Mary Ann Doane's book, The Emergence of Cinematic Time, is a refreshing look at the advent of cinema, which both reflected and responded to a variety of modern epistemological concerns at the turn of the century. Throughout her investigation, Doane beautifully illustrates just how revolutionary photography and cinema were/are. Early twentieth-century cinematographers found themselves at the centre of a series of philosophical debates about time, history, memory, aesthetics, and more. Some of these questions were novel, pertaining directly to emergent film technology and the camera apparatus, while others had ancient origins, such as Zeno's paradoxes of motion. In all, Doane presents an eclectic group of thinkers and artists that were very much aware of their platform and the historical contexts in which they were situated.
There are a million different points of departure here. Doane challenges us to grapple with the extremely complex and often contradictory nature of cinema - a medium that simultaneously confirmed and denied the present moment, seemingly transcending time even as it was irreducibly bound to the contingencies of temporality. It is interesting to see how those modern debates about cinematic time have persisted over time, granting them an almost timeless quality themselves. I really liked Doane's analysis of chronophotography and the quirky, borderline neurotic ways that its proponents applied film to the hyper-rationalization and regulation of industrial labour-time. In these moments, I couldn't help but think of Chaplin's Modern Times, specifically, and slapstick more broadly. This acute sense of referentiality and temporal connectedness is one of the biggest appeals of Doane's work.
However, I also found myself growing frustrated with a number of elements in this text. Echoing what other Goodreads reviewers have already said, Doane has a tendency to get caught up in the minutia. At times, I found myself wondering exactly where she was going with some of her ideas, and I couldn't really see how they tied into the bigger picture. I think her book could've benefitted from a little tighter editing, and perhaps a greater reliance on footnotes. When you put every secondary character up on centre-stage, the audience will lose sight of the stars...
I also take issue with some of the arguments in Chapter 5, "Dead Time, or the Concept of the Event". In this chapter, Doane principally looks at two early short films, connected thematically by their portraits of death. The first of these films is the early documentary-style Electrocuting an Elephant (1903), which plainly depicts the actual electrocution of an elephant. The second film is The Execution of Czolgosz (1901), a picture that mixed real-life footage with dramatic reenactments of an execution scene. In their own unique ways, both short films could be understood as anticipating the coming 'docu-drama' subgenre. Curiously though, Doane claims that "[...]Execution of Czolgosz fits readily into the well-accepted category of the dramatic reenactment, a subgenre that lost its currency around 1907". That statement is simply not true. If anything, the subgenre has only grown in popularity, owing to its clever ability to adapt to the epistemological blindspots of emerging technologies. For instance, in the 1970s and 1980s, you have the mondo and exploitation genres, through such films as Cannibal Holocaust and Faces of Death, which - precisely like Execution of Czolgosz - seamlessly blend fake and real footage in ways that continue to shock and confuse generations of new audiences. The incredibly successful Blair Witch Project and the explosion of 'mockumentary' and 'found footage' in the 1990s only further reinforces this point. Into the 2000s, you increasingly see internet-based images of death and dying in the so-called 'snuff' or 'shock videos' that surface from the deep web, rendering individuals like Luka Magnotta de facto celebrities. Still, Doane writes: "In the cinema, the tendency to depict death in this form, in a direct and unmediated way for the gaze of the spectator, lasted for only a brief period of film history, a period that is also bound up with speculations about the new technology itself (what it is for, what it can do)." She seems to have a flimsy grasp on the intimate relationship between cinema and death.
Those complaints aside, I really enjoyed this book and I'm sure I'll turn the ideas over in my head for a while to come. Highly recommended to anyone with an interest in the history of cinema, semiotics, and the philosophy of time.