF’s Baader-Meinhof group, Andreas Baader, Gudrun
Enslin, and Jean-Carl Raspe, who subsequently committed suicide (or, some believe
were murdered) in prison. The film consists of a series of documentary and fictional
sequences marked at either end by footage of two funerals. At the beginning we see
the state funeral of Schleyer and at the end the joint funerals of Baader, Enslin and
Raspe. In a large part the film was made in response not so much to the events
themselves, but to the selective filtering of information of the events by the media,
fuelling and supporting the restraints placed on civil liberties and freedom of
information by the government. As several of the film’s collaborators have said: “It is
something seemingly simple which roused us: the lack of memory…For two hours of
film we are trying to hold onto memory in the form of a subjective momentary
impression.” (15) The film is not, therefore a documentary detailing the events that
took place, but rather the collection of divergent impressions about a particularly
volatile and emotive moment in Germany’s political and social history. It was for this
film that Kluge created the character of the history teacher Gabi Teichert who
became the protagonist of The Female Patriot.
As a medium that organizes human needs and qualities in a social form, the
existing public sphere maintains a claim to be representative while excluding
large areas of people’s experience. Among the media that increasingly
constitute the public sphere, the cinema lags behind on account of its primarily
artisanal mode of production (in Germany, at least), preserving a certain
degree of independence thanks to state and television funding. This ironic
constellation provides the cinema with a potential for creating an alternative,
oppositional public sphere within the larger one, addressing itself primarily to
the kinds of experience repressed by the latter. Thus the cinema’s intervention
aims not only at the systematic non- or misrepresentation of specific
issues—eg. family, factory, security, war and Nazism—but also the structure
of the public sphere itself. (17)
Conclusion
Since 1988, Kluge has primarily worked in television, and has not made a film since
1986. His work in television consists of cultural, magazine and interview programs
for various German television stations, including 10 vor 11 and
Primetime/Spätausgabe for RTL, News & Stories for SAT.1, and
Mitternachtsmagazin for VOX. These programs are produced in a small studio in
Munich by his own production company, and began with the aim of securing ten
percent of airtime for independent productions. Not unlike his films, these programs
employ a diverse variety of image and sound fragments intended to give the
television viewer a multi-sensory and multi-dimensional experience. At a discussion
following the screening of a new documentary on Kluge’s work in television, Kluge
stressed the fact that the opportunity for working collaboratively is one thing that
attracts him to the medium of television. In fact, when asked why he has not made
any films since 1986, he simply replied, “if anyone out there wishes to make a film
with me, collaboratively, then I would make films again, but I no longer have the
desire to be an auteur, I want to work collaboratively.” Perhaps Kluge did take heed
of Fassbinder’s words after all, and to this day still resists the temptation to submit
to the rules of the institution, continuing to mount what he once called a “revolution
from below”. (19)
Filmography
The filmography contains the following information about the films where known:
Screenplay (S), Cinematography (C), Editor (E), Producer (P), Principle actors or
subjects if a documentary (A), film format and running time. I have included the
English title only where the film has been released under an English title.
Rennen (1961) Co-directed with Paul Kruntorad. P. Rolf A. Klug, Alexander Kluge.
E. Bessi Lemmer. 35 mm. B & W. 9 min.
Frau Blackburn, geb. 5. Jan. 1872, wird gefilmt (1967) S. Alexander Kluge.
P. Kairos-Film. C. Thomas Mauch. E. Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus. A. Martha
Blackburn, Herr Guhl. 35 mm. B & W. 14 min.
Die Artisten in der Zirkuskuppel: Ratlos (Artists Under the Big Top:
Disorientated, 1967). S. Alexander Kluge. P. Kairos-Film. C. Günter Hörmann,
Thomas Mauch. E. Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus. A. Hannelore Hoger, Alfred Edel,
Siegfried Gaue, Bernd Hoeltz, Kurt Jürgens. Voice-over Alexandra Kluge, Hannelore
Hoger, Herr Hollenbeck. 35 mm. B & W and Colour. 103 min.
Der grosse Verhau (The Big Mess, 1969–70) S. Alexander Kluge. P. Kairos Film.
C. Thomas Mauch, Alfred Tichawsky; Extra Footage: Günter Hörmann, Hannelore
Hoger, Joachim Heimbucher. E. Maximiliane Mainka, Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus. A.
Vinzenz und Maria Sterr, Hannelore Hoger, Hark Bohm. 35 mm. B & W and Colour.
86 min.
Willi Tobler und der Untergang der 6. Flotte (Willi Tobler and the Sinking of
the Sixth Fleet, 1971). P. Kairos-Film. C. Dietrich Lohmann, Alfred Tichawsky,
Thomas Mauch. E. Maximiliane Mainka, Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus. A. Alfred Edel,
Helga Skalla, Hark Bohm, Kurt Jürgens, Hannelore Hoger. 35 mm. B & W and
colour. 96 min.
In Gefahr und größter Not bringt der Mittelweg den Tod (In Danger and
Deep Distress, the Middle Way Spells Certain Death, 1974) Co-directed with Edgar
Reitz. S. Alexander Kluge, Edgar Reitz. P. RK-Film (Reitz-Film, Kairos-Film). C.
Edgar Reitz, Alfred Hürmer, Günter Hörmann. E. Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus. A.
Dagmar Bödderich, Jutta Winkelmann, Norbert Kentrup, Alfred Edel, Kurt Jürgens.
35 mm, B & W. 90 min.
Hannelore Hoger, Alfred Edel, Dieter Mainka, Kurt Jürgens, Alexander von
Eschwege, Beate Holle, Willi Münch. 35 mm, Colour and B & W. 121 min.
Der Kandidat (The Candidate, 1980) Co-directed and S. Stefan Aust, Alexander
von Eschwege, Alexander Kluge, Volker Schlöndorff. P. Pro-jekt Filmproduktion im
Filmverlag der Autoren, Bioskop-Film, Kairos-Film. C. Igor Luther, Werner Lüring,
Thomas Mauch, Jörg Schmidt-Reitwein, Bodo Kessler. E. Inge Behrens, Beate
Mainka-Jellinghaus, Jane Sperr, Mulle Goetz Dickopp. 35 mm. Colour and B & W.
129 min.
Krieg und Frieden (War and Peace, 1982–83) Co-directed with Stefan Aust, Axel
Engstfeld, Volker Schlöndorff. S. Heinrich Böll and the directors. P. Pro-jekt
Filmproduktion im Filmverlag der Autoren, Bioskop-Film, Kairos-Film. C. Igor
Luther, Werner Lüring, Thomas Mauch, Bernd Mosblech, Franz Rath. E. Dagmar
Hirtz, Beate Meinka-Jellinghaus, Carola Mai, Barbara von Weitershausen. 35 mm.
Colour. 120 min.
Die Macht der Gefühle (The Power of Feelings, 1983) P. Kairos-Film. C. Werner
Lüring, Thomas Mauch. E. Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus, Carola Mai. A. Hannelore
Hoger, Alexandra Kluge, Edgar Boehlke, Suzanne von Borsody, Barbara Auer. 35
mm. B & W and colour. 115 min.
Der Angriff der Gegenwart auf die übrige Zeit (The Blind Director, 1985) S.
Alexander Kluge. P. Kairos-Film in co-operation with ZDF. C. Thomas Mauch,
Werner Lüring, Hermann Fahr, Judith Kaufmann. E. Jane Seitz. A. Jutta Hoffmann,
Armin Mueller-Stahl, Michael Rehberg, Rosel Zech. 35 mm. Colour. 113 min.
Bibliography
Jan Bruck, “Brecht’s and Kluge’s Aesthetics of Realism”, Poetics, n. 17, 1988
Roger F. Cook, “Film Images and Reality: Alexander Kluge’s Aesthetics of Cinema”,
Colloquia Germanica, vol. 18, n. 4, 1985
Thomas Elsaesser, New German Cinema: A History, New Brunswick, New Jersey,
Rutgers University Press, 1989
Miriam Hansen, “Alexander Kluge, Cinema and the Public Sphere: The Construction
Site of Counter-History”, Discourse, n. 4, Winter 1981–82
Anton Kaes, From Hitler to Heimat: The Return of History as Film, Cambridge,
Rainer Lewandowski, Die Filme von Alexander Kluge, Hildesheim & New York,
Olms Presse, 1980
Stuart Liebman, “Why Kluge?”, “On New German Cinema, Art, Enlightenment, and
the Public Sphere: An Interview with Alexander Kluge”, October, n. 46, 1988
Eric Rentschler, “Kluge, Film History, and Eigensinn: A Taking of Stock from the
Distance”, New German Critique, n. 31, Winter 1984
Eric Rentschler, (ed.), West German Filmmakers on Film: Visions and Voices, New
York & London: Holmes & Meier, 1988
B. Ruby Rich, “She Says, He Says: The Power of the Narrator in Modernist Film
Politics”, Discourse, n. 4 Winter, 1981–82
David Roberts, “Alexander Kluge and History”, On the Beach, n. 7–8, Summer–
Autumn, 1985
John Sandford, The New German Cinema, London, Oswald Wolff, 1980
Christian Schulte & Winfried Sibers (eds.), Kluges Fernsehen: Alexander Kluges
Kulturmagazine, Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp, 2002
Neue Geschichten. Hefte 1–18 “Unheimlichkeit der Zeit”, Frankfurt am Main 1977
(with Oskar Negt) Geschichte und Eigensinn volumes 1–3, Frankfurt am Main:
Suhrkamp Verlag, 1981
“On Film and the Public Sphere”, New German Critique, n. 24–25, Fall/Winter,
1981–82
“The sharpest ideology: that reality appeals to its realistic character”, On the Beach,
n. 3–4, Summer, 1984
Edgar Reitz, Alexander Kluge & Wilfried Reinke, “Word and Film”, October, n. 46,
1988
Oskar Negt & Alexander Kluge, Public Sphere and Experience: Toward an Analysis
Learning Processes with a Deadly Outcome, Durham & London, Duke University
Press, 1996
Facts & Fakes, Heft 1: Verbrechen. Christian Schulte and Reinald Gußmann (eds.),
Berlin, Verlag-Vorwerk 8, 2000
Facts & Fakes, Heft 2/3: Herzblut trifft Kunstblut Christian Schulte and Reinald
Gußmann (eds.), Berlin, Verlag-Vorwerk 8, 2001
Facts & Fakes, Heft 4: Der Eiffelturm, King Kong und die weiße Frau Christian
Schulte and Reinald Gußmann (eds.), Berlin, Verlag-Vorwerk 8, 2002
Web Resources
Alexander Kluge
Expositions of several films from the Goethe Institut.
Alexander Kluge
Official website (in German)
Alexander Kluge
Biography from Spanish film journal Otrocampo.
Click here to search for Alexander Kluge DVDs, videos and books at
Endnotes
Rainer Werner Fassbinder, “Alexander Kluge is Supposed to Have Had a Birthday”
in Michael Töteberg & Leo A. Lensing (eds.), The Anarchy of the Imagination,
Baltimore & London, The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992
Alexander Kluge in Stuart Liebman, “On New German Cinema, Art, Enlightenment,
and the Public Sphere: An Interview with Alexander Kluge”, October, n. 46, 1988, p.
36
The manifesto is reprinted in English translation in Eric Rentschler (ed.), West
German Filmmakers on Film: Voices and Visions, New York & London, Holmes &
Meier, 1988
Stuart Liebman, “Why Kluge?”, October, n. 46, 1988, p. 14
I will discuss the notion of Phantasie in more detail below.
See Kluge, “On Film and the Public Sphere”, New German Critique, 25/26,
Fall/Winter 1981–1982, in particular the section entitled “The Spectator as
Entrepreneur”, pp. 210–211
Ibid., “Utopian Cinema”, p. 209
Walter Benjamin, “On Some Motifs in Baudelaire” and “The Image of Proust” in
Illuminations, London, Fontana Press, 1992. In contrast to ‘voluntary memory’,