Benjamin on Film

            The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction addresses how the ever-increasing technology is altering the work of art. Benjamin is talking in particular about photography and prints. He begins by saying that “the work of art has always been reproducible.” All great classical artists learned by example, through copying the masters. The creation of even the most perfect copy in the classical tradition still only held the subordinate status of a replica. This is because art is grounded in tradition. The original piece held precedence, and thus authority. No technically perfect reproduction could match it, because it cannot hold the same place within tradition. As Benjamin says, “Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element, its presence in time and space.” The context of the work of art is inseparable from its being. Its place in history, its particular context, is the aura of a work of art.

            Benjamin says, “that which withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art.” Because art in this age can be reproduced perfectly from the same source every time, for example a film negative, there is no ‘original’ work of art. Instead there are many originals, each of them a reproduction. As reproductions, they cannot claim a specific historical context, and thus are robbed of their aura. In a way, mechanically produced art seeks to extract itself from tradition, and refuse any historical roots. But it is the historicity of a work that grounds it, and allows it to transcend its time.

            Just as art of the mechanical age strives to transcend its specific historical context, so it tries to break down dependence upon the audience. He talks in particular about the prominence of film. Even as mechanization makes reproduction simple, and thus greatly widens the potential audience, it places a barrier between the artist and the audience. For example, “the film actor lacks the opportunity of the stage actor to adjust to the audience” (437).  The film actor does not have any relation to the audience, his relationship is with the camera. Thus, “The audience’s identification with the actor is really an identification with the camera” (437). Benjamin elaborates on the effects of technology on theater. The film star’s audience to whom “he offers not only his labour but also his whole self, his heart and soul, is beyond his reach” (438). The audience is vast and inaccessible.

            Benjamin says that a “man who concentrates before a work of art is absorbed by it” (442). According to him, it is impossible to be absorbed by film because the camera comes between the actor and the audience. The viewer has absolutely no involvement in a film, nothing about their experience allows for participation or individual interpretation. Each frame appears more quickly than the viewer can absorb it. There is no chance for reflection in absorbing a film.

            Benjamin argues that the mechanization of our world has destroyed painting as an art form. Painting is meant for viewing by an individual or a few people at a time. Confronting a painting creates a conversation between the viewer and the artist. Painting, however is historically dependent, and cannot appeal to the masses, because it is primarily an individual experience. “Painting simply is in no position to present an object for simultaneous collective viewing” (440). And yet, in the age of mechanical reproduction, we want and expect paintings, which often take their significance from their uniqueness, to be reproduced en masse and distributed to the masses. Film has placed unrealistic expectations on painting.

            In the past, art accessible and meant for the masses, architecture and the epic poem, invited interaction. Architecture is fundamentally an interactive experience, buildings are tailored to the needs of their inhabitants and architecture occupies both the eye and the feet. A building absorbs the viewer in a literal sense. Epic poetry was designed specifically for its mass audience and its recitation, like any form of good storytelling, always responded to the response of the audience. Today, film is in a position to appeal to the masses, but interaction with film is impossible, creating an ultimately unsatisfying experience. Mechanization has ruined our ability to truly appreciate painting, and has been unable to replace it.

            Mechanization has formed a wall between audience and artist. In completely accurate reproduction, it is impossible for the artist to effectively exert his viewpoint and makes conversation with the viewer difficult. Even as the camera causes a separation of communication, it is also blending the line between viewer and artist. “Any man today can lay claim to being filmed,” photographed, or written about (think about blogging), which cheapens these mediums. Art today is overly accessible. We consume it at a voracious pace, but we are never sated.

            Benjamin argues that the mechanization of art has caused a fundamental shift in how art is made and consumed. Much of what he says about film and the overabundance of aspiring art and artists rings true. However, I am not sure I agree with his value judgments. I do not agree that film cannot be art in the same way painting can. In my experience, a film can absorb the viewer, and although it is true that it is presented in a set perspective and moves at a rate that does not allow for reflection, I think that these two, working in tandem, force the viewer to adopt a unique perspective of the film. In fact, it is impossible for the viewer not to view a film from an individual perspective, he is bringing to the viewing all of his past experience, that different parts of films resonate with different people is evidence of this.