Millennial Cinema: Memory in Global Film

PREFACE

Millennial Cinema: Memory in Global Film argues that the turn of the twenty-first century obsession with memory has had a particular impact on the production and reception of contemporary film. As an anthology it seeks to make a significant contribution to a growing area of teaching and research in memory studies. Demand for research and teaching on the topic of memory has proven inexhaustible; there is a huge appetite for this subject in the intellectual world today, as can be seen in the multitude of conferences organised and books or journals published in the last few years. But there are also significant gaps in this research, which Millennial Cinema is designed to fill, including studies of films treating memory in the era of the so-called ‘memory boom’. In its single focus on the intersection of memory and film at century’s end/beginning, Millennial Cinema meets a demonstrable need and opens up exciting new lines of scholarly inquiry.

Indeed, this volume is the first anthology to treat this particular nexus of film, memory, globalisation and contemporary history. In the last ten years or so, several studies have begun to explore memory in cinema more broadly, but none with such sustained contemporaneity or global focus. Recent anthologies on memory and visuality include Ana Douglass and Thomas A. Vogler’s collection Witness and Memory: The Discourse of Trauma (2003) and Lisa Saltzman and Eric Rosenberg’s anthology Trauma and Visuality in Modernity (2006). Both these texts explore trauma and visual culture, but neither explores problems of memory more broadly or pursues an international scope. Paul Grainge’s edited collection Memory and Popular Film (2003) is more broadly focused on film and memory, but is not contemporary and focuses almost exclusively on Hollywood cinema. Pam Cook’s Screening the Past: Memory and Nostalgia in Cinema (2004) is thematically closer to Millennial Cinema, but Cook’s monograph provides a very broad overview of cinematic developments rather than a detailed focus on individual texts. While she discusses some contemporary films, many of the most interesting and challenging films of the new millennium have been produced since her study. Annette Kuhn’s An Everyday Magic: Cinema and Cultural Memory (2002), another relevant volume, studies the activity of cinema-going and spectatorship more than the cinematic texts themselves. While Millennial Cinema also addresses issues of spectatorship and phenomenology, it does so from the perspective of the films rather than the audiences.

Several additional volumes do not treat film specifically, but they do highlight a growing interest in visual studies of memory across disciplines. Two texts exploring the subject of memory in the media include Marcia Landy’s edited collection The Historical Film: History and Memory in Media (2000) and Gary R. Edgerton and Peter C. Rollins’ anthology Television Histories: Shaping Collective Memory in the Media Age (2001). Loosely related as well is Vivian Sobchack’s anthology The Persistence of Vision: Cinema, Television, and the Modern Event (1996), which deals with the history of modernity’s representation in the mass media. Robert A. Rosentone’s interesting volume Visions of the Past: The Challenge of Film to Our Idea of History (1995) explores how ideas of history are transformed when translated into images, a companion project but one quite different from the focus here on memory as a trope of the contemporary politics in recent films.

To our knowledge, there are no comparable texts available. What makes this volume unique is its interdisciplinary treatment of memory as a core component of films over the past twenty years. This interdisciplinary scholarship develops a new archive for enquiry into one of the central, as yet unexplored, problematics of cinema and culture at the turn of the twenty-first century.

Finally, Millennial Cinema demonstrates that memory is at the heart of film theory, technology, form and history of this period. Combining individual readings and interdisciplinary methodologies, our anthology thus offers some new analyses of the most discussed and debated films of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century.

INTRODUCTION

MILLENNIAL CINEMA: MEMORY IN GLOBAL FILM

AMRESH SINHA AND TERENCE MCSWEENEY

Millennial Cinema: Memory in Global Film is the first anthology devoted exclusively to the study of memory, in its multiple forms, in twenty-first-century cinema, across films as diverse as In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar-wai, 2000), Memento (Christopher Nolan, 2000), Mulholland Drive (David Lynch, 2001), City of God (Fernando Meirelles, 2002), Irreversible (Gaspar Noé, 2002), Oldboy (Chan-wook Park, 2003), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry, 2004), Moolaadé (Ousmane Sembene, 2004), Caché (Michael Haneke, 2005), Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) and The Namesake (Mira Nair, 2006). The fascination with memory, which spans the globe, crossing ideological and cultural boundaries, is the central theme of this volume which interrogates films by some of the most well-known, interesting, challenging and talked-about directors working in cinema today around the globe.

Starting in the 1980s, memory became a significant topic across diverse humanities and social science disciplines. By the 1990s it was quite apparent that the technologies of globalism had affected the public discourse of memory in a thoroughly unprecedented manner all across the varied economic, political and cultural spectrum of the globe. One might trace this ‘memory boom’ to Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi’s first publication of Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory in 1982. In the same year, Paul de Man published his famous paper on memory in Yale French Studies. A new edition of Yerushalmi’s book was published in 1989, the same year that the English translation of an excerpt of Pierre Nora’s epochal ‘Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Memoire’ appeared in the spring issue of the now defunct journal, Representations. The work of Yerushalmi, de Man, Nora and, later, Derrida, Blanchot and the renaissance in Benjamin studies mark the beginning of the ‘global memory culture’ across the disciplinary boundaries of many North American universities. What started as an anxiety-prone discourse of the Jewish ‘collective memory’ (borrowed from Maurice Halbwachs) that Yerushalmi feared (a sentiment also shared by Nora and Jacques Le Goff, the French historian) would be ‘eradicated by the conquering force of history’ not only proved to be erroneous but launched a memory discourse that has proliferated in so many different areas of academic discourse that it is hard to imagine that memory as a subject matter prior to the turn of the century was mostly applied to the fields of classical philology, behavioural and/or applied psychology and neurobiology (see Nora 1996: 2).

Historically speaking, the rapidly growing phenomenon of memory studies at the intersection of local/global in the millennium is deeply indebted to Holocaust Studies and to the emergent discourse of national memory in postmodern and postcolonial studies of literature and films in the 1980s and 1990s. A number of conferences, journal articles, special collections and monographs quickly followed, making the 1990s the decade of memory across a number of research disciplines. Commenting on the world-wide popularity of the topic of memory in the millennium, Andreas Huyssen, states that ‘since the epochal change of 1989/90, we observed the emergence of a transnational or global memory culture of astonishing proportions, and we have come to ask ourselves what the intense focus on the past and on traumatic memory might mean for the history of the present’ (2007: 81–2). This ‘astonishing’ growth of memory studies has much to do with the changing constellation of time and space with regard to the intensification of globalising process in the turn of the twenty-first century. Perhaps therefore, the best way to examine how the emergence of this new phenomenon, the ‘memory boom’, has impacted upon the cultural productions of films around the globe is by asking scholars in the field of Philosophy, Literature, Humanities, Cultural Studies, Cinema Studies and the Arts, to consider particular works produced in different parts of the world during the beginning of the new millennium.

It is fitting that memory has become part of the cinematic zeitgeist. Since its invention film has had an almost symbiotic interaction with memory. The intertwining of memory and writing is underscored by both Plato and Aristotle and most notably in our times by Derrida. The presence of writing, as mechanical or prosthetic memory, has altered the very nature of memory and its reproduction. Although both Plato and Aristotle associate writing with the decline of memory (see the myth of Theuth, the inventor of writing, in the Phaedrus), we, on the other hand, following Proust and Derrida, believe that the existence of writing has transformed the nature of memory by releasing it from the confines of interiority of the soul into the exteriority of things/signs (see Plato 1998: 85, 274c–275a). It is equally the case that the invention of the photographic medium and then cinema also changed memory, in even as powerful and compelling ways. Perhaps the memory auteur sui generis, Andrei Tarkovsky, asserted that it was with the invention of the cinema in the last decade of the nineteenth century that man had created the means to effectively capture and replicate time: ‘And simultaneously the possibility of reproducing that time on screen as often as he wanted, to repeat it and go back to it. He acquired a matrix for actual time’ (Tarkovsky 1989: 62; emphasis in original). This ‘impression of time’ that Tarkovsky described shares the functions of memory in its ability to create a replica of a moment from the past and store it for later ‘use’. For film this moment is captured and projected onto a screen; in the realm of the mind a memory is recreated through thought; for what more is memory other than an ‘impression of time’?

This anthology seeks to raise important questions about the relationship between film and memory in the twenty-first century. It focuses on cinematic representation – situated within broader technologies of representation across the twentieth century – illuminating key elements of memory studies. What precisely is the relationship between memory and film? Is cinema the technology of memory par excellence, as so often asserted in its early emergence into popular culture? Or are the tensions between cinema and memory such that filmic representation is always already ‘traumatic’, in Freud’s sense of the term, a retroaction that can only be realised in its future manifestations, such as the dimly-lit world of film reception? What do theories, technologies (virtual and prosthetic) and histories as well as social and cultural forms of memory tell us about how the past is remembered or forgotten? In other words, how does memory become cinematic, and has this process changed in the era of so-called globalisation? Moments recorded on film have become part of an indelible sense of cultural memory, touchstones of experience even for those not there to witness the events firsthand. Consider the lingering presence of the famous 26 seconds of the Zapruder footage, the moon landings or more recently the destruction of the Twin Towers in New York by two hijacked commercial airliners on 11 September 2001.

Here we address these questions through an interrogation of the complementary and at times contradictory relation between film and memory across dominant and emergent cultures of the late twentieth/early twenty-first centuries, and so the volume concentrates on films that captured public attention and created a media spectacle since the late 1990s. Christopher Nolan’s ground-breaking and critically acclaimed Memento, which unfolds in a reverse direction (like Gaspar Noé’s Irreversible) in which the protagonist suffers from a condition of anterograde (short-term) memory loss, or Michel Gondry’s dizzying Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in which a heartbroken man seeks to undergo a procedure which will literally erase the memories of a former girlfriend from his mind before ultimately discovering how integral these memories, both good and bad, are to his personality. Films like Oldboy, In the Mood for Love and Pan’s Labyrinth deal with memory in more cultural and historical ways, but each tell intriguingly personal stories concerned with the role of memory in the formation of identity. Collectively these films represent, interrogate and participate in an archive of the recent past, a cultural synthesis and disjunction in film historiography worth interrogating as an epochal fragment of collective consciousness.

Fig. 1 The reverse chronological structure of Memento forces the viewer to experience a form of the protagonist’s anterograde amnesia.

It is our hope that this volume will make a unique contribution, connecting considerations of memory to studies of film theory, culture, history and globalisation. It explores, from multi-faceted perspectives, the ‘screening’ of memory during the period of its alleged historical apotheosis: the turn of the twenty-first century. The following pages examine questions of amnesia, virtual memory, cultural and historical memory, episodic memory, collective memory, prosthetic memories, nostalgic experience and notions of (diasporic) identity in relation to memory by opening them up to the mnemonic discourses of theorists such as Hegel, Kant, Freud, Benjamin, Husserl, Proust, Bazin, Deleuze, Bergson, Ricoeur, Derrida, Foucault and others. More specifically, this book offers twelve chapters written exclusively for the volume that reflect a wide range of critical perspectives on discourses of memory in contemporary global cinema. These chapters focus in particular on diverse discourses of memory as they emerge through as well as opposed to the dominant narrative structures of Hollywood and global cinema.

This recent scholarship is split between studies of memory and trauma. While these areas overlap, there are also significant differences between them. Studies of memory have frequently undertaken broader historical and cultural critique. Explorations of the rise of memory as a concept have focused on the long nineteenth century and its generation of new theories and technologies of the self. For Pierre Nora ‘the historical transformation of memory marks a decisive shift from the historical to psychological, from the social to the individual, from concrete … to subjective, from repetition to remembrance’ (1996: 11). At the turn of last century, memory not only becomes ‘a private affair’, but it also finds itself deeply implicated in the Freudian discourse of trauma of the primal scene. Yet, despite this overwhelming interest in the study of memory and trauma, no single volume has yet explored the centrality of memory to films of this era in a global context. Existing work focuses almost entirely on broad, interdisciplinary approaches to individual and collective memory, either in its normative or its distorted forms. This anthology thus fills a substantial gap in film scholarship and is designed to reach audiences across Film Studies, to those interested in Cultural Studies, Feminism, Critical Theory, globalisation and contemporary politics. The volume is also specifically designed for teaching, intended for students and tutors in the fields of Film Studies, Cultural Studies, Philosophy and Communication Theory. It makes a vital contribution to a growing area of teaching and research in memory studies, and gathers essays from a range of perspectives that interrogate the historical privileging of print media over other genres of representation, while also questioning the turn to visual media as the sine qua non of memory, particularly as it figures crises of the twentieth century.

The growing influence of Henri Bergson and Gilles Deleuze on recent studies of both memory and film are evident in the first section of the book which is entitled Virtual and Prosthetic Memory. The explosion of Deleuze-related volumes can be partially attributed to the expanding interest and research on memory and identity. David Rodowick’s account in the ‘Preface’ of his brilliant book on Deleuze suggests that the publication of Deleuze’s two influential cinema books ‘had comparatively little impact on contemporary Anglophone film theory’ (1997: ix). Judging from the articles in this anthology, Rodowick’s account seems rather premature, or simply incorrect. Out of twelve chapters in this volume, almost all share a strong critical and interpretive reading of Deleuze’s cinema philosophy, especially in relation to memory. Another strong current that permeates through various articles in this volume is the cultural and historical representation of memory in our contemporary global cinema. We have also designed the structure of the volume to include trauma and allegory; the latter signifies the art of storytelling in the memory discourse. A set of articles is devoted to precisely the allegorical and traumatic reconstruction of memory in films, namely those by Amresh Sinha (The Namesake), Belinda Morrisey (Memento and Mulholland Drive), Warwick Mules (Tom White) and Alanna Thain (Caché).

Thematically and structurally, the chapters are grouped under three subheadings engaging with both topical and emerging memory debates which have appeared in the first decade of the new millennium: (1) Virtual and Prosthetic Memory; (2) Traumatic and Allegorical Memory; (3) Historical and Cultural Memory. The volume begins with an analysis of one of most controversial and compelling films of recent years, Irreversible. In ‘Time, Memory and Movement in Gaspar Noé’s Irreversible (2002)’, Paul Atkinson considers the relationship between memory and film experience in Noé’s shocking film. Atkinson’s starting point is the Bergsonian concept of durée, or Bergson’s claim that time is irreversible due to the interpolation of memory in perception. This idea is intriguingly explored in relation to Irreversible where the future is shown before its past, with the narrative revealed in the form of a succession of continuous flashbacks. Atkinson’s analysis involves an examination of reversibility and irreversibility in the film; in particular, the relationship between phenomenological and narrative aspects of film form. Irreversible highlights the implied role of memory in narrative and audience reception through the inversion of its plot. This inversion foregrounds the theoretical connection between the occurrent memory of the viewer and the visible memory of the film.

The Academy Award-winning and hugely successful Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is one of the most ‘theoretical’ films to come out of Hollywood since the turn of the century. In ‘Reconstructing Memory: Visual Virtuality in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’, Steven Rawle proposes that the film revolves around the relationship between images of memory and more concrete ‘real’ objects. Drawing on Deleuze’s theory of ‘the crystal image’ and corresponding notions of virtuality, Rawle explores how the film depicts images of the recollected past, which coalesce with actual experiences in the perception of present moments. Gondry’s use of repetitive stylistic and narrative schema manifests the past in the ‘present’ moments of narration throughout the film, especially during its memory-located sequences. By engaging with questions of spectatorship Rawle also contemplates the viewers’ own experience of watching the film, arguing that Gondry’s cinematic reconstruction of memory as theory engages the audience as an experiential force.

In ‘Death Every Sunday Afternoon: The Virtual Memories of Hirokazu Kore-Eda’s Afterlife’, Alanna Thain’s reading of this highly sensitive and nuanced Japanese film in the millennium is also deeply inflected by the works of Deleuze and Bergson. She is interested in exploring the question of cinematic specificity and its relation to memory through Bazin’s seminal essay ‘Death Every Afternoon’. Thain suggests that we often think of memory and memorialisation as a kind of fidelity to the past, remembrance as an act of love. If cinema has altered this, it might be in the sense that memory has become linked to a kind of infidelity through the force of cinematic repetition, a repetition that Bazin’s essay describes as both the ultimate form of cinematic specificity and at the same time its greatest obscenity. By developing the notion of love as the infidelity of the filmic self, Thain argues that film itself functions as a memory machine. Love becomes the hinge between cinema and memory in Afterlife, with each of the main characters trying to come to terms with their memories of having been loved. Thain’s reading of the film provocatively explores film’s technological mediation of reality, memory and the role of the spectator.

We move in this section from the virtual to transnational memory, to cinema as memory machine, as prosthetic memory. We have included three chapters in this section representing Brazilian, Indian diasporic and African cinema. The emphasis here is on the treatment of memory in global culture, the intergenerational conflicts of transnational memory in the diaspora, and the memory of personalised and historicised trauma of female genital mutilation in a remote Senegalese village. We begin with Russell J. A. Kilbourn, in "Prosthetic Memory’ and Transnational Cinema: Globalised Identity and Narrative Recursivity in City of God’, who takes on Alison Landsberg’s idea of ‘prosthetic memory’ in application to the critically acclaimed Brazilian film City of God (2002) by Fernando Meirelles. ‘Cinema as cultural memory is not a new idea’, Kilbourn concurs, ‘but what does it really mean to think of cinema as a kind of global memory system; as both source of and storehouse for our collectively most cherished memories?’ What ‘we’ consider as our ‘own’ memory is to a large extent constituted in this day and age of globalisation by the discourse of visual representations in news media, film and photography. By conforming to the generic cinematic code of Hollywood cinema, City of God, as an example of transnational postmodern cinema, invokes both nostalgia (à la Jameson) and a sense of an artificial collective memory system in the global consumption of these cinematic codes. City of God is thus at once intensely local, i.e. Brazilian, both in cultural and political terms, but also global in the sense that it lends itself to the commodification of visual matrix across transnational spaces. Kilbourn’s focus in this chapter is to theorise the intertextual aspects of ‘prosthetic memory’ – ‘the eminently cinematic nature of postmodern memory’ – in City of God, within the context of global consumption of popular culture produced in America.

Amresh Sinha, in ‘Memories of a Catastrophe: Trauma and the Name in Mira Nair’s The Namesake’, explores the complex nexus between memory, trauma, desire and the name in the Indian diaspora in the United States. According to him, the significance of the relationship between the name and memory cannot be ‘exaggerated’ in the context of this film. Through a complex analysis of the significance of Gogol’s name as the sine qua non of remembering, Sinha introduces us to a trajectory in film and cultural studies that has been rarely traversed. The inseparability of the name from its identity is the crux of Sinha’s thesis which he mediates through the works of Hegel, Benjamin and Derrida. The name ‘Gogol’ responds, answers to, in the memory of the name, in the absence of the self. It is in that sense, in its ‘essence’, that the name signifies an exteriority, an outside, which resists being dialectically absorbed by the interiority of recollection. ‘Gogol’ becomes an exterior sign, tekhné, of remembering the trauma, both inside and outside of its textual significance, in the allegory of a father/son relationship, exemplified in the context of literary genealogy between Gogol and Dostoyevsky, the latter acknowledging the debt of his literary father by declaring the often repeated mantra in the film: ‘We all came out of Gogol’s Overcoat’. It is Sinha’s contention that a film like The Namesake must also be interrogated from a political – the politics of diaspora and transnationalism, the intergenerational conflict – as well as a philosophical and ethical perspective, focusing on the bond between name and memory, between memory and trauma.

David Murphy addresses the politics of memory and tradition in the final film of the enigmatic Senegalese auteur Ousmane Sembene in ‘Filming the Past, Present and Future of an African Village: Ousmane Sembene’s Moolaadé’. Throughout his long and prestigious career Sembene was one of many African directors to reject what the anthropologist Johannes Fabian called, in his landmark text, Time and the Other (1983), the ‘denial of coevalness’ to which Africa has been subjected by the West, consistently relegated to a less ‘developed’ moment of human existence. Moolaadé reveals a rural Africa in a struggle with its ancestral past in which a remote village wrestles with the issue of female genital mutilation (or excision), at the turn of the twenty-first century, which allows the director to explore competing notions of time, place and memory. The unchanging mythical framework that village elders (male and female) locate the village within is challenged by a rival memory of the past, at once both personal and historicised, revealed through the character of Collé whose recollection of her own traumatic experience of excision motivates her to protect her daughter and other girls from the hands of the Salindana (the women who carry out excision). In one of the film’s most striking images, one which offers an ambiguous commentary on the potential of a technologised future for rural Africa, a shot of the ostrich egg atop the village mosque is replaced by the image of a television aerial. This is no timeless village, living out an eternal repetition of the past: on the contrary, it is a place locked in a struggle to determine its relationship to the past and the nature of its evolving present.

Following explorations of Global Memory, the anthology considers the emergence of concepts of Traumatic Memory on film and questions how memory takes ‘form’ through various discourses of trauma. Cathy Caruth, in the ‘Introduction’ to Trauma: Explorations in Memory, suggests that ‘the phenomenon of trauma has seemed to become all-inclusive, but it has done so precisely because it brings us to the limits of our understanding: if psychoanalysis, psychiatry, sociology and even literature are beginning to hear each other anew in the study of trauma, it is because they are listening through the radical disruption and gaps of traumatic experience’ (1995: 4). We might add that film, given its visceral and kinetic properties of narrative, visual and sound has the potency to reflect on the nature of trauma with considerable force.

Film has frequently been drawn to memory trauma even before the likes of Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941), Random Harvest (LeRoy, 1943) and Spellbound (Hitchcock, 1945). In the last ten years traumatic memory has become more and more of a recurring motif in the cinema across a diverse variety of genres exploring the ‘disruption and gaps’ afforded by memory trauma narratives: see dramas like Memento, Mulholland Drive and The English Patient (Minghella, 1996), thrillers such as Memories of Murder (Joon Ho-Bong, 2003), and even action films such as The Bourne Identity (Liman, 2002), science fiction as in Paycheck (Woo, 2003), Dark City (Proyas, 1998) and Southland Tales (Kelly, 2006) or comedy as in Clean Slate (Jackson, 1994) and 50 First Dates (Segal, 2004). Many of these films conduct experimentation with film form as a way to comment on the nature of trauma and engage in complicated debates concerning identity and truth in both the personal and the cultural spheres.

In ‘Impossible Memory: Traumatic Narratives in Memento and Mulholland Drive’, Belinda Morrissey compares the ways in which narrative memory and traumatic memory are portrayed in two of the most intriguing Hollywood films of the decade, Christopher Nolan’s Memento and David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive. Both feature protagonists who experience traumatic events which affects their memory in different ways. Morrissey astutely analyses how psychological theories of traumatic memory correspond to modern aesthetic forms: where narrative memory is analogous to realism, and traumatic memory is expressed in postmodern structures. However, Morrissey casts doubt on such unproblematic assertions in her readings of Memento and Mulholland Drive. In Memento, when Leonard Shelby, a prototypical traumatic subject in search of narrative memory manages to recreate his narrative, the audience is not certain whether the ‘truth’ has been reached, or whether Shelby’s whole search has been some sort of simulation or fantasy. By recreating Shelby’s troubled memory in the narrative structure and stylistic presentation of the film, Nolan facilitates a sense of shared and fragmented understanding on the part of the audience. A similar effect is achieved by Lynch in the surrealistic, neo-noir Mulholland Drive, when the protagonist Betty Elms (and the various aliases she may or may not have throughout the film) encounters a beautiful, mysterious woman living in her apartment whose only memory is that someone is trying to kill her. Like many of Lynch’s texts the Möbius-strip-like narrative reflects Betty’s fragmented psyche and memory by creating alternative scenarios, dreams, events and multiple identities to cover whatever the ‘truth’ actually might be. Ultimately the conclusions of both Mulholland Drive and Memento prove as unstable and unambiguous as their protagonists and, according to Morrissey, in doing so they present a sustained challenge to memory forms and reveal how traumatic memory is effectively dramatised by the cinematic medium.

Terence McSweeney also explores the impact of a traumatic event on the protagonist of Oldboy, reading the film as a cultural artifact and symptomatic of a personal, historical, national and cultural identity crisis in ‘Memory as Cultural Battleground in Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy’. Like many contemporary South Korean films Oldboy both reflects and provides a commentary on the anxiety and lingering identity trauma caused by the turbulent social and political events of the twentieth century in Korea. Oldboy, the second part in the Park’s ‘Vengeance Trilogy’, is arguably the emblematic text in the emergence of the New Wave of South Korean Cinema. McSweeney explores the ability of film to recreate traumatic memories on screen with a visceral potency as the protagonist is forced to participate in the reconstruction of his own memories as if they were a decidedly palpable present. The hero of the film, Oh Dae Su, can persuasively be seen as an interrogation of the traumatic history undergone by the divided peninsula and the attempt of South Koreans to reconcile themselves with their past and the possibility of unification in the future.

Warwick Mules, in ‘The Future at Odds with the Past: Journey Through the Ruins of Memory in Alkinos Tsilimodos’s Tom White’, discusses the Australian film Tom White (2004) which portrays a very different Australia to the one audiences have become familiar with in populist works such as Crocodile Dundee (Faiman, 1986), Muriel’s Wedding (Hogan, 2004) and Australia (Luhrman, 2008). Mules reads the film as an allegory that reflects on the condition of global, corporatised capital and the people whose lives are affected by it in modern advanced economies. The eponymous Tom White suffers a mental breakdown, traumatised by his disillusionment with the aims of life under corporate capitalism. In this essay, Mules also explores this potential in Tom White (and by implication in all film) as film’s deconstruction of its own materiality as a Deleuzian time-image: the figural tracing of its own event as an appearing or disappearing, as becoming. Drawing on ideas from Benjamin (‘dialectical images’), Barthes (Photographic Image), Deleuze (Movement and Time-Image) and Derrida (Archive), Mules’ essay shows how it is possible to recover the figural dimensions of film through ‘destructive forgetting’, the exposure of the structure of forgetting enacted in film as the very affirmation of a ‘yet to come’ in absolute openness – a positive affirmation of life in the ruins of self-forgetting.

This anthology concludes with an exploration of a more historical and cultural approach to memory which raises questions crucial to the understanding of the connection between memory