Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

Why is the Rotwang’s Robot gendered feminine?

This may be tricky question. First, there is the possibility that originally the Robot is not gendered at all, that is, how it is seen in its unskinned form. And then it is later gendered feminine simply because it takes the form of Maria, who is a woman. Better to forget the ‘male gaze’ and all that nonsense. I do actually think the Robot was originally intended to be feminine, even though besides having either large pecs or small breasts, the rest of the form is gender indeterminate. Rotwang it seems had an affair with Freder’s mother, and after her death he was lugubrious and lonely. So the Robot took a vague feminine form as determined by the absence of a woman he once cared for. Damn, someone should tell Huyssen that men cry too.

The android Hadaly of Tomorrow’s Eve and the android Maria of Metropolis, well kids, let’s just say it’s like the Good Witch of the East and the Wicked Witch of the West. Except with more irony. The Wizard of Oz was a bit short on that, though maybe because it was primarily a children's movie and if there’s anything parents are more reluctant to expose their children to than any kind of sexual behavior it’s irony. Irony is disruptive; it leads to sarcasm and also some of the more sophistacated kinds of teenage rebellion. Anyhow, Villiers put mouthfulls of irony in Edison; his diatribes on Hadaly’s advantages were gems (in paragraph form) of trenchant blindness. Lang’s approach to the android Maria was a bit more direct, a bit more openly suspicious of the technology that can mimic and improve upon human existence. With Villiers, I don’t know, I get the sense that as he wrote Edison’s ironic dialog there was no insignificant part of him that really felt that the inventor was both sincere and wise. I mean that Villiers’ Edison was simultaneously sordidly, obliviously ironic and also a genuine humanist and visionary; and that Hadaly is both a ominous and subtle literary mirror and also an inspiring apparition of human Progess. In the end, I feel Lang’s android Maria was an unambiguous tool for plot development and cultural critique, while Hadaly was a mysterious form that evokes in me commensurately mysterious reactions.

Feminist Film Art of the 70’s :

Is feminism a political movement – Is it a movement – Does it move – What does it move – Who does feminism move – Am I to be moved – Moved from what to what – Who is moved by anything political anyway – (You should ask yourself how you contribute to patriarchy) – Well then am I moved by art – {art?} – Feminist art might then move me – <I’m ripping out my patriarchy in pieces> –Yet how am I not moved by any of these five feminist films – {move?} – As follows :

<!--[if !supportLists]-->· <!--[endif]-->Vertical Roll. Jonas’ film is what? Twenty minutes of noise and flicker? Avant-garde experimentation? A joke at the viewers expens(e)<ive>? Deliciously audacious and disturbingly hypnotic?

Here’s the square : her film is not in the least feminist (and I don’t even have the slightest idea what “feminist” determines). It is feminine only in that a female body is the single object throughout. It is experimental film art, untainted by some message or agenda. Who deemed this film “feminist”? I doubt Jonas did, unless she was greatly confused.

It was nearly empty, being another drizzling Monday night. I liked his looks, the shape of his face, the tiredness in his eyes, his quietness. I found, inevitably, an opportunity to speak to him. I mentioned that I hadn't seen him before and that on a drizzling Monday night mostly just regulars come by.

"I'm from out of town." he said, slightly defensive, or maybe his voice only sounded that way. He looked quite tired, that's for sure.

"What on earth could you be doing here in Fairborn? There's hardly anything here." I said.

"Oh? I haven't looked really. I got here today and I'm leaving early tomorrow."

"On some kind of business?" I asked, very interested now, because there is no business in Fairborn.

Perhaps he saw my question as suspicion. He shifted his body back towards the bar, starring at the bottles lining the wall.

He must've worked hard to look so tired, but I couldn't imagine what work he could find for one day around here.

After a few minutes he turned abruptly back towards me. "I'll tell you, because I'm about to leave and I know you're curious. Although it's all very boring to me. Except on rare occasions."

I didn't say anything.

"I'm a census taker. From Centerville. That's why I'm here."

"Hmm." is all I said.

What is this space?

Full of objects physical, stacked and organized, rows and aisles, labeled, branded; a system of order. A temporary affront to entropy. Also a transient victory over chaos. Thus a place of interest, of necessary observation, examination, analysis, synthesis, legend, myth, worship, and perhaps conquest.

Has chance or intent created this arrangement of matter in space? See here the fluid, fluidious creature putting this here and that there. A staggered stack, straightened; a misplaced piece, reset; a fallen object, resurrected. Only consciousness is so audacious as to impose order upon a universe where the relentless destruction of order is immutable law.

Movement of these (presumed) conscious creatures : grabbing and nabbing and picking and touching these objects in rows and aisles. Sometimes taking, keeping, holding some piece against their body. Then a trade, an exchange, green paper or many-colored plastic. And a machine that eats these. And a creature that tames the machine that eats these. The plastic is regurgitated. Something has been gained and something has been lost. But what? The audacity of imposed order is inevitably coupled with the expectancy of purpose. What is this purpose?