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Screen Censorship

Remote Control: Censoring Diasporic Identities in Atom Egoyan’s Films

Commande à distance : censure des identités en diaspora dans le cinéma d’Atom Egoyan
Jean-François Baillon

Résumés

Dans les films d’Atom Egoyan, la pratique des films de famille et l’usage des appareils d’enregistrement renvoient souvent à l’expression de représentations refoulées liées à des désirs inconscients. Les personnages sont engagés dans des négociations complexes autour de la définition d’identités qui combinent une dimension sexuelle, nationale et esthétique dans une tentative de dépasser le traumatisme de la perte et du déplacement — traits caractéristiques d’une typologie de l’expérience diasporique. Le thème de la censure sous ses diverses figures, notamment celle, récurrente, de la contrebande et de la traversée illicite de frontières gardées par des variantes littérales et métaphoriques de la figure du censeur, est central à toute étude des films, et est commun à d’autres cinéastes en diaspora. Les allégories de la censure qui traversent toute l’œuvre d’Egoyan témoignent de la condition diasporique en montrant des identités clivées déchirées entre des impératifs contradictoires et cette tension créative refait surface en tant que dynamique inspiratrice des films. En fin de compte, le dispositif cinématographique lui-même rencontre sa propre image en miroir dans un contexte global où la lutte pour le droit de définir des frontières n’est plus un conflit binaire opposant des cinéastes d’une avant-garde éclairée à une censure d’État d’arrière-garde.

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  • 1 Sigmund Freud, L’Interprétation du rêve (1899-1900), in Oeuvres complètes. Psychanalyse, Paris: PU (...)

1Atom Egoyan’s recent Adoration (2008) is organised around a traumatic event in which a young pregnant woman is questioned by increasingly suspicious customs officers, who find out that – unbeknownst to her – she is carrying a bomb planted in her luggage by her terrorist husband. This situation is reminiscent of that of the main narrator of Ararat (2002), himself a terrorist’s son, who kept lying to another customs officer about the content of cans of film although he was unaware of their actual content. These are variations on a familiar Egoyan motif which has recurred with obsessive regularity ever since his first feature film, Next of Kin (1984), whose opening sequence followed the trajectory of a piece of luggage as the main character, Peter, went on a journey in which he was going to lie about his identity. This trope of smuggling and/or illicit crossing of boundaries is certainly one of the most readily recognisable patterns in Egoyan’s cinema and can be understood in terms of a mise-en-scène of spatial metaphors of censorship in the various layers of signification of that term. Although Freud himself makes a point that censorship is not actually a barrier, it may nevertheless be figured by such representations as a gate and a gatekeeper, or again by the metaphor of smuggling: we know something is being illicitly introduced but we don’t quite know the nature of what it is. The dynamic transformation of latent material into unrecognisably strange manifestations is indeed central to the Freudian characterisation of censorship in dreams.1

  • 2 The sexually explicit scenes in Where the Truth Lies (2005) caused American censors to give the fil (...)
  • 3 Christian Metz, Le Signifiant imaginaire. Psychanalyse et cinéma, Paris : Christian Bourgois, 2002 (...)

2Indeed the sexual as well as political contents of Egoyan’s films have sometimes had to face threats of literal censorship and the oblique references to incest that pervade his scenarios make him a rather controversial filmmaker.2 Censorship as an authoritarian resistance to the emergence of a valuable truth is therefore one important dimension of the term that will apply here. However, as any reader of Freud’s works on the interpretation of dreams cannot fail to understand, censorship is also a dynamic, protective power at work in the human psyche, whose job is to regulate the economy of representation through the invention of an adequate language made of blanks, erasures and transformations. As such, censorship cannot be seen merely in terms of a repressive system but rather as a productive semiotic machine which substitutes a tolerable secondary text for a hypothetic primary text whose content will remain unknown and problematic, and can only – at best – be tentatively inferred from the secondary text, which therefore actually comes first. This is reminiscent of the point made by Christian Metz in Le Signifiant imaginaire: censorship is the site where passage is both prevented and allowed.3 As in Ararat, this triggers speech which is not unlike some varieties of psychoanalytical cure: verbal performance here and now conjures up a fresh textual reality which cannot quite claim to recapture the actual dream although it is not entirely without basis in it. Hence the fundamentally ambiguous status of many shots that allegedly visualise the tales told by many narrators in Egoyan’s films whenever it comes to retrieving a controversial past – generally through the shared experience of a trauma which, more often than not, is likely to allude to Egoyan’s own status as a member of the Armenian diaspora.

  • 4 Jacques Derrida, La Dissémination (1972), Paris: Le Seuil, 1993, 118-145.

3Thus while the smugglers and trespassers of Egoyan’s films could be seen as the bearers of some forbidden or illicit impulse – be it some death wish or sexual desire – whose expression is both checked and channelled by guardians of the law, the result is invariably the intricacies of a filmic text which puts the viewer in a position of interpreter which is very much like that of a psychoanalyst. Relying on Jacques Derrida’s concepts, we will make it our hypothesis that censorship, like resistance, works both ways, and turns out to be a pharmakon: its psychological function, which is ultimately productive as well as protective, runs counter to its political and social functions, which threaten – and at times even smother – individual and collective aspirations to expression.4 In the wake of Judith Butler’s rereading of Foucault’s work on power, one cannot help noticing that, in dealing with films that invariably address the experience of trauma in ways that ultimately refer to the personal or collective experience which informs the biography of the filmmaker, the appeal to norms and the law is part of the necessary (re-)construction of a subject who has gone through some traumatic experience. In this respect, the most revealing example is probably the young Nicole Burnell’s insistence on getting a lock for her bedroom door in The Sweet Hereafter (1996), in order to signify to her father that their former incestuous relationship cannot be resumed.

  • 5 Jonathan Romney, Atom Egoyan, London: BFI, 2003, 53.

4In The Adjuster (1991), Hera (Arsinée Khanjian) uses her privileged position as member of a censorship committee to steal forbidden images for her private use. However, while the head censor to whom she is eventually denounced assumes that she smuggles the material home for her private forbidden enjoyment, the truth of the matter is that she shows it to her sister Seta, who can then approve her decisions. In other films, such as Speaking Parts (1989) or Family Viewing (1987), the practice of home movies and the use of a VCR also serve to signify the emergence of repressed or erased representations associated with unacknowledged urges. In the audio commentary to Family Viewing, Egoyan describes the character of the young man as a zombie who becomes active, and acknowledges interpretations of the film (the handling of the tapes) both in terms of the unconscious and in terms of the uncovering of the buried memory of his ancestry. As Jonathan Romney aptly puts it in his commentary on Family Viewing, when the young man discovers his father’s home porn footage, “what Van unearths is a cultural tradition and a matriarchal ideal”.5 The point of Egoyan’s elaborate plots and convoluted strategies of unveiling the networks of interrelations that bring individual stories together is to treat the intimate and the collective as if they were ultimately structured by the same expressive constraints. To paraphrase Lacan’s famous dictum, the unconscious is structured like a collective, or there is no possible cinema – this could be a motto for Egoyan’s cinema, except for the fact that storytelling is a trap, and that people tell stories to each other for very devious purposes. Taking control of the other through a carefully calibrated tale that leaves out as much as it puts in – this Machiavellian function of censorship is exemplified by the use of off-screen space in Calendar (1993), which offers one of the most radical interventions on boundaries, what they allow to pass and what they prevent from entering the field of the camera, in Egoyan’s entire oeuvre. Yet voices can easily cross the boundary of the frame and one of those voices, that of the photographer, can even be used to exert even more control over the image – at least, superficially and, as it turns out, deceptively. Thus Calendar links the photographer’s controlling activity to that of deception and self-deception – again we are exploring a territory which is both that of the psyche and that of diaspora politics.

  • 6 Ibidem, 52-53.

5Erasure, which is one of the concrete forms taken by censorship in Egoyan’s films, be it through rerecording, rewinding, editing or destroying images or texts, is sometimes close to Freud’s metaphor of the “mystic writing pad” (Wunderblock), as Romney has pointed out in the case of Family Viewing.6 From such a perspective we should pay close attention to the language used by Francis in his offer of transaction to Thomas in Exotica (1993), “do this for me and you have a clean slate” – which in this case refers to the erasure of Thomas’s smuggling operations: Francis is an accountant auditing Thomas’s not so clean pet store business. The “mystic writing pad” effect uncannily comes up both in Family Viewing, when Van’s father’s home porn gives way to home movies going back to Van’s childhood, and again in the opening sequence of Exotica, when a deceptive use of lighting suddenly allows the faces of the customs officers to appear through the glass pane which is supposed to conceal them. In a different way, one could claim that Egoyan’s multilayered films – The Sweet Hereafter, Felicia’s Journey (1999), Ararat, Where the Truth Lies (2005), Adoration – all consist in peeling off the skin of superimposed images that conceal hidden secrets in the form of other images, like a palimpsest.

6The obsession with control, which is revealed by such activities as erasing, editing or rewriting a story, is also one of the recurrent motifs in Egoyan’s cinema. Again, one founding trope, already used in his early film Family Viewing, offers an instance of the use of the literal device of remote control in a way that connects it with censorship and reflexivity. As the central protagonist, Van, is watching a soap opera on television, his father’s mistress, Sandra, enters the room after what we guess has been a day’s shopping. She sits beside him on the couch and after some preliminary small talk, they are about to kiss when the image freezes and the whole scene rewinds. While this can be understood as an equivalent of the outdated Hollywood convention of a fade-to-black or pan-to-the-right which avoids the direct presentation of a transgressive, both quasi-adulterous and quasi-incestuous sexual situation, it can also be read in terms of a reflexive device à la Haneke in which the protagonist is able to rewind the scene we have just been watching.

  • 7 Jacques Derrida, Spectres de Marx. L’État de la dette, le travail du deuil et la nouvelle Internati (...)

7However voice is probably the most recurrent means used by Egoyan characters to control others, especially in order to control them at a distance. Think of the call-girl Aline’s phone conversations, meant to arouse her customers sexually in Family Viewing, of Mitchell Stephens’s daughter in The Sweet Hereafter in the famous long-distance phone call in the car wash sequence, or of the devious strategy developed by Joseph Hilditch in Felicia’s Journey to make Felicia believe in the existence of his imaginary wife. But the voice of the disc-jockey Eric in Exotica is arguably one of the most powerful instances of control at a distance in any Egoyan film, and it is supported by the very framing of the shot showing the circulation of his voice towards the characters he manipulates, such as Francis, who has found refuge in a toilet cubicle, or by the parallelism between Eric and the head censor Bert in The Adjuster. The latter examples, like the parallel uses of the controlling voices of Eric in Exotica and the photographer played by Egoyan himself in Calendar, suggest that ultimately Egoyan’s devices are allegories of the cinematic apparatus. The structural device of the two-way mirror, which suggests that the position of the customs officers in the opening scene of Exotica is identical to that of the disc-jockey in the same film, in turn implies a powerful connection between the asymmetrical gaze of a law-enforcing figure and the self-fashioning of two characters (Thomas, Francis) who may well stand for versions of the diasporic subject. Strikingly, the structure of the gaze implied in the device of the two-way mirror is precisely that of the “visor effect” as described by Jacques Derrida in Spectres de Marx in his commentary on the look of the ghost in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Derrida comments that the structure of the visor allows for a desynchronisation of the gaze as the subject feels he is being watched by an absent Other who stands for the law and who has come from the past.7 This is exactly what happens in Egoyan’s films, in which technological devices extend the metaphor of the two-way mirror or can be seen as substitutes for Derrida’s “visor effect” – especially the ghostly video presences that seem to be looking at protagonists without any possibility for them to return the gaze, although on the face of it they seem to be in the position of manipulators of images, like Lisa or Clara in Speaking Parts, Van in Family Viewing or Hilditch in Felicia’s Journey.

  • 8 Jonathan Romney, op.cit., 30. Egoyan himself observed: “Quite early on in my career I became excite (...)

8The most radical and disturbing use of this device by Egoyan is probably the introduction in most of his films of an absent protagonist whose inferred presence, noted by several commentators, ultimately puts the viewer in such a paradoxical position – hence, perhaps, the proliferation of wheelchair-bound characters in his films. Egoyan himself has described this centrality of a “missing person” embodied by the camera, which has led Jonathan Romney to theorise that “Egoyan’s films repeatedly feature moments in which the camera apparently occupies the position of an invisible watcher, a character absent from the story who haunts it as a virtual critical consciousness”.8 In terms of our present analysis, which seeks to establish a connection between the structure of the two-way mirror, the customs officer function and the double bind of censorship, one might say that this absent gaze represents an impossibility that nevertheless structures the film and makes it whole – the theme of healing being another obsessive preoccupation in Egoyan’s cinema. On the other hand, another remarkable feature of Egoyan’s style, which he once termed “channel-hopping” – by reference to his disruptive editing which joins together heterogeneous modes of presentation –, makes it impossible for the viewer to achieve a reading of any given film in terms of suture.

  • 9 Hamid Naficy, An Accented Cinema: Exilic and Diasporic Filmmaking, Princeton: Princeton UP, 2001, (...)

9In other words, Egoyan’s films, which deal with trauma, rarely end on a sense of closure and wholeness that might pass for a transposition of the healing of wounds. This is precisely what makes them so interesting in terms of diaspora cinema. As Emma Wilson has noted in the case of The Adjuster, Egoyan’s explicit handling of the issue of censorship in that film hinges on the gap between official taste and codes of classification and the deviation from these codes introduced by Hera’s illicit smuggling of privately recorded tapes for family use. The association of her sister Seta with diasporic identity suggests that a national consensus about censorship codes may be challenged by either transnational or other alternative notions of the barrier between what is permissible and what is not: “By censoring films, Hera adjusts them to fit the official codes and the public taste, and by screening them for her sister, she helps to undermine them”.9

  • 10 Indrajit Hazra, The Bioscope Man, New Delhi: Penguin Books India, 2008, 175.

10Looking at the situation of South-Asian filmmakers might well support generalisation as it reveals that diasporic cinema displaces norms of taste and reception as well as generic expectations. In the context of the reception of Bollywood cinema in diasporic communities, as revealed for instance in Bollywood Batein, a recent study published by the British Board of Film Classification, there is a wide gap between the norms defined by official censoring bodies and the way diasporic communities perceive the contents and aesthetics of films. This raises important issues concerning the way multiculturalism has been said to accommodate new opportunities for hyphenated citizens to appropriate film as a medium. A comic, fictional illustration was recently offered by Indrajit Hazra in his novel The Bioscope Man, in which angry viewers complain about the “increase in immoral and lascivious behaviour” which is fostered by “degenerate bioscopes” which depict the female body and therefore ask the government to “control and contain” them, for the sake “of our women and youth”,10 although the makers of mythological pictures had hoped to use such consecrated material as a way not only to entertain and educate but also to some extent to circumvent censorship considerations. This passage, like several others in the same novel, is illustrative of a censoring function assumed by both audience and family circle as to what it is proper for various members of the family and the community to watch.

  • 11 Christiane Brosius, “The Scattered Homelands of the Migrant: Bollyworld through the Diasporic Lens (...)
  • 12 David Morley and Kevin Robins, Spaces of Identity. Global Media, Electronic Landscapes and Cultura (...)
  • 13 Ibidem, 123. The use of such terms as “Heimat” and “Heimatism” was in direct reference to Edgar Re (...)
  • 14 For a very recent synthesis, see his Film England. Culturally English Filmmaking since the 1990s, L (...)
  • 15 Andrew Higson, “The Instability of the National”, in Justine Ashby and Andrew Higson (eds.), Briti (...)

11The manipulation of film at home (fast-forwarding over embarrassing sequences, for instance), the extensive and selective use of video and DVD, the fascination for stars and popular genres – all these patterns of behaviour commonly encountered by social scientists also happen to be staple Egoyan obsessions. Thus in her study of the reception of Bollywood and Pakistani films on video and television by migrant families in Germany, sociologist Christiane Brosius has shown that such practices as fast-forwarding and channel-switching, which in another context form part of the sophisticated film language used by Egoyan, were used by families to preserve the continuity of tradition and the purity and authenticity of their imagined communities from the threat of western influence – a case in point being Deepa Mehta’s Fire (1996), which also raised controversy when it was released – initially with cuts – in India, because it challenged traditional notions of Indian womanhood.11 The allegories of censorship that pervade the films of some diasporic filmmakers and screenwriters testify to their condition as split selves torn between several conflicting agendas and these creative tensions in turn surface as dynamic inspiration for the films. In the end, the cinematic apparatus itself is confronted with its own mirror image in a global context in which contending for the right to define the boundary between the hidden and the obvious, the forbidden and the permitted, is no longer a straightforward, binary conflict opposing enlightened avant-garde directors or producers and backward state censorship. Instead, the work of Egoyan, seen in the light of Diaspora Studies, challenges the temptations of what David Morley and Kevin Robins have termed “Heimatism”12 in reference to the polarisation between “a sense of the contingency and permeability of cultures” and the quest for the Motherland or “Heimat”.13 Such a contextualisation of the work of diasporic filmmakers like Egoyan in turn makes sense in terms of the “instability of the national” theorised by Andrew Higson in numerous works.14 Writing from the perspective of a historian of British cinema interested in the forces of “heterogeneity and plurality” at work in the definition of a national cinema, Higson claims that such forces have always been present to undermine the stability of any dominant definition of what makes cinema “British”.15 In that sense diasporic cinema may seem paradigmatic of a disintegration of the national as a homogeneous, territorialised key of interpretation of filmic texts which is particularly relevant to a global circulation of identities and influences, aesthetic codes and generic conventions.

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Bibliographie

BROSIUS Christiane, “The Scattered Homelands of the Migrant: Bollyworld through the Diasporic Lens”, in Raminder KAUR and Ajay J. SINHA (eds.), Bollyworld: Popular Indian Cinema through a Transnational Lens, New Delhi / Thousand Oaks / London: Sage Publications, 2005, 207-238.

BUTLER Judith, The Psychic Life of Power. Theories in Subjection, Stanford, California: Stanford UP, 1997.

DERRIDA Jacques, La Dissémination (1972), Paris: Le Seuil, 1993.

____________, Spectres de Marx. L’État de la dette, le travail du deuil et la nouvelle Internationale, Paris: Galilée, 1993.

DESAI Jigna, Beyond Bollywood: The Cultural Politics of South Asian Diasporic Film, New York and London: Routledge, 2004.

FREUD Sigmund, L’Interprétation du rêve (1899-1900), in Œuvres complètes. Psychanalyse, Paris PU de France, 2003.

____________, Conférences d’introduction à la psychanalyse (1915-1917), Paris: Gallimard, 2010.

HAZRA Indrajit, The Bioscope Man, New Delhi: Penguin Books India, 2008.

HIGSON Andrew, “The Instability of the National”, in Justine ASHBY and Andrew HIGSON (eds.), British Cinema, Past and Present, London & New York: Routledge, 2000, 35-47.

____________, Film England. Culturally English Filmmaking since the 1990s, London and New York: I. B. Tauris, 2011.

METZ Christian, Le Signifiant imaginaire. Psychanalyse et cinéma, Paris : Christian Bourgois, 2002 [1977].

MORLEY David and Kevin ROBINS, Spaces of Identity. Global Media, Electronic Landscapes and Cultural Boundaries, London and New York: Routledge, 2004 [1995].

NAFICY Hamid, An Accented Cinema: Exilic and Diasporic Filmmaking, Princeton: Princeton UP, 2001.

ROMNEY Jonathan, Atom Egoyan, London: BFI, 2003.

TSCHOFEN Monique & Jennifer BURWELL (eds.), Image + Territory. Essays on Atom Egoyan, Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 2007.

WILSON Emma, Atom Egoyan, Urbana and Chicago: U of Illinois P, 2009.

Bollywood Batein, Qualitative Research Report for the British Board of Film Classification, April 2004, <http://www.sbbfc.co.uk/Assets/documents/

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Notes

1 Sigmund Freud, L’Interprétation du rêve (1899-1900), in Oeuvres complètes. Psychanalyse, Paris: PU de France, 2003, 621-2 and Conférences d’introduction à la psychanalyse (1915-1917), Paris: Gallimard, 2010, 180-1.

2 The sexually explicit scenes in Where the Truth Lies (2005) caused American censors to give the film an NC-17 rating (no one 17 years of age or under could see the film, even accompanied by a parent or guardian).

3 Christian Metz, Le Signifiant imaginaire. Psychanalyse et cinéma, Paris : Christian Bourgois, 2002 [1977], 317.

4 Jacques Derrida, La Dissémination (1972), Paris: Le Seuil, 1993, 118-145.

5 Jonathan Romney, Atom Egoyan, London: BFI, 2003, 53.

6 Ibidem, 52-53.

7 Jacques Derrida, Spectres de Marx. L’État de la dette, le travail du deuil et la nouvelle Internationale, Paris: Galilée, 1993, 27.

8 Jonathan Romney, op.cit., 30. Egoyan himself observed: “Quite early on in my career I became excited by the idea of the camera’s point of view as being that of a missing person. In each of the early dramas, and even up to Where the Truth Lies, there is some person whose absence is felt through the camera’s gaze”. (“Interview with Atom Egoyan”, Emma Wilson, Atom Egoyan, Urbana and Chicago: U of Illinois P, 2009, 141).

9 Hamid Naficy, An Accented Cinema: Exilic and Diasporic Filmmaking, Princeton: Princeton UP, 2001, 179.

10 Indrajit Hazra, The Bioscope Man, New Delhi: Penguin Books India, 2008, 175.

11 Christiane Brosius, “The Scattered Homelands of the Migrant: Bollyworld through the Diasporic Lens”, in Raminder Kaur and Ajay J. Sinha (eds.), Bollyworld: Popular Indian Cinema through a Transnational Lens, New Delhi / Thousand Oaks / London: Sage Publications, 2005, 218-224. See also Jigna Desai, Beyond Bollywood: The Cultural Politics of South Asian Diasporic Film, New York and London: Routledge, 2004, 159-191.

12 David Morley and Kevin Robins, Spaces of Identity. Global Media, Electronic Landscapes and Cultural Boundaries, London and New York: Routledge, 2004 [1995], 85-104.

13 Ibidem, 123. The use of such terms as “Heimat” and “Heimatism” was in direct reference to Edgar Reitz’s landmark film Heimat (1984), used by Morley and Robins as shorthand for discussions of European filmic genres exploring issues of past grandeur and national culture as opposed to a dismal and uncertain present.

14 For a very recent synthesis, see his Film England. Culturally English Filmmaking since the 1990s, London and New York: I. B. Tauris, 2011, especially chapter 3 (“English cinema, transnationalism and globalisation”, 67-95).

15 Andrew Higson, “The Instability of the National”, in Justine Ashby and Andrew Higson (eds.), British Cinema, Past and Present, London & New York: Routledge, 2000, 40-41.

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Jean-François Baillon, « Remote Control: Censoring Diasporic Identities in Atom Egoyan’s Films »Revue LISA/LISA e-journal [En ligne], Vol. XI - n°3 | 2013, mis en ligne le 25 novembre 2013, consulté le 18 avril 2024. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/lisa/5554 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/lisa.5554

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Auteur

Jean-François Baillon

Ancien élève de l’ENS-Ulm, Jean-François Baillon est Professeur à l’Université Michel de Montaigne-Bordeaux 3, membre de l’E.A. CLIMAS (Cultures et LIttératures des Mondes Anglophones). Membre de la SERCIA (Société d’Études et de Recherches sur le Cinéma Anglo-saxon), de l’IGA (International Gothic Association) et de l’AFECCAV (Association Française des Enseignants et Chercheurs en Cinéma et Audiovisuel). Articles et communications sur le cinéma britannique et sur les rapports entre cinéma et identités nationales. Publications récentes : « Le facteur de la liberté : archive familiale de l’exil dans I for India (2005) de Sandhya Suri », in Epistolaire. Revue de l’A.I.R.E., n° 36 (« La lettre au cinéma »), 2010, 125-133 ; J.-F. Baillon & P. Veyret (dir.), DESI La revue n° 1, janvier 2011, Presses Universitaires de Bordeaux ; « ‘Bollocks to Truffaut’ ? ou comment j’ai appris à ne pas m’en faire et à aimer le cinéma britannique… », in P. Beylot, I. Le Corff et M. Marie (dir.), Les Images en question, Pessac : PU de Bordeaux, 2011, 219-227.

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