Christian Metz's primary inquiry revolves around whether film can be characterized as a

language. A related question he explores is how narrative film can be considered a language if it
indeed is. Additionally, he delves into the historical perspectives of earlier film theorists
regarding the functioning of narrative film as a language.

He emphasizes the connection to Soviet montage theory, which asserts that film can be
comprehended as something generated by juxtaposing various elements from different shots.
This approach resembles the structure of a language, where individual letters combine to create
words, or individual words sequence to form sentences. Furthermore, he suggests that
Eisenstein believed that specific choices of shots in sequence would result in meanings that
were unmistakable and universally understood by viewers, akin to how we understand written
words with complete clarity.
The belief that the deliberate selection of shots will generate clear and unequivocal meanings
aligns with the ambition of Soviet montage theorists, who aimed for film to convey meaning in a
manner akin to language. However, Christian Metz does not necessarily share this perspective.
He differs in his view by emphasizing a more rigorous examination of the film language analogy,
especially in light of the influence of structural linguistics on his thinking.

Metz's assertion that film is a language but not a language system implies that film doesn't
function as a language system in the same way that English, French, or Japanese do. This
distinction arises from the fact that film's basic building blocks, which are images or shots, are
not discreet units comparable to individual words in spoken language.
In essence, he is emphasizing that, for instance, a close-up shot of a revolver is not equivalent
to the word "revolver," just as a close-up of a neutral face in the Kuleshov Effect is not
equivalent to something we would call a "face." Each shot in a film doesn't function as a word
with a single, precise meaning but rather serves as a declaration or statement, like saying,
"Here is a gun that I'm showing you." Moreover, Metz underscores that these images or shots
cannot be reduced to a single word; they encompass a complex array of meanings and
associations.
A shot featuring a gun isn't merely a representation of a generic firearm; it portrays a specific
type of gun, captured from a distinct angle, with specific lighting conditions, set against a
particular background, and often found within a drawer. Similarly, when examining a close-up of
a supposedly neutral face, which aims to illustrate that the face derives its meaning from its
juxtaposition with other elements, one starts to question the face's neutrality. Instead, inherent
significance becomes evident: a faint smirk on the left side, a distinct play of shadows with the
left side appearing brighter and the right side in shadow, and the portrayal of a particular
individual with their unique characteristics.
This is the essence of asserting that images lack discreteness; they are replete with intricate
details, and this detail always carries the potential to signify beyond the basic, general concepts
like "gun" or "face." This is one of the ways in which film diverges from a language system
because its individual components, unlike words in language, aren't distinct units that can be
combined to form sentences.
Moreover, film doesn't function as a language system due to its innate intelligibility, which is too
instinctive. Metz argues that the manner in which humans acquire the understanding of how
narrative operates in cinema differs fundamentally from how they grasp the workings of
language.