Project Mimique London

Alphaville and the Inhuman

Silence - Logic - Security - Prudence


1.0 Technology and rationalisation destroy the Idea of the survival of humanity from within[1]

"The past represents its future, it advances in a straight line [...] yet it ends by coming full circle". Alpha 60, voice played by a man who had his larynx replaced by a voice box, the artilect at the heart of Jean-Luc Godard's 1965 dystopic masterpiece, Alphaville, holds the key to postmodern science fiction, "a desperate rehallucination of the past"[2], combined with a terror of the hyperreal. The cybernetic model mediated through traces of the everyday, an immanent tyranny haunted by Auschwitz. Here, the map engenders the territory, the artilect the quotidian; in Alphaville, Alpha 60 defines the parameters of life, work, speech and thought and ultimately war. More about "him" later on.

In his essay Simulacra and Science Fiction, Jean Baudrillard suggests that a postmodern science fiction would put
    decentred situations, models of simulation in place and [...] contrive to give them the feeling of the real, of the banal, of lived experience, to reinvent the real as fiction, precisely because it has disappeared from our life. Hallucination of the real [...] but reconstituted, sometimes down to disquietingly strange details [...] brought to light with a transparent precision, but without substance, derealised in advance, hyperrealised (1994, p 124).
Godard deploys the bureaucratic cityscape of La Defense (Paris) and the architecture of suburban banlieues and orbital motorways (invariably shot in an expressionist darkness, windows, bright lights gleaming) as a strategy of hyperrealisation. The city of Alphaville is not without qualities for the connoisseur: bright neon in the north, corporate aesthetics in the centre. Tafuri and Dal Co (1976) argue that there is a fundamental ambiguity in the scale of such bureaucratic architecture, an 'artificial absolute' in the purism, accentuated by the randomness and lack of overall purpose in these symbols of efficiency and organisation. Other commentators point to this architecture's impersonality, to a non-place of supermodernity, but it is the buildings' understatement, their rationality and repression (I'm thinking of the corridor here) and (in particular) the celebration of the foyer, that Godard utilises. In a phrase, their human resonance. But perhaps the word 'humanity' is no longer on Alpha 60's list.

Structuralist linguistics has it that there is no escape from language, and it is worth considering Godard's painstaking construction of this semantic dictatorship and its resistance.
  • The film foregrounds a semiotics of constraint, a complex based on the arrow and the circle. At face value the arrow could be taken as a signifier of technocratic direction. Its symbolic associations include a phallicism and intriguingly, the light of supreme power (Cirlot, 1962, p 20). The phallus is a subtle theme in the film, pivoting around the main female character Natasha Vonbraun (Anna Karina). The circle implies limitation, precision and regularity, and as Alpha 60 dictates, has connotations of time. ("Time is like a circle, which is endlessly described. The declining arc is the past. The inclining arc is the future"). The time of Alphaville is that of a continuous present ("The present is the form of all life" says Alpha 60; "the present is all one can know in life" says Natasha Vonbraun), implying a schizophrenic logic at work in the structures of the city.

  • Godard situates the film in the formalist genre, placing acute attention to detail in the cinematography. In his brilliant dissection of the film, Chris Darke (2005) traces the arcs and linear movements of the camera throughout the film, as components of the mise en scène. Circular arcs interplay with both scene (architecture) and dialogue, most notably in the scenes at the Institute of General Semantics, where the anti-hero, Lemmy Caution (Eddie Constantine) disguised as Ivan Johnson, a jaded intergalactic agent in a pale mac and a worn countenance, attends a lecture by Alpha 60. Darke identifies (p66) this as a process of spatial dislocation as three-dimensional space is transformed into two-dimensional representation. That the IGS is pivotal within the film is alluded to by the gliding curve of the camera as Caution ascends (a most beautiful) curvilinear staircase to attend the lecture. It is here that the audience is confronted with its status as voyeur (Mulvey's 'invisible guest', a moment of Metz's 'pure voyance'), caught in puzzled interest in the lobby, complicit with the pervasive surveillant gaze. The title of the institute is perhaps no idle choice. The reference here might be to an American school of linguistics which believed that the study of processes of communication could influence the resolution of conflict -- at an individual, local and international level (Leech, 1981, pxi). The inference however is towards the conceptual engineering of the Soviet bloc. This is underlined by Godard's appropriation of photography by another auteur, Chris Marker, used in the opening credit sequence, of peace murals in East Berlin, one portraying a dove of peace, the other a tank on a mountainside (Darke, p 85). Such conceptual engineering obscures the use of fifth columnists to subvert the Lands Without (the region Caution hails from and Alphaville is ranged against). Alpha 60 attempts to hire Caution for such a trick.

  • Hierarchy is counterposed to individuality. Alphaville citizens intone a standard, circular, greeting ("I'm very well. Thankyou. You're welcome"), a phatic variation on status (phatic communion [Malinowski] ensures social cohesion), while Godard deploys variations on singularity in Caution's battle against the machine. Incompatibility ("Increasingly I see the human form...as lovers' dialogue. The heart has but one mouth") and subvention of what semanticist's call "two-value orientation" (both constitute semantic deviance) are prominent in the quoted lines of Eluard's poetry and ranged against Alpha 60 ("Our silences, our words...Light that goes...light that returns. A single smile between us both. In quest of knowledge, I watched night create day [...] Everything ordered by chance"). In Alphaville, semantic creativity is a systemic contradiction. It is thus processed and harmonised by Alpha 60 (despite the execution of poets and lovers) to enhance system performance. The all-pervasive Dictionary (the Bible of Alphaville's morality) pays lip service to the open-endedness of language by ritually throwing out words (Natasha mourns the passing of "Redbreast, weeping, Save those who weep...autumn light...Tenderness...tenderness too, Mister Johnson), and instituting neologisms (one feels that political concepts and scientific jargon replace feeling in such a dictatorship), "[r]educing the universe to order in new and improved ways" (Leech, p 32).

2.0 A reserve beyond reason or technology
    When you are tender you speak your plural (Barthes, 1978, p 225)
Subject versus Object. Sender versus Receiver. Helper versus Opponent. Godard explodes such structural polarities by giving us characters that are bleak, ciphers for the inhuman, and foregrounding the relational connective as independent entity. Love opposes Caution to Natasha, the silence of infinite space opposes the Lands Without to Alphaville, and poetry opposes Natasha to Alpha 60. All three connectives function as a reserve. To the author this hints that Alphaville is actually an anti-structuralist work.

To love is to lose. It is a condition defined by the absence of the other, a language of solitude. Caution drags Natasha towards despair, anxiety, nausea, jealousy, rage, defined by the book he takes from his dying colleague, Henry Dickson (Akim Tamiroff), Paul Eluard's Capital of Pain. A world she is scarcely prepared for. Yet early on he proffers no emotion towards herself, and at the end of the film he makes a typically masculine demand for (empty) words of profound affection without return, an "impossible demand for unity".
    Once the first avowal has been made, 'I love you' has no meaning whatever; it merely repeats in an enigmatic mode -- so blank does it appear -- the old message [...] I repeat it exclusive of any pertinence; it comes out of the language, it divagates -- where? I could not decompose the expression without laughing (Barthes, p 147).
Blankness, straying, laughter. Later Barthes quotes Jacques Lacan, the phrase evokes "'[a limit situation] where the subject is suspended in a specular relation to the other'". Natasha becomes trapped within a mirror of Caution's unreasonable demand. Barthes speaks too of the "sentiment of absence and withdrawal" -- a profound irreality or dislocation -- experienced by the amorous subject in social situations, similar perhaps to the irreality of postmodern science fiction. Remarkably, one does not laugh at the ending of the film. Karina carries it off, and still the statement retains its ambiguity.

Caution's response to Alpha 60's question "What did you feel as you passed through Galactic Space?" is from C17 philosopher Blaise Pascal (Darke, p 65). One might well fear finitude more. Alphaville operates on a closed construct. "Time has run out, the reign of finitude is upon us" Henri Lefebvre grumbles of post-Hegelian philosophers and the moderns. Lefebvre asserts the active nature, the violence, of space (no longer simply a medium) and defers to Nietzsche: "'Infinity is the original fact; what has to be explained is the source of the finite [...] In infinite time and in infinite space there are no terminal points.' Here thought is overcome by a kind of vertigo. Yet, he adds, 'though it has nothing to hold on to, humanity must somehow stand upright -- therein lies the immense task of the artist'" (1991, p 181).

In Alphaville, one might say that the limits are themselves the stakes. The Lands Without are the 'not-there' of the plot, but the hinge on which it hangs, the defining absence. Alphaville is destroyed to protect the freer worlds. Little is known about the Lands Without (a place with "splendid galactic corridors" as Caution's guidebook relates!), save that their government sent a secret agent to assassinate or bring home (presumably for trial and execution) Professor Vonbraun (Howard Vernon), aka Leonard Nosferatu, Natasha's father and inventor of Alpha 60. It appears well known in Alphaville technocratic circles that Nosferatu (the reference to Murnau's vampire is obvious) is persona non grata in the Lands Without (banished in 1964), that Nosferatu has simply ceased to exist. The Lands Without are mediated through tourist catch phrases: Tokyorama, the Land of the Rising Sun; Florence, where the sky is as blue as the South Seas; Nueva York, probes Caution (which brings forth Natasha's trite rhyme: "Where the winter, Broadway, a glitter in a snow fur coat"). Pretty then, but hardly a libertarian paradise. Such issues are glossed over in the film. The ending is portrayed as an escape.

Caution too functions as a reserve beyond reason or technology. There is a masculine proairetic powering the narrative, all focus is on Caution as man of action. Caution himself, with the studied blankness of Constantine's technique, functions predominantly as a sign, obscured for the contemporary UK audience, of the anti-hero of Peter Cheyney's novels, and the seven other Lemmy Caution films derived from them, beginning in 1952, hugely popular in France (Darke, p19). In these Constantine plays Caution as a French-speaking FBI agent. Professor Vonbraun addresses this potentiality of the sign directly when he turns to Caution and tells him "You will become worse than dead. You will become a legend". Caution replies in typical hard-boiled fashion "Yes, I'm afraid of death...but for a humble secret agent that's a fact of life, like whisky", then shoots Professor Vonbraun, precipitating the collapse of Alphaville.
    In Alphaville, Constantine's persona was less 'pulverised' than 'purified', reduced to its essence. Godard referred to Constantine more than once as being like a 'block', and all the extraneous pediments attached to Lemmy Caution -- the whisky, dolly-birds, and punch- ups -- are either stripped away or thoroughly remodelled by the director (ibid, p 20).
Violence itself is either "dispensed in 'homeopathic doses'" (ibid, p20) or avoided. There is a strong sense of self-parody in Constantine's approach to the role, and Godard makes play with grammatological ease. Caution's conversation with Dickson mentions Flash Gordon and Dick Tracy (Guy Leclair in France). He outwits Alpha 60 with Pascal, Bergson, and via Natasha, prolific deployment of Eluard (from more than one source). Darke suggests this is all reminiscent of Pop-Art ("Reporter and Revenger both begin with a 'R'! Tell your boss!" Caution shouts as he pursues Vonbraun down a labyrinthine corridor). In the making of Alphaville, Godard draws on surrealism, film noir and German Expressionism, bandes dessinées, philosophy, pulp novels (Caution is reading The Big Sleep as he shoots the pin-up through the nipples), mythology (ibid, p 52), and formalist literature. The mythic reference is to Orpheus, who rescued Eurydice from the Underworld, only to have her snatched from under his nose because she looked back. Caution actually tells Natasha "Don't look back!" as they drive towards intersidereal space. Darke notes that for Godard, Cocteau was the director who defined cinema as "the only art which 'films death at work'" (ibid, p95). The death he was filming might well have been Constantine's for, as Darke relates, Alphaville killed Lemmy Caution off. Constantine made only one more appearance as the jaded spy: in Godard's Allemagne 90 neuf zero (1991).


3.0 Relation to affect and order through a form that makes both possible.

There is a tension between Caution and Natasha which is barely resolved by the time of their escape from the city, and their relationship is marked by mutual incomprehension. Caution has a sexist aggression ("Aren't you ever propositioned?" he asks her, "Has no-one ever fallen in love with you?""You don't want me to flirt with you?", in disbelief). At one point, leaving the hotel with Natasha, he pushes her against the wall, ("Just how big a fool do you take me for? Answer me!"), complaining, as if he had known her for some time, "Check, Princess! I can't make head or tail of what you're talking about. That's how it is. You never understand anything". Natasha seems to make him uneasy. He compares her to a pretty sphinx, and notes her "small pointed teeth", reminding him "of an old vampire film...the sort they used to show at cinema museums". For her part, Natasha meets him with a formal reserve tempered by her ingenue eyes. In a Greimasian structuralism, Natasha would also function as the false helper. When she returns, she is on a mission to betray him, yet he declares his love and hands her the Capital of Pain, the codebook to Alphaville's opposition, hoping that she will provide a clue. It seems Lemmy himself cannot decipher it, and assumes that it holds secret messages.

The betrayal is a incongruous event in the film (although perhaps faithful to a typical James Bond scenario), yet delivered with impeccable comic timing. Alphaville's secret police arrest Caution, and order Natasha to disable him with Story 842.
    Natasha: One day a tiny man entered a North Zone cafe...and ordered a cup of very hot, sweet coffee...adding "I shan't pay, because I am afraid of no- one". He drank his coffee. He left. He didn't pay for his coffee. For the sake of peace, the cafe owner said nothing. But when the tiny man repeated the trick three times...the cafe owner decided to get a tough to sort him out. So, on the fourth day...when the tiny man called for his cup of coffee...the tough lumbered up to him and said: "So you're afraid of no-one?" "That's right". "Well neither am I". "Make that two cups of coffee", called the man. [Caution begins laughing hysterically].
In psychoanalytical terms, one might hazard that the betrayal is an acceptance of lack (i.e. the lack of a phallus), yet Natasha is a phallic symbol. Indeed, were we in any doubt, she has the sign of the phallus emblazoned on her coat in white fur which circles the hem and creeps up towards her face. The norms of Alphaville conceal her deficiency, but also secure Natasha a mode of access to the phallic, literally by way of the Name of the Father. The relation of affect and order takes place via Natasha through the theme of the phallus. Thus phallic yet castrated, Natasha is the site of a rupture, although, within the structure of the film, (the concealment) of a (surrealist) truth. Considering the issue of difference, lack and the woman in film, Stephen Heath (1978, p 83) asserts that
    the woman is not the ruin of representation but its veritable support in the patriarchal order, the assigned point at -- on -- which representation holds and makes up lack, the vanishing point on which the subject that representation represents fixes to close the division of which it is the effect; setting in place then, in the alienation-separation return of a modelling of desire in which the woman takes the (imaginary) place of the Other, is procured as the truth of man,
that is, she takes the place of God, adding crucially,
    the difference of the woman is the visibility of the man, the assured perspective, the form of exchange; with woman representing as the lack, the difference, her projection as image and screen, the point -- the erotic return -- of a certain mystery, the veil of truth ('this lack is only ever presented as reflection on a veil' Lacan, SII p261).
Caution is crucial to this scenario: the phallus is intersubjective, it is only by means of Caution as other that Natasha's identity with the phallus can be confirmed. Caution has to appropriate Natasha as love object, only then is his own alignment ensured, i.e. during the betrayal scene and at the end of the film. That the subject is constituted as a subject by language is a Lacanian truism, but again Natasha's position seems to bear this out as her voice-over speaks the words of Eluard. After this pivotal scene, as a character, she is redeemed in the eyes of Caution.

"Sentiments adrift [...] I went towards you, endlessly towards the light". The film opens with a light flashing ominously, the districts of the North and the South are introduced with bright neon words, scientific formulas wink at the camera, windows and car headlamps glare during the linking sequences, and one frame features a concentric light sculpture. Light is what makes the film strange (critical to the Formalist schema) and again makes possible a relation for the audience between affect and the order of Alphaville. As Chris Darke points out (p56), light is at once part of the set, the mise-en-scène and the plot (that is, diegeticised). Sharp contrast revisits the harsh chiaroscuro of German silent cinema and American film noir, and allows Godard to introduce his theme "presence of the future" as well as evoke the sense of the uncanny that haunts films such as Dr. Mabuse and the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Darke, p57). The sharp contrast enhances the polarities at the heart of the structuralist system ruling Alphaville. Darke comments: "If Alphaville can be seen as one of Godard's exercises in mimetic film criticism -- that is criticism conducted in the language of the medium -- its object is, of course, cinema, and the light that is brought to bear on it is a light from cinema's past" (p55). Darke notes (p59) the use of the negative in the scenes as Alpha 60 self- destructs, as a quotation from Murnau's Nosferatu and Cocteau's Orphée, signifying an uncanny transition from one state of being to another. Light is also intrinsic to the morality of Alphaville, it is a means of deprivation. Caution asks: "Why does everyone look so miserable?" Natasha replies: "You ask too many questions. Because they lack electricity".


4.0 Affects involved in communication of a limit to order, in the context of the Kantian sublime.

Inverting Jean-Francois Lyotard (1991), one might venture that in the determinations of the cinematic, the indeterminate, the 'it happens', is the film itself, the syntagms of shot and sequencing, the action as it appears on the screen. Unlike a painting, where such a sensation of event is not expressible, film glories in the moment. Narrative and editing are articulated strategically to produce the event - as turning point, denouement, moments of pathos and so forth. It is this articulation which secretes the sublime, which I would suggest is the dominant message of the film. This is nowhere more eloquently expressed than in Natasha's soliloquy composed from seemingly-random phrasing of Eluard's poetry, beautifully evocative of the inexpressible, evoking a limit to the city's all pervasive order.

The soliloquy, and the conversation that precedes it, comprise an intensity of surrealist imagery which gives the scene the cast of a dream. For Edmund Burke, the sublime was a matter of intensification: of the conceptual and emotional capacity of the spectator, a contradictory pleasure (Lyotard, 1991, p100).
    Intensity is associated with an ontological dislocation. The art object no longer bends itself to models, but tries to present the fact that there is an unpresentable; it no longer imitates nature, but is in Burke, the actualisation of a figure potentially there in language" (ibid, p 101).
For Burke, language, in particular poetry, was instrumental in the production of terror (ibid, p84) (a terror of miscomprehension, of inaccessible imagery or conversely, a threat that language will cease, or one might hazard, with the avant-garde in mind, will be damaged). As enunciating beings we can effect with word combinations sentiments that would be impossible by any other means. Poetry demands that the poet confront the "failure of the word" (ibid) by provocation of the unheard of phrase. For Burke, the poet opens up an infinity of associations with the simplest of expression. Literature too has the freedom of syntactical experimentation, an unlimited power of "language, in all its sufficiency" (ibid, p85). Lyotard mentions in a later essay, in the context of a discussion of Plato, that when discourse is sublime, it tolerates imperfections and inversions of syntax, a mark of true grandeur. "Grandeur in speech is true when it bears witness to the incommensurability between thought and the real world" (ibid, p 95), pure description of the Eluard/Godard text. For terror to be permeated with pleasure and produce the emotion of the sublime, the terror-causing threat must be suspended (ibid, p99). Such a privation produces relief and hence delight. After the shock, par excellence, of Natasha's soliloquy, her off-screen reading abruptly cuts off, and Caution brings the subject back to the imminent threat of brainwashing and treachery.

The phrasing in the soliloquy is marked by its simplicity, its simple inversions, its use of plain words in unusual combinations. Lyotard also touches on the writings of Boileau, the translator of Longinus, a Greek teacher of rhetoric and author of the treatise On the Sublime (C1/C3AD). Here the sublime is concealed beneath words, perhaps the extreme simplicity of a turn of phrase at a moment when one might expect bravura, or in silence (ibid, p94). A thought parallel to the subliminal. The soliloquy is iconic as a figure of the rhetorical sublime. And throughout Caution's engagement with authority he deploys artful quotation (out of context) with a tip to minimal economy of form, hints of the sublime concealed within the dialogue.
    There is no figure of speech than one which is completely hidden, that which we do not realise as a figure of speech. Must we admit that there are techniques for hiding figures, that there are figures for the erasure of figures? (ibid, p95).
Later, aesthetics comes to supplant poetics and rhetoric in the conception of the sublime. The implication of this is that one should analyse the way the spectator is affected, their ways of experiencing feeling, ways of judging works. Fundamentally: "what is it to experience an affect proper to art?" (ibid, p 97). The soliloquy shifts what is a clever film to a profoundly moving one. It is the incomprehensibility of the poetic syntax, the juxtaposition of opposites, and surrealist imagery, not the myth of true love that animates such feeling.

The sublime is an emotion which seizes one, a shock, an event that makes for the sensation. For Kant, in the sublime, pleasure is mixed with pain, pleasure comes from that pain. There is a "dislocation of the faculties", a cleavage in the subject, producing the tension that characterises the sublime, as the faculty of presentation fails to provide a representation corresponding to the Idea of reason. A "double pleasure" emerges as the imagination strives to figure, confronted with the paucity of images (ibid, p98) (or as here perhaps the contradictory syntax). Lyotard asserts that there is a trace of the avant-garde in the Kantian aesthetic of the sublime. Kant pointed in a direction towards minimalism and abstraction (Lyotard is thinking here of painting). Both space and time are unrepresentable in their magnitudes, they are pure Ideas. One might, however, invite them with negative presentation (ibid). By this Kant evokes a figural paradox, the Mosaic law forbidding the casting of graven images. Godard himself refuses that sine qua non of popular cinema, sex, as component of the pivotal love/betrayal scene.

Lyotard presents us with a conundrum. The avant-garde task he says, remains that of "undoing our presumption of the mind with respect to time. The sublime feeling is the name of this privation" (ibid, p 107). In our current times, he says, "[a] confusion [...] becomes possible, between what is of interest to information and the director, and what is the question of the avant-gardes, between what happens -- the new -- and the Is it happening? the now" (ibid, p 106), the sublime of the postmodern moment. In Alphaville, Godard, with his continuous technological present tense, critiques the cult of the new with the event of Natasha's soliloquy. This is the sublime question, the task of the film.


5.0 Limit of the human, thought according to the absolute.

In the Postmodern Condition (1984), Lyotard posits a game between science and chance. Dice, he notes, are compatible with the calculation of system probabilities (dice were used in the construction of this essay). Bridge requires cunning, and is not computable. It is Caution's cunning -- his obscure riddle ("Something which never changes, day or night"), his allusion to power, perhaps or to the eternal -- which preoccupies Alpha 60's circuits to the extent that Caution can escape and hunt down Professor Vonbraun. Lyotard asserts that perfect control is a system weakness. Alpha 60, the limit and logical end of the human, is thus acutely vulnerable.

Lyotard conjectures that with the hegemony of computers comes a certain kind of logic, a certain language. Much of the discourse of Alpha 60 is bricolage Jorge Luis Borges, taken from his essay A New Refutation of Time. The opening pronouncement is an extract from Borges' Form of a Legend[3]. A new theme emerges in the state analogy, the power of (here, formalist) literature against the subversive potential of (surrealist) poetry. Borges' words lend Alpha 60 a pathos, notably in the voice-overs to the scenes of self-destruction. The sublime is not lost on this artificial intellect, who suffers terror at the irreversibility of time, joy and wrenching pain at the condition of being time:
    Alpha 60: The present is terrifying...because it is irreversible...and because it has a will of iron... Time is the substance of which I am made. [Caution searches interrogation rooms as men stumble down the hall. A woman stands motionless against a wall] Time is a river which carries me along. But I am time. It is a tiger, tearing me apart; but I am the tiger [...] It is our misfortune that the world is reality. And I...it is my misfortune that I am myself, Alpha 60.
Earlier in the film, during the lecture, Alpha 60 discourses on solitude ("We are alone here. We are unique, dreadfully unique"). One feels this is the use of the royal plural: Alpha 60 is talking about himself. In the essay "Can Thought Exist Without a Body", Lyotard raises such a spectre, of a computer intelligence surviving the extinction of humanity, programmed to suffer as a human suffers, and (the reader here assumed) who is dreadfully alone. One might infer too that the legend referred to in the film's opening statement is Alpha 60, not Caution. Technocratic processes in our own society are too numerous and too pervasive to be done any justice by empirical analysis. Yet science fiction is preoccupied with such scenarios.

Cheekily, one might invoke Proust. Lyotard suggests (1984, p80) that Proust alludes to the unpresentable, what is elided is "the identity of consciousness, a victim to the excess of time". An assertion that aptly fits the condition of citizens of Alphaville. A Nietzschean subtext is manifest as the death of man is postponed and Natasha forgets the word 'love'.

"To speak is to fight, in the sense of playing, and speech acts fall within the domain of a general agonistics" (ibid, p 10). Thus Lyotard characterises his understanding of the term 'language game', or genre of discourse. Language games are incommensurable (for example, in the film, logic is confronted with incompatibility, variations on singularity and subvention of two-value orientation, which undermine it), yet an observable social bond is composed of such moves in a conversation which obeys the rules of the genre. For Lyotard, "knowledge of language games as such and the decision to assume responsibility for their rules and effects" (ibid, 66) is another goal within the system. The most significant effect of language games "is precisely what validates the adoption of rules -- the quest for paralogy" (ibid) or illogical reasoning. Alpha 60 synthesises poetry in case it come in useful for later on, that is, for system performance. Caution has to destroy Alpha 60 or find himself, and his linguistic strategies, caught within its totalising plan. One must not forget the bureaucratisation of the statement, the prohibition of phrases (associative and conceptual engineering) and privileged classes of statement (e.g. the phatic repetition) that characterises Alpha 60s technique of rule.

Alpha 60 deals in denotative statements, and thus proves his scientific status. This is counterposed to the 'truth' of Lemmy Caution's narration.
    Scientific knowledge requires that one language game, denotation, be retained and all others excluded [...] In this context, one is 'learned' if one can produce a true statement about a referent, and one is a scientist if one can produce verifiable or falsifiable statements about referents accessible to the experts [...] It is therefore impossible to judge the existence or validity of narrative knowledge on the basis of scientific knowledge and vice versa. The relevant criteria are different. [...] Lamenting the 'loss of meaning' in postmodernity boils down to mourning the fact that knowledge is no longer principally narrative (ibid, pp25-26).
Thus "science desires its statements to be true, but does not have the resources to legitimate the truth on its own" (ibid 28).

Technocractic anxiety was a prominent theme in French science fiction after World War II. Bradford Lyau points to the Fleuve Noir 'Anticipation' novels, written between 1951 and 1960. Of the "eleven French authors who wrote books for this series, only two offer visions wholeheartedly approving of technocracy", he says (Science Fiction Studies, #49). Those that oppose such a system question technocratic priorities and the knowledge of a scientific elite, point to the revalorisation of religious belief, challenge the philosophical basis of technocracy, and highlight the pervasive inequality of technocratic societies, and the annihilation of individualism. George Slusser comments on the French magazine Fiction (six editions after 1953) which published "a literature that explore[d] alternate and parallel, rather than other, worlds; a literature that turn[ed] away from expansive paradigms to explore the inner world of the imagining organ -- the rational mind itself [...] [T]his SF is Cartesian and surrealist in nature. Which means that it seeks a logical cultivation of dream worlds. And should do so in hopes of preserving the privilege of the cogito in relation to a material universe otherwise defined by Pascal's two infinities" (ibid). Godard's vision remains true to this conception. I think, indicate both Alpha 60 and Caution, therefore, I am. That Godard applies such a truism to both man and machine at the same time throws such a conception into doubt.

Project Mimique. February 2009.


Footnotes
1. Delineation of the Inhuman, a homology developed by Jean- Francois Lyotard, is taken from James Williams' book, Lyotard and the Political, pp126-132.
2. Jean Baudrillard on Philip K. Dick's Simulacra.
3. Source: Wikipedia


Bibliography
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Barthes, R. (1978) A Lover's Discourse (London) Vintage
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Cirlot, J.E. (1962) A Dictionary of Symbols (London) Routledge
Darke, C. (2005) Alphaville (London) I.B. Tauris
Eluard, P. (1985) Capitale de la Douleur (Oxford) Blackwell
Godard, J-L. (1965) Alphaville (transcript from video tape) www.lafn.org/~cymbala/alphavil.html
Hawkes, T. (1977) Structuralism and Semiotics (London) Methuen
Heath, S. (1978) 'Difference', in Screen, 19 3:51-112
Leech, G. (1974/1981) Semantics (London) Penguin
Lefebvre, H. (1991) The Production of Space (Oxford) Blackwell
Lyotard, J.F. (1984) The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge (Manchester) MUP
------- (1991) The Inhuman (Cambridge) Polity
Science Fiction Studies #49, 16 3, November 1989 (abstract) www.depauw.edu/SFs/abstracts/a49.htm
Sim, S. (2001) Lyotard and the Inhuman (Duxford) Icon
Tafuri, M. & F. Dal Co (1976) Modern Architecture/2 (London) Faber & Faber
Williams, J. (2000) Lyotard and the Political (Abingdon) Routledge

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