Recent
trends towards a post-humanist discourse in critical theory have complicated
many of our long established binaries (human/machine, human/animal, etc.). In
his short essay film La Jetee, Chris Marker deconstructs a similar binary that
undergirds post-humanism: life/non-life. Through a series of still shots that
intersperse a variety of figures (humans, statues, stuffed animals, unconscious
men) La Jetee blurs the boundaries between what constitutes an acting, living
subject and a lifeless, perceived object.
After the young boy witnesses his future death at the
airport, the story shifts to post-war future where the destruction of human
society is reflected by its ruined remains and “the victors stood guard over a
kingdom of rats.” In this first scene of human experimentation, Marker
juxtaposes images of calm and staid experimenters (victors) with the pained
expressions of blindfolded men connected to a series of wires (rats). As the
narrator notes, the results of these experiments were “disappointment for some,
death for others, and for others, madness.”
Following this introduction to the experiment, Marker gives
the viewer a series of images of statues interspersed with shots of a frightened
man. The first statue looks to be a small child or cherub of some sort with her
arm around a swan. The statue is old and discolored and seems to be placed
alongside piles of rubbish. After switching back to a brief still of the “mad
man,” Marker shifts again to a figure that appears to be nothing more than an
old concrete block with a couple of holes in the front of it.
Although the viewer is not likely to mistake this figure for
one of the humans in the film, there is a certain resemblance to life-like
forms that is difficult to ignore considering that the shots leading up to and
surrounding this one are primarily images of the human face. The slab has two
holes in the front which almost makes it resemble the nostrils of a swine due
to the large area that they cover. Underneath these two holes there is a thin,
wavy crack that runs across the bottom portion of the figure. The placement of
this image is so powerful due to its ability to convey a sense of human-ness
based off of nothing more than a few insignificant markings on a chunk of old
stone.
Through the very form of the
essay film, Marker is able to collapse a seemingly sturdy barrier between
perceptions of life/non-life. In so doing, Marker is not so much restoring
agency to the material objects that act upon human subjects, but rather
revealing the ways in which non-human “objects” have always acted upon
supposedly autonomous subjects. The mad man, as he stares at the similarly
immobilized figure, identifies (perhaps for the first time) with what it means
to be “objectified” and experimented on.
Interestingly, as the film shifts into the time travel/dream
space, this collapsed distinction between subject/object seems to rebuild as
the man desires a time in which he identifies with the life he sees in the
woman. Marker alludes to this idea by making his only live sequence in the film
a short moment of the woman in a bed. In this environment, for which the man
can only desire, there resides the potential for the creation of life.
For the the man's captors, this moment is vital. It works to
solidify the link that they wish to create between dream and reality by
co-opting the man’s ability to connect desire and reality, or life and
non-life.



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