The Condition of Postmodernity 13 - autonomous learning

The Condition of Postmodernity 13 - autonomous learning The Condition of Postmodernity 13 - autonomous learning

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318 The experience of space and timetale.' His search to reconstruct and tell this tale of salvation andprotection is a subtle sub-plot throughout the film that assumes itsimportance only at the very end.But there is a second site where a fragile sense of identity prevails.The circus, a spectacle held together within the enclosed space of atent, offers a venue of special interaction within which some kind ofhuman relating can go on. It is within this space that the trapezeartist, Marion, acquires some sense of herself, a possibility of achievingand belonging. But the news that the circus is out of money and hasto close shows immediately how ephemeral and contingent thatidentity is. The short-term contract prevails here too. Yet Marion,while plainly distressed at this news, insists she has a story, and thatshe is going to go on creating one, though not in the circus. She evenimagines going into a photo-automat and emerging with a newidentity (the power of the photo image, once more), taking up a jobas waitress or whatever. Her own history, we are reminded as one ofthe angels watches her in her caravan, can in any case be collapsed(like that of Deckard) into family photographs pinned to the wall, sowhy not build a new history with the aid of photographs? !hesefantasies are suffused, however, with a powerful aura of deslre tobecome a whole rather than a fragmented and alienated person. Shelongs to be complete, but recognizes that this can come to be onlythrough a relation with another. After the tent is down and thecircus is gone, she stands alone on the empty site, feeling herself aperson without roots, without history, or without country. Yet thatvery emptiness seems to hold out the possibility of some radicaltransformation. 'I can become the world,' she says, as she watches ajet airliner cruise across the sky.One of the angels, Damiel, already chafing at his powerlessness toresonate with the here and now, is attracted by Marion's energy andbeauty, particularly in the performance of her trapeze act. r:e becomescaught up in her inner longings to become rather than Just tobe. For the first time he gets a glimpse of what the world would looklike in colour, and he is increasingly drawn to the idea of enteringthe flow of human time, leaving behind the time of the spirit and ofeternity. Two catalytic moments trigger his decision. She dreams ofhim as the resplendent 'other,' and he sees himself reflected in herdream. Invisible still, he follows Marion into a night club and, as shedances dreamily by herself, he touches her thoughts. She respondswith a sense of rapturous well-being, as if, she says, a hand is softlytightening within her body. The second catalytic moment is withPeter Falk who, it later transpires, is an angel come to ground sometime ago. He senses the presence of the invisible Damiel as he takes aTime and space in the postmodern cinema 319cup of coffee at a street stall. 'I can't see you, but I know you'rethere,' he says to a surprised Damiel, and then goes on to speak withwarmth and humour of how good it is to live in the flow of humantime, to feel material events, and take tangible account of the wholerange of human sensations.Damiel's decision to come inside is taken in the no man's landbetween two lines of the Berlin Wall, patrolled by soldiers. Fortunately,his fellow angel has the power to place him on the westernside. There Damiel wakes up to a world of rich and vibrant colours.He has to navigate the city in real physical terms, and in so doingexperiences the exhilaration that comes with creating a spatial story(in the manner of de Certeau) simply by traversing the city, whichthen no longer seems as fragmented but which assumes a morecoherent structure. This human sense of space and motion contrastswith that of angels, earlier depicted as a hyper-space of speedingflashes, each image like a cubist painting, suggesting a totally differentmode of spatial experience. Damiel shifts from one mode to theother as he enters the flow of time. But he needs money, now, tosurvive. He borrows enough from a passer-by to buy a cup of coffeeand trades in a piece of ancient armour (which we subsequently learnis the initial endowment of all angels who come to earth) andemerges from the shop with a colourful set of clothes and a watchwhich he inspects with the greatest interest. He comes across the setwhere Peter Falk is filming, and here experiences a major checkbecause the guard will not let him enter. Cursing the guard, he has toshout to Falk through a chain link fence. Falk, who guesses immediatelywho he is, asks him, 'How long?' Damiel replies, 'Minutes,hours, days, weeks, . .. TIME!' to which Falk immediately responds,with kind and gentle humour, 'Here, let me give you some dollars!'Damiel's entry into this human world is now firmly located withinthe co-ordinates of social space, social time, and the social power ofmoney.The coming together of Damiel and Marion is clearly meant as theclimactic point of the film. The two circle each other in the samenight-club she had been in before, watched tiredly by Damiel'searlier angel companion, before coming together in the bar close by.There they meet in an almost ritualistic way, she ready and determinedto make her history, to supersede being with becoming, hedetermined to learn the meaning of the flow of human experience inspace and time. In the lengthy monologue that follows, she insists onthe seriousness of their common project even though the timesthemselves may not be serious. She insists on doing away withcoincidence and contingency. The temporary contracts are over. She

320 The experience of space and timetries to define a way of coming together that has a universal meaningbeyond this particular plac , e and ti , e, There I1a'y not b, e ,any ,desti y,she says, but there is certamly declSlon, And It IS a declSl r: m whIchall the people of the city, even of the world, can pa tlClpate, Sheimagines a square full of people, and that she and Damiel are so fullof that place that they can make a decision for all. It is a decisio r: toforge a bond between a man and a woman around a common projectof becoming, in which a woman can say 'my man' in such a way asto open up a whole world to fresh insight and interpretation. , Itmeans entering the labyrinth of happiness through the tran formatlonof desire into love, so that she can finally be truly alone wIth herself,because to be truly alone presupposes a wholeness that can comeonly through a non-contingent relation to another. It seems she nowhas answers to the compelling questions: 'Why am I me and notyou?' 'Why am I here and not there?' and 'Where did time begin andwhere does space end?' What is born of their coming togethe : ,reflects Damiel as he helps her to practise her trapeze act after theIrfirst night together, is not a child but an immortal image that all canshare and live by.It is hard to prevent this ending slipping into banality (presaged bythe kitschy dream sequence in which the angel comes to Marion inresplendent silver costume). Are we to conclude, after all, that it ismerely romantic love that makes the world go round? A charitablereading might be that we should not let our jaded experience ofkitsch and pastiche stand in the way of liberating romantic desire andundertaking major projects. But the final shots are portentous indeed.The film switches back into the monochrome of enduring time. Theold man, with whom we have lost all contact in the coloured sequencesof the film, shuffles towards the Berlin Wall, saying, 'Whowill look for me, their story-teller? They need me more than ever.'The camera suddenly zooms past him and up into the clouds, as iftaking off in flight. 'We are on our way,' says Marion. More is tofollow, the final credit assures us.I read this second part of the film as an attempt to resurrectsomething of the modernist spirit of human communication, togetherness,and becoming, out of the ashes of a monochromatic anddead-pan postmodernist landscape of feeling. Wenders is plainlymobilizing all his artistic and creative powers in a project of redemption.He proposes, in effect, a romantic myth that can redeemus 'from the formless universe of contigency' (see above, p. 206). Thefact that many angels, according to Falk, have chosen to come toearth, suggests that it is better always to be inside than outside theflow of human time, that becoming always has the potential to breakTime and space in the postmodem cinema 321with the stasis of being. Space and time are constituted in radicallydifferent ways in the two parts of the film, and the presence ofcolour, creativity, and, we should not forget, money as a form ofsocial bonding, provides the necessary framework within which somesense of common purpose can be found.Yet there are serious dilemmas to be resolved. Damiel has nohistory, and Marion is cut off from her roots, her history reduced toa set of photographs and a few other 'objects of memory' of the sortthat now constitute the sense of history both in the home (see above,p. 292) and in the museum (see above, p. 62). Is it possible to setabout the project of becoming a-historically? The old man's persistentvoice seems to question the viability of that. The sheer romanticismof the ending, he seems to say, has to be tempered by areal sense of history. Indeed, Marion's image of a whole 'Platz' ofpeople participating in their decision, raises the spectre of when thePotsdamer Platz turned ugly as it filled with flags. Put more formally,there is a tension in the film between the power of spatial images(photographs, the film itself, the striving of Damiel and Marion atthe end to make an image the world can live by) and the power ofthe story. The old man (described as Homer, the story-teller in thecredits) is in many respects marginalized within the film, and complainsexplicitly at that very fact. Becoming, according to him, has tobe more than creating just another set of depth less images. It has tobe situated and understood historically. But that presupposes thathistory can be captured without the use of images. The old man leafsthrough a book of photographs, wanders into the Pots darner Platztrying to reconstitute its sense of place from memory, and remembersit when it turned ugly, not conducive to that epic of peace that heseeks. This dialogue between image and story provides an underlyingdramatic tension in the film. Powerful images (of the sort thatWenders and his brilliant cameraman, Henri Alekan, know how towield only too well) can both illuminate and obscure stories. In thefilm they overwhelm the verbal messages the old man tries to communicate.It is almost as if the film gets caught in the circularity(known in the postmodernist lexicon as 'intertextuality') of its ownimages. Within this tension lies the whole issue of how to handle theaesthetic qualities of space and time in a postmodern world ofmonochromatic fragmentation and ephemerality. 'Perhaps,' saysMarion, 'time itself is the sickness,' leaving us to wonder, as in thefinal sequence of Blade Runner, 'how much time we've got,' Butwhatever that may mean to the participants, the monochromaticlandscape of eternal time and infinite but fragmented space plainlywill not do.

318 <strong>The</strong> experience <strong>of</strong> space and timetale.' His search to reconstruct and tell this tale <strong>of</strong> salvation andprotection is a subtle sub-plot throughout the film that assumes itsimportance only at the very end.But there is a second site where a fragile sense <strong>of</strong> identity prevails.<strong>The</strong> circus, a spectacle held together within the enclosed space <strong>of</strong> atent, <strong>of</strong>fers a venue <strong>of</strong> special interaction within which some kind <strong>of</strong>human relating can go on. It is within this space that the trapezeartist, Marion, acquires some sense <strong>of</strong> herself, a possibility <strong>of</strong> achievingand belonging. But the news that the circus is out <strong>of</strong> money and hasto close shows immediately how ephemeral and contingent thatidentity is. <strong>The</strong> short-term contract prevails here too. Yet Marion,while plainly distressed at this news, insists she has a story, and thatshe is going to go on creating one, though not in the circus. She evenimagines going into a photo-automat and emerging with a newidentity (the power <strong>of</strong> the photo image, once more), taking up a jobas waitress or whatever. Her own history, we are reminded as one <strong>of</strong>the angels watches her in her caravan, can in any case be collapsed(like that <strong>of</strong> Deckard) into family photographs pinned to the wall, sowhy not build a new history with the aid <strong>of</strong> photographs? !hesefantasies are suffused, however, with a powerful aura <strong>of</strong> deslre tobecome a whole rather than a fragmented and alienated person. Shelongs to be complete, but recognizes that this can come to be onlythrough a relation with another. After the tent is down and thecircus is gone, she stands alone on the empty site, feeling herself aperson without roots, without history, or without country. Yet thatvery emptiness seems to hold out the possibility <strong>of</strong> some radicaltransformation. 'I can become the world,' she says, as she watches ajet airliner cruise across the sky.One <strong>of</strong> the angels, Damiel, already chafing at his powerlessness toresonate with the here and now, is attracted by Marion's energy andbeauty, particularly in the performance <strong>of</strong> her trapeze act. r:e becomescaught up in her inner longings to become rather than Just tobe. For the first time he gets a glimpse <strong>of</strong> what the world would looklike in colour, and he is increasingly drawn to the idea <strong>of</strong> enteringthe flow <strong>of</strong> human time, leaving behind the time <strong>of</strong> the spirit and <strong>of</strong>eternity. Two catalytic moments trigger his decision. She dreams <strong>of</strong>him as the resplendent 'other,' and he sees himself reflected in herdream. Invisible still, he follows Marion into a night club and, as shedances dreamily by herself, he touches her thoughts. She respondswith a sense <strong>of</strong> rapturous well-being, as if, she says, a hand is s<strong>of</strong>tlytightening within her body. <strong>The</strong> second catalytic moment is withPeter Falk who, it later transpires, is an angel come to ground sometime ago. He senses the presence <strong>of</strong> the invisible Damiel as he takes aTime and space in the postmodern cinema 319cup <strong>of</strong> c<strong>of</strong>fee at a street stall. 'I can't see you, but I know you'rethere,' he says to a surprised Damiel, and then goes on to speak withwarmth and humour <strong>of</strong> how good it is to live in the flow <strong>of</strong> humantime, to feel material events, and take tangible account <strong>of</strong> the wholerange <strong>of</strong> human sensations.Damiel's decision to come inside is taken in the no man's landbetween two lines <strong>of</strong> the Berlin Wall, patrolled by soldiers. Fortunately,his fellow angel has the power to place him on the westernside. <strong>The</strong>re Damiel wakes up to a world <strong>of</strong> rich and vibrant colours.He has to navigate the city in real physical terms, and in so doingexperiences the exhilaration that comes with creating a spatial story(in the manner <strong>of</strong> de Certeau) simply by traversing the city, whichthen no longer seems as fragmented but which assumes a morecoherent structure. This human sense <strong>of</strong> space and motion contrastswith that <strong>of</strong> angels, earlier depicted as a hyper-space <strong>of</strong> speedingflashes, each image like a cubist painting, suggesting a totally differentmode <strong>of</strong> spatial experience. Damiel shifts from one mode to theother as he enters the flow <strong>of</strong> time. But he needs money, now, tosurvive. He borrows enough from a passer-by to buy a cup <strong>of</strong> c<strong>of</strong>feeand trades in a piece <strong>of</strong> ancient armour (which we subsequently learnis the initial endowment <strong>of</strong> all angels who come to earth) andemerges from the shop with a colourful set <strong>of</strong> clothes and a watchwhich he inspects with the greatest interest. He comes across the setwhere Peter Falk is filming, and here experiences a major checkbecause the guard will not let him enter. Cursing the guard, he has toshout to Falk through a chain link fence. Falk, who guesses immediatelywho he is, asks him, 'How long?' Damiel replies, 'Minutes,hours, days, weeks, . .. TIME!' to which Falk immediately responds,with kind and gentle humour, 'Here, let me give you some dollars!'Damiel's entry into this human world is now firmly located withinthe co-ordinates <strong>of</strong> social space, social time, and the social power <strong>of</strong>money.<strong>The</strong> coming together <strong>of</strong> Damiel and Marion is clearly meant as theclimactic point <strong>of</strong> the film. <strong>The</strong> two circle each other in the samenight-club she had been in before, watched tiredly by Damiel'searlier angel companion, before coming together in the bar close by.<strong>The</strong>re they meet in an almost ritualistic way, she ready and determinedto make her history, to supersede being with becoming, hedetermined to learn the meaning <strong>of</strong> the flow <strong>of</strong> human experience inspace and time. In the lengthy monologue that follows, she insists onthe seriousness <strong>of</strong> their common project even though the timesthemselves may not be serious. She insists on doing away withcoincidence and contingency. <strong>The</strong> temporary contracts are over. She

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