On the Mechanical Reproducibility of Film and Web Pages

Walter Benjamin's essay "about the developmental tendencies of art under present conditions of production," [p. 849] is a fundamental exploration of the changes which art undergoes when it becomes mechanically reproducible. Though the article numbers a mere 22 pages, it delves in to so many issues that volumes could be spent in analysis. Unfortunately, many people dismiss Benjamin's work because certain aspects of his writings are problematic. Also, because he wrote in the period between the advent of sound film and the advent of color, many of Benjamin's ideas need to be updated to allow for modern advances such as video tape technology and techniques such as film restoration. But with careful examination and a rethinking in terms of contemporary examples, we can find many truths in Benjamin's essay, and locate what ideas no longer stand as true.

The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction¹ focuses on the destruction of aura in art. According to Benjamin, aura is that quality which makes an art object unique. "This unique existence of the work of art determined the history to which it was subject thought the time of its existence." [p. 851] Additionally, the history to which it was subjected determined the unique existence of the work of art. The reproducibility of such an object destroys the aura and potential for a history thus rendering the art object accessible to the masses. As such, Benjamin sees this quality of mechanical reproduction as favorable.

Benjamin asserts that photographs are beneficial because they destroy aura. "From a photographic negative, for example, one can make any number of prints; to ask for the 'authentic print' makes no sense." [pp. 854-855] The negative is a source of sorts but is not an original in that it is not a photograph, but rather the blueprint for making one. Because the photograph is a simulacra -- a copy without an original -- Benjamin contends that there is no inherent history associated with one specific photograph, as there would be with a painting. "Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be." [p. 851] Clearly there are exceptions to such a claim. A specific photograph can have a personal history; one print of a family photograph might have special significance because it was bent by years of being carried in a relative's pocket. But Benjamin focuses on societal significance, and thus such discussions of personal history are not applicable to counter his arguments.

Whereas the negative can be thought of as the source of the photograph, the source of film is more fragmented because it must include the negative, the screenplay, the actors, the crew, etc. Likewise, the aura of a print of film can be located in more than one place. What makes film as a medium problematic (though not for Benjamin) is the creation of aura through projection, rather than aura located simply in the physical object. This phenomenon is similar to that of the Jewish Torah, in which the aura is created in the ritual of reading in addition to existing in the object. "It is significant that the existence of the work of art with reference to its aura is never entirely separated from its ritual function." [p. 854] And as in the case of the Thorah, "Today the cult value would seem to demand that the work of art remain hidden." [p. 855] While a photograph can arguably have an aura (as in the case of a personal history), reels of film are of little value unless they are projected (though seemingly an old film print, such as a nitrate print, has a certain aura even when it is not being projected). A distinction must be made here between a personal history of a specific reproduction and the societal history of the artwork as a whole. Although a specific print of the film Titanic (1997) has a history, from the worker who loaded the platter out of the truck to the projectionist who accidentally scratched it loading it into the projector, such occurrences do not give an indelible history to the film Titanic. Yet the bestowing of an Academy Award gives the film a societal history which Benjamin entirely discounts. Benjamin is not interested in film as a phenomenon, but rather the film print as one of many art objects. The deliberate reproduction and distribution of film prints illustrates Benjamin's notion that "...the work of art reproduced becomes the work of art designed for reproducibility." [p. 854] Film is made to be seen by as many as possible and the advent of distribution by video tape, Laserdisc, and DVD, as well as on TV, only confounds the issue.

As is true of photography, an early film print can seem to be more authentic than a reconstructed print. However, using Benjamin's ideas, "The presence of the original is the prerequisite to the concept of authenticity." [p. 851] Nonetheless, now that the art of film has experienced its centennial birthday, early films, of which only one copy and version remain, can be said to have obtained some authenticity. The patina lies in the lack of other with which to contest the autonomy of one version. Another contemporary problem lies in versions of a film. We now have the conflict between, for example, the director's cut of a film and the studio release. Perhaps the conflict arising out of the struggle to locate the "real" Metropolis (1926) (see Metropolis version page) serves to strengthen Benjamin's notion that there is no authentic film.

Benjamin's essay also focuses on the notion that authenticity is entangled with the "ritual function" of art.

It is significant that the existence of the work of art with reference to its aura is never entirely separated from its ritual function. In other words, the unique value of the "authentic" work of art has its basis in ritual, the location of its original use value. [p. 854]

It is here that Benjamin's argument truly falls short, for his assertion that "...mechanical reproduction emancipates the work of art from its parasitic dependence on ritual," [p. 854] simply is not so. Films have their own form of ritual involving the dark dream-like state of the theater, popcorn, and surround sound. The advent of the home theater, although allowing the spectator to stay within their home, still requires the purchase of specialized equipment (video/DVD/Laserdisc player and a stereo through which to wire the surround sound) and has its own rituals involved (such as the juggle of five remote controls and the same dark conditions as a theater). The "use value" of a film, as with a photograph, is generally for mass consumption (with exceptions including avant-garde work and home movies). Unfortunately, Benjamin completely ignores the ritual of seeing films in theaters, even though that was the only way to see films at the time when he was viewing them.

Benjamin's concepts of aura, history, value, and ritual all require careful examination to locate his intended meaning, and how such meaning must be reshaped to allow for changes in current society. Benjamin offers a great deal of useful analysis of the function of art in our society and how that function changed with the arrival of mechanically reproducible art forms. Now that our society is in the age of digital reproduction, it would be fascinating to try to tackle the forms of digital art and film and discover what Benjamin would say about the world wide web.

^* pg. 298
The Art of the Moving Picture
by Vachel Lindsay
New York: Liveright (1915/1922)

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