Metaphysics and the Moving Image Trevor Mowchun A Thesis In the Humanities Program For the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Humanities (Fine Arts)) at Concordia University July 2018 © Trevor Mowchun, 2018 CONCORDIA UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF GRADUATE STUDIES This is to certify that the thesis prepared By: Trevor Mowchun Entitled: Metaphysics and the Moving Image and submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor Of Philosophy (Humanities (Fine Arts)) complies with the regulations of the University and meets the accepted standards with respect to originality and quality. Signed by the final examining committee: Chair Dr. Kristina Huneault External Examiner Dr. George Toles External to Program Dr. Nathan Brown Examiner Dr. Andre Furlani Examiner Dr. Justin E. H. Smith Thesis Supervisor Dr. Martin Lefebvre Approved by Dr. Erin Manning, Graduate Program Director December 10, 2018 Dr. Rebecca Taylor Duclos, Dean Faculty of Fine Arts iii ABSTRACT Metaphysics and the moving image Trevor Mowchun, Ph.D. Concordia University, 2018 The various forms of cross-pollination and encounter between film and philosophy have generated thought experiments which make it possible to think beyond what the two fields can do for each other to what they can do together. My guiding intuition in this thesis is that the distinct historical evolutions of film and philosophy intersect in the speculative domain of the Western metaphysical paradigm, as the film medium technologically and aesthetically reestablishes conditions for “truth” within a contemporary intellectual climate which is often described as politically “post-truth.” As the long age of metaphysics comes to a close at the turn of the 19th century, ushered in by Nietzsche’s bold declaration “God is dead” and subjected thereafter to standardized modes of critique from both continental and analytical philosophic traditions, I explore how the emergence of film at this time and its representation of what André Bazin calls “the world in its own image” marks a migration of metaphysics from rational speculation through concepts to mechanical revelation through images and sounds. The rebirth of the world in its own image in the wake of the death of God is the self-affirmation of life and marks the first principle of a new cine-metaphysics. I take seriously what appears as a mere historical coincidence (claiming that it is not a coincidence) and seek to analyze its implications for film-philosophy. With the birth of film following the death of God, I suggest that the world’s radical exposure and dramatic appearance onscreen and on its own terms, as it were, constitutes the basis not just for a continuation or return but rather a transformation of the philosophical tradition of metaphysics, rendering metaphysics “physical” and yielding a series of ontologically perspicuous figures of cinematic space-time brought to light by various aesthetic incarnations of the world in its own image. Through both theoretical and hermeneutic investigations into the metaphysical legacy of the moving image, one of my main conclusions is that in philosophy metaphysical thinking tends to result in conceptual abstraction or confusion, or is at least accused of such results, whereas cinema, conceived of as enacting the very object of metaphysical thought, can bring about the audiovisual clarity of the everyday. iv Acknowledgments I would like to thank my good fortune in not having had my way eight years ago; that my bold yet poorly conceived plan, upon finishing a Masters in film studies, to switch into philosophy for my Ph.D., failed to materialize; that I found a program where I could study film and philosophy together (and literature, for my love of art did, I seem to recall, begin with books); that everything worked out as it did; that I find myself, here and now, after so many years, giving thanks to those who had to hear all about it, bear it too, intermittently or incessantly, wondering or worrying what will become of me. And while thinking of the heavenly support of others, I also pause over the good fortune of my own physical and mental health along the way, for I do tend to keep much to myself and regularly rely on the top part of my head for perspectival advice. First to my parents and their support from a distance: like the lamp humming softly in the winter, the fan gently whirling in the summer, as it is right now as I write and think of them. Such unconditional and routine support, I realize, takes great persistence and is hard work unsung. To my mother in particular for insisting on watering me like a plant during the most precarious of times, which helped calm the nerves associated with that silly sense of pride—its delusion of complete and utter self-sufficiency, the folly in one’s need to prove oneself at the worst possible time, where even if one succeeds one may not be much stronger for it. To my best friends from school, Shaun Gamboa and Julio Valdez Jover, whom I met at Concordia University, Montreal back in 2010. These friendships are unique in that they were forged in the fires of Ph.D. passion and peril, the difficulties of which make friendship not only desirable but absolutely vital to one’s survival. While the years seemed to sail by uncontrollably one after the other, they also rose high above us like mountains, edging out the previous year’s trials and tribulations—and the harder it got the more our specially formulated laughter concoction proved effective in the face of what sometimes struck us as an absurd life path. For this reason and others too private to mention, I feel that we are forever bonded and that nothing more than a spirited glance, today or ten years from now, is required to reignite the meaning behind our meeting each other in the first place. Students in the Humanities interdisciplinary program are blessed with not one but three advisors. Allow me to introduce my team: Martin Lefebvre, Andre Furlani, and Justin E. H. Smith. Remarkably, all of them trusted me to find my own way through the vastness and thickness of v metaphysics, this being the only way to breathe life into an extremely old albeit renewable subject. When I hit one of the many walls lurking about, I imagined how the three of them—a film scholar, a literary scholar, and a philosopher—might combine their critical tools, powers of insight and constellation of exemplars in finding a way forward by passing in-between, rather than exclusively within, the boundaries of their respective fields of knowledge. Today we are pressed to specialize, to master a set of objects or texts or questions and address those who are or seek to become masters too, but my experience has shown that no one at work in the Humanities—that is, no one in the throes of their most committed expression of thought, feeling and action—effectively satisfies the profile of a specialist, and that is a good thing. The comments and good counsel I received from my advisors almost always displayed the mark of those fit to dwell at the borders of their respective “countries” where ideas could be freely exchanged rather than patrolled. There were times, I admit, when I moved forward too swiftly and barged somewhat recklessly through these walls, failing to appreciate the fine masonry and brutal legwork of the mind’s pragmatic accrual of what I despise in calling “common sense.” I am grateful to Martin who took it upon himself, with a patience and tactfulness all too rare, to put a hand on my shoulder, a mirror to my face, and interject with the tone of the concerned father: “Let’s back up a bit, shall we? Have a look around and collect your bearings. Be sure to assert what is relatable, to believe what is actually believable.” In this way he taught me a great deal, and nothing more important than that self-criticism is not to be feared, certainly not more than praise. Now to my partner, Cecile Cristobal, who I am now honored to call my wife—thank you for your undying support. A thesis tests oneself, hence one’s life, hence everyone with whom one lives. It tests it the way any “project” risks justifying an unbridled commitment to—ultimately, regrettably—oneself, what we call “our work.” While I do not have any deep regrets about my occasionally uncompromising work ethic, I am not proud of it either. I ought to wake up every morning and thank everyone who stayed. At the same time, writing a thesis has the power to exude a sumptuous warmth from a kitchen of ideas, the aroma of quiet and steady thinking from a corner of the house which may, for some, harbor an air of familiarity. I for one find such an atmosphere intoxicating, and throughout the writing of this thesis I relished the sudden shifts from metaphysics to everyday domestic matters, from completing an abstract thought to preparing the evening meal, sometimes using the concreteness of the latter to escape my fate to think from what may be too great a height. For those times when I did stumble over such shifts, I confess to having vi overestimated the importance of this work: no labor of love should ever come in between one’s ability or desire to love! This is precisely the sort of nonsense and hypocrisy we scholars are expected to quickly diagnose and treat, routinely and with ease, shelving it along with the other childish toys of yesteryear. To professors John Hunting, Brian Price, and George Toles, and my dear friends Daniel Gerson, Mustafa Uzuner and Mijeong Lee, for commenting on written drafts, conference presentations and more improvised conversations in which I sought to distill the main philosophical motives and aesthetic currents of the thesis.