The Question Concerning Watchability

I have often heard a film called unwatchable. Sometimes I'd already seen the film myself. I recall watching it without hindrance. I watched the unwatchable. Of course, we know what is meant by 'unwatchable.' Or at least we think we do. There is no careful definition of the term, but it tends to mean a film is so valueless that it defeats one's attempts to watch it for edification or pleasure. I'm not trying to play ignorant. I do think it's interesting to look into this point, however: How can a film be unwatchable when I just watched it?

The answer can't be that I simply have better eyes than Mr. X nor that he was wearing sunglasses. His claim is universal in character. The film is beyond watching: it is unwatchable. He obviously does not mean it cannot be looked at, but that it cannot be watched. "To watch" is redefined in Mr. X's vocabulary. By watching he means a form of appreciation. He is asserting that it is not possible to appreciate the film as it has nothing appreciable within it. He has certain viewing standards and this film has not met a single one of them in an anywhere near adequate capacity. What Mr. X does not permit is that there are alternative forms of appreciation than the rigid standards and expectations he brings to the film. The film is not watchable due to his watching. That is, the way in which he chooses to watch the film, what he looks for and expects, what informs his total viewing experience. We can call this his viewing mode. There are, however, alternative viewing modes with which the film might be quite watchable. That's an assumption of mine at this point. But at the very least, there's no reason to think there aren't alternative viewing modes.

Let's look at a familiar instance of multiple viewing modes. Someone watches Plan 9 from Outer Space. He says it's a terrible film, yes, "But," he adds "it's so bad, it's good." This expression is used often. Of course, that's a contradiction. If it's bad, it can't be good at the same time. So the most obvious interpretation is that once a film becomes so bad it gets pushed 'out the other side' into being good. By this logic incompetent directors and miserable budgets should produce masterpieces. J. Hoberman claims that "Supremely bad movies project a stupidity that's as fully awesome as genius." This does seem like yet another contradiction. If it's stupid, it's not genius. He has reduced one set of contradictory concepts to a different set of contradictory concepts.

What I suggest is that a film with such poor craftsmanship from a storytelling and technical point of view leads the viewer to give up attempting to appreciate the film in the classical viewing mode. One is left with two options: either consider the film unwatchable and abandon it, or find an alternative viewing mode with which to appreciate it. In the case of such movies as Plan 9, that viewing mode is usually an appreciation of the strangeness that is a result of the poor craftsmanship and an amusement at the constant unpredictability this strangeness holds. It is not the failure to meet classical viewing mode standards itself that is being appreciated, nor is it the film's failure that somehow creates the film's success for another mode of viewing. Both modes were always possible. Plan 9 is a failure as a well-made film, but a success as a strange, unpredictable, and amusing film. It just took a sufficiently overwhelming failure at the classical viewing level to force one to shift to an alternative viewing mode.

The series Mystery Science Theater 3000 thrives on viewing films from this alternative mode of bemusement. Every time I've watched Mystery Science Theater, however, I found myself thinking, "This very same approach could be applied to Citizen Kane with the same results." It could. This would be perceived as a mistake, a failure to comprehend Citizen Kane on the level it ought to be, that is, a failure to view the film in the mode it is best viewed with. However, there is no reason it couldn't be done. There is plenty of material there to fuel snide comments. I bring this up in order to show that there's no need to wait for poor craftsmanship to appreciate films in alternative ways: alternative viewing modes are always already available.

"Any film, however ordinary, is infinitely complex," writes Raoul Ruiz. In every shot there's a multitude of material to look at as well as listen to. We can think about any one of those portions of the image, let our minds wander, dream about them. Our eyes can scan the image in countless ways and each of those ways offers a new viewing mode with which to travel through the film. The next shot offers another world of possibilities. The totality of a film offers such a plethora of possibilities for appreciation. Yet nearly everyone, nearly all of the time, looks for what contributes to the narrative or the themes. In the process they exclude every other possibility as mere distraction and false to the film.

It is just this point that needs explaining now. Implicit in the classical viewing mode is a limitation of appreciation to narrative, craft, and themes alone. What I call the classical viewing mode seems to be three interrelated viewing modes. It gives us a set of standards, which yield expectations about what we will see when we go into a movie. It is the default position, the way our eyes and minds have been trained to observe films since childhood. The first is narrative. We're all trained to look for a story. We have standards for what constitutes a good story. Characters have to be performing interesting actions that move them toward a predestined goal. The second is character. This is a slightly more sophisticated part of the classical viewing mode. This is appreciating character separate from narrative. It is possible to simply enjoy complex characters even in a story with scant narrative, as one must in many arthouse films. The standards of character demand depth and development in the psychology of the characters. The third and most sophisticated part is artistry. It is possible to enjoy a good story with good characters while not demanding that any particular insight be imparted. However, the classical viewing mode does have standards for artistic intention and the subtlety with which the artist's themes are to be imparted. These three modes are hierarchized in the one mode of classical viewing. If a film succeeds on the first level but not on the others, it's decent. If it succeeds on the first and second levels but not on the third, it's good. If it succeeds on all three, it's a very good film and a contender for greatness.

There is nothing wrong with the classical viewing mode itself. It does indeed reveal truths about the films. The problem is that it is not the only viewing mode that reveals truths. As cinematic history progressed, the classical viewing method came to be not just dominant, but dominant to the exclusion of all others. It is a viewing mode that excludes as it monopolizes the validity of aesthetic experience. Why might it exclude in this way? Perhaps it is a commercial explanation. The creation of genres, narrative expectations, and quality expectations--in short, the creation of the classical viewing mode's expectations--facilitates the domination of the film market. For complementing the standards of the viewing mode are standards of production: 35mm film stock, 35mm cameras, studio lighting, quality set design, quality actors, and so forth. Films that do not meet these production standards have little to no chance of meeting classical viewing standards. Yet almost exclusively studio-backed films can meet these production standards. This is the explanation offered by Ruiz. Cocteau, on the other hand, blames intellectual arrogance.

I think both Ruiz and Cocteau are mistaken. They are treating side-effects as causes. Although Cocteau is closer. If we look at the shape and texture of the classical viewing mode, I think we will see that it is just the very nature of the classical viewing mode to exclude. I said above that Mr. X, the faithful exponent of the classical viewing mode, is using a redefined version of the verb 'to watch.' It is redfined so that only the classical viewing mode counts as watching. The classical viewing mode is structured such that we naturally assume it is the only way of watching a film. That is, it perceived as the only way of revealing the truth of a film. This way is to proceed by standards. And standards on which we can agree are the only means of objectivity. Whatever is not objective is subjective and whatever is subjective reveals the truth not about the film but about the person viewing the film. It is just this intellectual apparatus that ensures the classical viewing mode its dominance, not the commercial, political, or social apparati.

When I speak of alternative viewing modes perhaps what the reader imagines is an alternative set of standards against which to judge the film. But this would still be the classical viewing mode. The classical viewing mode proceeds by standards. The standards are thought to be objective. There is much room for debate within the mode as to precisely what those standards are, of course. But giving greater importance in one's standards to cinematography than to editing is not a new viewing mode at all. This is precisely how the dominance of the classical viewing mode has been secured: we can scarcely conceive of a mode of viewing a film that does not proceed by standards.

The classical viewing mode just is this scientific approach to the cinematic art. It is an approach of quantification, of measurement, of relying upon objective standards. The cinematography is an 8, the acting is a 7, the story drags in the middle and so is a 5. Films are rated and ranked according to their ratings. Whatever is not quantifiable or cannot be demonstrated in a brief review is discarded from the record of the cinematic experience.

Alternative viewing modes appreciate without quantification. They do not rely upon standards. Here's an example. The film Out of Africa is a good film by classical viewing standards. It has an enjoyable, moving story with fascinating characters. The craftsmanship is excellent. It even has themes. However, that's not the only level on which I appreciate the film. Whenever I watch Out of Africa, I'm enrapt by the photography of Africa. Not just the photography, in fact, but the sounds, the atmosphere captured in the pro-filmic events, the actors, the sound. It overwhelms me, touches me, and calls out to me. I long to go to Africa myself and simply be there. Maybe I would stay there for ever. It's as though I belong there. It's a perfect place, despite its imperfections and dangers. It's where humanity began. It's the mother of all humans. I feel an incredible kinship to all of humanity suddenly: we are all "out of Africa." This is a true chain of feelings I experience when I watch the film. The progression looks logical, but if you think about it you will see it's very lateral reasoning. It's a combination of reasoning and feeling, with the greater emphasis on feeling. The reasoning is merely for articulation. This mode of viewing connects so well with the overall tone of the film and with its themes. But this mode of viewing does not uncover any themes itself. These feelings are not themes, motifs, or symbols. I can't prove they're there. There are no objective standards for this approach, no objective way of showing one must feel this way. Yet my appreciation in this viewing mode is still true of the film. It is not true of me, or rather not just true of me, but of the film itself. It is an aspect of the film not appreciable by the classical viewing mode. This non-objective experience can be objective truth, however counter-intuitive that appears.

That is not to say alternative viewing modes are never employed. Each form of ideological criticism has adopted alternative viewing modes. The psychoanalytic theorists look for a rich subconscious rather than a rich consciousness when they watch films. They will often appreciate the most directly populist and artless films for being truer to the subconscious features of those involved and, more generally, of the types of people involved. Slavoj Zizek, for instance, highly regards David Lynch's Dune. In the classical viewing mode, Dune is generally regarded as a failure. Many ideological critics see the debate as being a matter accepting alternative sets of standards, standards that might appeal to groups of people who were not dominant in the Western tradition. So perhaps for some ideological theorists a broadening of the classical viewing mode is all that is desired. Some more radical theorists are, however, arguing for non-objective viewing modes, totally Other modes of appreciation.

Not only that, but nearly all ideological critics criticize the classical viewing mode for one reason or another. Some marxists see the classical viewing mode, which takes pleasure in pure entertainment and art, as implicitly capitalist in its accumulation of self-interested experience. Some feminists have criticized the classical viewing mode as voyeuristic and voyeurism as inherently patriarchal. I am not so much interested in their critiques of the classical viewing mode, but it is noteworthy that they do criticize it. In order to shift to an alternative viewing mode, perhaps it is necessary for some of them to discredit the classical viewing mode. I don't see it as necessary. It is possible to recognize that truth is revealed by all viewing modes, classical included. But the issue both the ideological theorists and I share with the classical viewing mode is its exclusion of all other viewing modes as revealing aesthetic truths.

Then there is the tradition Scott MacDonald calls critical cinema. This includes queer films, feminist films, avant-garde films: whatever films cannot be received according to the classical viewing mode. MacDonald writes that when we see one of these films, it "surprises or shocks us, we are forced to question the implicit assumptions about cinema our expectations encode." It is more than that. These films are designed to be beyond the classical viewing mode's scope of appreciation. One has to either find alternative viewing modes to appreciate them or leave the films exhausted by an empty experience. Those who can't shift viewing modes will feel their time and energies have been wasted. Most people, however, adapt quickly. These films take advantage of this and re-train the eyes of their viewers. They don't just prepare one to adapt to this film alone. After watching these films, one comes to normal films with re-trained eyes. After watching Su Friedrich's Damned If You Don't, can Black Narcissus or even Sister Act ever be viewed the same way again? Or indeed films without nuns. The lessons of Damned If You Don't can with little more effort be brought to Lawrence of Arabia. Martin Arnold's films train the eyes and ears to better appreciate the kinetics and aural texture of films, amongst other things. Then there are films that recycle footage. Peter Tscherkassky's Outer Space uses footage from The Entity. One thing Outer Space does is show an alternative look at The Entity itself. Recycled footage films are almost alternative viewing modes mapped out before you.

We unwittingly employ alternative viewing modes all the time. Whenever we watch a news program or the weather, whenever we spend hours watching a sports game, we're employing alternative viewing modes. When we enjoy a movie and we don't know why. We feel we can't explain it. We can't intellectualize it or prove it. The appreciation is subjective, but we know the film is objectively good enough to warrant that appreciation. In such times, we've employed an alternative viewing mode. When we enjoy a cheesy b-movie or a poorly-dubbed, low-budget '60s kung-fu movie, we employ an alternative viewing mode. Viewing for fun, for cool fights, for ass-kicking are alternative viewing modes. Yet we chastise ourselves intellectually. If our minds wander during a film, we tell ourselves we're not watching it correctly. If our attention wanders to the airplane in the sky behind the Roman centurion, we're not watching correctly. "This craving to understand," writes Cocteau, "shuts them off from the great and exquisite imprecisions that art deploys in the solitudes where men no longer try to understand, but to feel." To watch, sometimes we must sacrifice. We must fold the wings of the intellect.

There is risk of getting stuck in two ruts instead of one. We might say, "For the avant-garde film, alternative viewing; for the conventional film, conventional viewing; anything in between is bad." It is true that films often indicate to us how best they are viewed. A feminist film is probably best viewed in that mode. Citizen Kane is probably best viewed in a classical mode of the highest order. Yet, we needn't employ only one mode of viewing at a time; we needn't constrain ourselves. "Any film, no matter how ordinary is infinitely complex." This is especially true when we watch films that are terrible by classical standards. J. Hoberman, for instance, views Plan 9 from Outer Space as an unintentionally avant-garde film. Ed Wood Jr. was not attempting to make an avant-garde film. But if the viewing mode one would apply to an avant-garde film works for Plan 9, why not do it? If one is going to watch a film, one might as well get as much out of it as possible.

Such is the danger of the classical viewing mode. When we chastise ourselves, rein ourselves in, make ourselves view in that classical way, we limit not just the film but ourselves. If we view a film as solely an objectively quantifiable experience, with its story, craft, and art reducible to the standards we have ready-to-hand, we are ourselves merely measurers of the film. We constitute the film as a atomic object, a thing constructed of parts to be analyzed as a calculable coherence of forces. And we constitute ourselves as the calculators. We objectively calculate what is of value and what isn't. This is not to say these calculations are false to the film. Measuring story, craft, and art is a legitimate and worthwhile appreciation of film. The film really is an atomic object. But that is not all it is. We are measurers. But that it is not all there is to the human being. We can be more than calculators and exploiters of the film. Cocteau says 'escapism' is "a fashionable term which implies that the audience is trying to get out of itself, while in fact beauty in all its forms drives us back into ourselves and obliges us to find in our own souls the deep enrichment that frivolous people are determined to seek elsewhere." When we view the film in ways that reveal new truths about the film, we reveal new truths about ourselves. As we constitute the film in new ways with our viewing, so do we find the many ways we are constituted. When I discover the power and beauty of Africa while watching Out of Africa, I too am enriched. I constitute the film as a revelation, a prophecy. And I become more than a calculator or an exploiter. When the devout watch The Ten Commandments on television every Easter and they're overwhelmed with mystical awe, they become mystics in regards to the film. They find new depths in the film and in themselves.

So the issue we were investigating all along should be answerable now. How can a film be unwatchable when I just watched it? No film is unwatchable. We are limited only by our own intelligence, background, intuitive and creative powers. We limit ourselves at our own peril.


Sources/Further reading

Jean Cocteau's The Art of Cinema. Trans. by Robin Buss
J. Hoberman's Vulgar Modernism.
Scott MacDonald's A Critical Cinema. All volumes.
Raoul Ruiz's Poetics of Cinema.