The Intertwining of Memory and History in Alexander Kluge
The Intertwining of Memory and History in Alexander Kluge
The Intertwining of Memory and History in Alexander Kluge
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I. Introduction
O bliss of the collector, bliss of the man of leisure! . . . For inside him there are
spirits, or at least little genii, which have seen to it that for a collectorand I mean
a real collector, a collector as he ought to beownership is the most intimate relationship that one can have to objects. Not that they come alive in him; it is he who
lives in them. So I have erected one of his dwellings, with books as the building
stones, before you, and now he is going to disappear inside, as is only fitting.1
For Walter Benjamin, housing a collection does not bring archived objects to life.
Instead it is the collector who comes alive inside the archive, where he is destined to
disappear, like the legendary Chinese painter who disappears inside his painting.2
Something similar might be said of Alexander Kluge, a remarkably erudite filmmaker,
whose works in literature, film, politics, culture, and pedagogy can be characterized
as archives. Obsolescent and archival objects have a distinct place in Kluges
images: the iron constructions, factory buildings, early photos, objects that have
become extinct, early dresses, old film-footage, old restaurants, interiors of enslaved
and enslaving objects. His films, in Peter Lutzs opinion, are structured almost like
an anthology: a grouping of shorter, more autonomous segments of documentary and
fictional material (77).
In Germany, Kluge is regarded both as a major filmmaker and as a major social
theorist in the tradition of the Frankfurt School. His films centre upon the question
of memory and history. For Kluge, the memory of any given situation is multiform,
and the situation in space and time of its many forms is the result of perspectives in
the present. To put this in another way, memory has a history, or, more precisely,
histories. This does not mean that the relationship between history and memory is,
or should be, balanced or stable. In Kluges work, the tension or outright conflict
between history and memory is both necessary and productive. Thus my emphasis
with regard to Kluges films is to locate a break in the ancient bond of identity, a break
in the equilibrium of memory and history. The basis of Kluges critical formulation
of what is lacking in German history is the intertwining of memory with history,
archive, documentary, and fiction and its subsequent regression to the problem of
identity. This lack must be thought of in terms of what it is to have a positive identity
of the German people.
I hope to establish the critical significance of experience (Erfahrung) in Kluges
filmography. Kluges critical project refuses to identify the cause of German history,
and in fact Kluge opposes a linear model of historiography that presents contemporary
history as a relation to the past, preferring instead a model of history as a collective
experience that has been handed down through the generations by traditional means.
Like Benjamin, Kluge prefers the storyteller to the chronicler. Nevertheless, it
remains an open question whether he succeeds in rupturing the fatal consequences of
Germanys traumatic history by redefining memorys relation to its own history.
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But the similarities between the New German and new French Cinemas should
not be overstressed. The French politiques des auteurs developed along a very different
line and called for an appreciation of visual properties and formal beauties.
Auteurists like Andrew Sarris would look at a film as the expression of a directors
vision and an auteur-structuralist like Peter Wollen preferred to decipher, not a
coherent message or world-view, but a structure which underlines the film and
shapes it, while the Cahiers approach was concerned with the distinctiveness and
instant recognizability of individual works ( Johnston, 70).For Kluge, in contrast,
the politics of spectatorship, and the experience of the spectator, play a vital role.
In On Film and Public Sphere, Kluge declares: For the auteur there is no way back
to ready-made film (Konfektionfilm). Nor can auteur cinema remain in its present
state. . . . Cinema is a program that is a relationship of productionif for no other
reason than that this relationship exists in the experiences of the spectators which
constantly recreate the cinemas experimental horizon (1981/82, 207). The spectator
is a conscious entrepreneur, whose experience has a role constituting the alternative
Autoren film that is equal to the alternative politics and economics of the films
production. The general cinema lacks historical depth and excludes the spectator,
who has been subjugated to the conceptual imperialism of Hollywood objects, from
the role of conscious entrepreneur. For Kluge, the real cinema takes shape in the
viewers head, and the viewers imagination animates the screen with his own
experience. In other words, Autor cinema mediates between the formal structure of
the experience of its producer (in terms of the historical reality of the production
process), and the imagination of the spectator, whose reception depends on his
expectations and experience. Autor cinema no longer aims at distorting or colonizing
the experience of the spectator, which the Hollywood imperialistic films have done
so far.4 The Autoren stressed the primacy of thematic originality, the film as the vector
of ideas ( Johnston, 71). Most of the new German filmmakers contend that Hollywood
films try to persuade the audience to give up their own experience and follow the
more organized experience of the film.5 In Kluges words, If the film is active, the
spectator becomes passive (Dawson, 54).
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For Benjamin experience has fallen in value, and so has the art of storytelling.7
Likewise, in Kluges films, we find the foregrounding of the social function of the
storyteller. History appears as a collection of folk and fairy tales that itself reframes
the original genre. That is, with time, history itself must become a fairy tale, becoming
once again what it was in the beginning.8 How does one explore the possibility of
reading Kluges ongoing interventionist politics within contemporary Germany as a
politics for finding new raw material for re-writing the otherwise disastrous history
of Germany? For Kluge, cinema forms the connection (Zusammenhang) between
memory and history, because his films can be viewed as a type of historiography that
offers multiple testimonies rather than a single story or the univocal authority of
history itself.
Kluge endorses (though only to a certain degree) Adornos mistrust of visual
immediacy (I love to go to the movies; the only thing that bothers me is the image
on the screen9) when he stresses the function of montage as a morphology of
relations that exists in the experience of the spectator for more-than-ten-thousandyears, to which the invention of film-strip, projector and screen only provided a
technological response (Kluge, 1981/82, 209). This also explains the particular
proximity of film to the spectator and its affinity to experience. The radical practice
of montage, juxtaposing the heterogeneous elements of the cinematic material,
translating their inherently antithetical character into expression, thus raises them to
the level of consciousness, in Adornos and Eislers words, and takes over the function
of theory.10 Indeed, montage is a defining characteristic of Kluges films, serving to
negate the affirmative appeal of the image as natural and opposing a superficial
realism with a radical naturalism. Adorno had commented in Minima Moralia that
Performance, Counter-Cinema:
A Study of Die Patriotin, (12).
if the film were to give itself up to the blind representation of everyday life, following
the precepts of, say Zola, as would indeed be practicable with moving photography
Ulmer Dramaturgien:
Reibungsverluste (48). Adorno
and sound recording, the result would be a construction alien to the visual habits
technique of film lends itself, would dissolve all surface coherence of meaning and
finish up as the antithesis of familiar realism. The film would turn into associative
stream of images, deriving its form from their pure, immanent construction.
Kluges montage achieves this negation through polyphonic sequences, the interweaving of the archival or documentary and the fictional, the use of commentary
and titles, the avoidance of narrative continuity, the use of the camera as an analytical
device, and the reliance on association as a vehicle of meaning (Fiedler, 203).
For Kluge, the structural affinity between film and the stream of consciousness
establishes a utopian tradition of cinema in peoples minds, which is reminiscent
of Benjamins assertion that the artistic function of film is to make visible the
equipment-free aspect of reality.11 Adornos contention that cinema, the technological medium par excellence, is thus intimately related to the beauty of nature,
(Adorno, 1981/82, 209) seems to echo Benjamins ironic vision of film as the blue
flower in the land of technology.
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After Hitlers screaming speech, which ends with the words, ganzliche ausbau
(gigantic construction), we are witness to a flurry of a montage sequence: A series of
swish pans (reminiscent of Orson Welless Citizen Kane) reveal structures of the
monument from the right and then from the left. They are then joined by a shot from
the center. The theme of left, right, and center is visually established in a rhythmic
pattern of montage as thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. The visual rhythmic pattern
of presenting the monument in its present decay provides a counterpoint to the
sound of Hitlers speech and the thunderous applause of his followers at the rally.
We are then introduced to a heterogeneous collection of shots of the monuments:
long shots of ravaged walls, grounds, corridors, and columns (six shots) over the
non-diegetic music. Kluges voice again informs the spectator: Thunderous applause
erupted after the Fhrers speech. The rally closed with a symphony of Brahms.14
The commentary continues as the camera keeps tracking on the stairs in a close up
that reveals the ruins of the once majestic steps: And Alfred Rosenberg spoke the
closing words. Three programmatic dissolves of the tracking shots of the steps
dissolves from left to right and right to left, joined by another dissolve in which the
steps appear in the center of the frameconstitute the central thematic of the film.
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The voice is heard again, again the primacy of memory given to the presence of
the absent, the dead themselves. We hear Hitlers voice, Sieg Heil; the crowd
responding: Sieg Heill; thunderous applause. The camera slowly tilts up to reveal
a large door on top of the steps. It slowly starts to zoom-in to the large closed door,
and then a brilliant dissolve from a low angle shot of the long corridor whose dark
ceilings match the dark closed doors. With the dissolve the camera tracks through the
corridor, and for the first time, through the commentary an excerpt from the memoirs
of the Commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Hss, is introduced: The first transports,
all due for extermination, arrived in spring, 1942. At first they went quietly into the
chambers where they were to be disinfected. Then some became suspicious and
spoke of exterminating. The immediate result was panic. The others quickly herded
into chambers and doors were bolted. The image here is of the camera tracking
through the corridor and arriving at a closed door as the words and the doors were
bolted are heard. The image appears to be a reversal of the closed door that we
initially saw from the outside: Sieg Heil; and now we get an inside perspective in
the form of a memoir through a voice, on behalf of Rudolf Hss, providing us with
an inner track.
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V. Die Patriotin
Earlier, in a shot of Teichert putting on make-up in front of a mirror, Kluges warm
and gentle voice informs us in intimate terms about the dilemmas she faces as a
historian and as an amateur archaeologist.17 He tells us that Gabi Teichert was sure
that the raw materials for history on the advanced level were difficult. Its hard to
present German history in a patriotic version (Kluge, 1978, 59).
Teichert is described by Kluge as a patriot. She, he tells in his auteurial voice,18
takes an interest in all of Germanys dead. Because no one is simply dead, when
he dies.19 Kluge here evokes his memorial address to Heiner Mller at his funeral in
1996: It is an error, that the Dead are Dead (Kluge, 1998a, 511). He quotes Mller
at his funeral for wishing for an impossible funeral, for an impossible mourning, but
also for laughing with a Dadaist glee at the complete chaos, the absurdity, as in Felix
Guattaris funeral at the Pre-Lachaise cemetry in Paris, as in a Buster Keaton movie:
All successful funerals must fail (1998a, 6). We are reminded also of a Corporal
Wieland, who fell north of Stalingrad on January 28, 1943, and of his rambling
knee, heard over a painting of trees and three owls perched on them.20 We find
ourselves fervently berated by the protesting knee. Speaking antagonistically, it
admonishes us, though in a gentle voice: You just cant write us off: the wishes, legs,
joints, ribs, skins, and if only I remain the knee, then I have to talk. I must talk, talk,
talk, even if my life is unusual, as part of an entire man, who is a part of a people, that
is part of history, of animals, nature, gardens, trees, etc., etc. Get used to it: I am the
one who is speaking here. I have a right to; I demand nothing. Neither that you believe
me, nor that what I say make sense. But I must speak. If some one has a right, he
doesnt demand it. He fights for it (Kluge, 1978, 55).
It was in Geschichte und Eigensinn that Kluge, and Oskar Negt first developed the
idea of the relationship of the body with the notion of identity. The body is seen as
concretely as that through which all human experience is filtered, processed, and
pursued; it is at once personal and social. Never privy to a fixed, permanent identity,
it can some times be the battleground for the conflicting social antagonisms
(Adelson, 61). The fragmented identity of the knee is mediated through the body politic
of wishes, legs, joints, ribs, skin, and thus the body is introduced to the discourse
of nature and history, or more specifically, in Adornos sense, to the discourse of
natural history, that is, to nonidentity. It also removes the question of identity from
the ontological premise of the nature of history or vice-versa. The knee performs, via
its soliloquy, a self-acknowledgement of speaking neither from a fixed determination
of being, that is, from the centre of the subject (neither that you believe me) nor
from a position of meaning, of coherence and articulation (nor that what I say make
sense). As a German knee I am naturally interested, above all, in German History:
kings, peasants, flowers, trees, farms, meadows, plants. . . . I must clear up at once a
fundamental error: that we dead are just dead. Were full of protest and energy.
We march through history and examine it. How can we escape history? History which
will kill us all?
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Confusion is a state, a tactical state, a state of distraction that both Benjamin and
Kracauer privileged over the sedate bourgeois model of spectatorship, that not only
represents the characters in Kluges films and writings, but also often accompanies the
audiences who too are found bewildered and discombobulated after the screenings of
his films.21 According to Johnston, it was reported in Stern that Kluge and many
of the others admitted that he and his colleagues had often produced Autor films for
the museum and had neglected the cinema at the corner of the street (78). It appears,
in all probability, that Kluge took the high road, consistent with his high modernist
stance, of steering clear of the masses rather lugubrious taste (I dont pay attention
to target audiences and therefore I often hear that I am a ratings killer, somebody
who fundamentally doesnt care whether one person is watching or an entire soccer
stadium, he proclaimed in a recent interview [1998b]). In Kluges defense, one can
most certainly argue that for the theorist it is better to be confused than to be cocksure
in the matters of cultural and historical discourse. But before we ascribe to Kluge
incoherence, disjunction and fragmentation as elements of a full-fledged postmodern
aesthetic practice, we need to explore further the dialectical nature of Kluges work,
and ask whether his practice can really be considered compatible with the canonical
tenets of postmodernism.
Gabi Teicherts utopian quest for a patriotic version of German history beyond
textbooks and centralized curricula is the core fiction around which Kluge
arranges the heterogeneous materials he transmits to his viewers. Schematically
drawn, the figure of Gabi Teichert allows Kluge to move freely between present
and past, between real and symbolic settings. . . . Introduced via poet Christian
Morgensterns antiwar gallows song Das Knie, the macabre fiction of Corporal
Wielands disembodied knee speaking for the dead of the Reich with a sense of
humorous desperation raises concerns central to the film and Kluges conception of
history: the physical and emotional reality of individual human beings both as
the victims of history and as potential subjects, the contingent nature of historical
developments, and the persistence of unfulfilled wishes as well as destructive
traditions in a given culture. (Fiedler, 222223)
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Kluges point is that German history is itself even more destructive, chaotic and
dangerous than anything he could ever put into a film. As Andrew Bowie puts it,
the potential connections that can be made between even the most apparently
unconnected aspects of the really disastrous history of Germany might turn out to
make a lot more sense than the unifying images which still dominate the discourse
of most historians. This approach, which has its roots in aspects of Walter Benjamins
philosophy of history can be seen on all levels of Kluges work. (Bowie, 113) As a
matter of fact, Kluges concern with Benjamins Jetztzeit recurs in most of his works
through the images of air raids. The frequency with which air raid imagery occurs in
Kluges literary and filmic work is due to the fact that he was himself nearly a victim
of raids on his home town Halberstadt.25 Though this trauma is never personalized
in either his films or his theoretical writings, its impact on his reasoning is mediated
through various subjective factors. On the occasion of the award of the Fontane
Prize for literature, which Kluge received in 1979, he addressed the problem in his
speech as follows:
Fontane . . . didnt know the bombing raids that many Berliners can still feel in
their bones. In that situation, if one puts it graphically, there are always two strategiesa strategy from above and a strategy from below. Clausewitz wrote a certain
amount about strategy from above, which is the strategy the bomber command
has, and the bomber command has got the means for it as well. Strategy from
below would be what the woman with two children down in a cellar could do to
oppose the bombing. We must make it clear to ourselves that, if this relationship
of person/bomb in the emergency is the model of how our modern world intends
to deal with people and if we dont want to deceive ourselves in times of peace
or apparent peace about the fact that this is precisely the point of the emergency,
then we must ask ourselves whether there are reasons which make us satisfied
with meager means of a strategy from below in the emergency. The problem is
that the woman in the bomb-cellar in 1944, for example, has no means at all to
25. Alexander Kluge was thirteen
years old and almost became a
victim of the Allied bombing of
his hometown Halberstadt, then
in GDR, on August 9, 1945.
defend herself at the moment. She might perhaps have had means in 1928 if she
organized with others before the development which then moves towards Papen,
Schleicher, and Hitler. So the question of organization is located in 1928, and the
requisite consciousness is located in 1944. (1986, 127)
For Kluge, modern history consists of these images of strategies from above, which
is the perspective of technology and power (Bowie, 113). In the same speech Kluge
further argues, the fact that we in our country are always shocked at the wrong
moments and are not shocked at right ones . . . is a consequence of our considering
politics as a specialized area which others look after for us and not as a degree of
intensity of our feelings (1986, 126). In his collection of short stories, Neue Geschichten,
Kluge often uses the resources of montage in a way which takes into account both
the need for some kind of documentation of the events . . . and the need to reveal the
fundamental inadequacy of documentation. (Bowie, 114) What emerge from his
text are the two dialectically related notions of history and abstraction. History and
abstraction share an antagonism toward the experience of the individual subject.
We deal with our surroundings in an unsensuous way, exactly as we do with the
real relations in history. And we deal with lyric poetry in a sensuous way with our
direct sense for what is near. The two fall apart. The big decisions in history are not
made in the realm of what we experience close at hand. The real big disasters take
place in the distance which we cannot experience, for which we dont have the
appropriate telescope (or microscope) in our senses. The two dont come together.
In this sense man is not a social, not a political being. And experience shows that
when he rebels he generally even smashes the few sensuous tools which link him
to the social whole. (Kluge, 1986, 122)
Kluge is looking for a way out from the ambiguity and radicalism of realism.
Since the limited individual experience does not provide the way out, it is necessary to
look for those ways out in connection with the collectivity by organizing collective
social experience. In Geschichte und Eigensinn, Kluge and Negt emphasize that the
public sphere can be understood as organizing human experience, as a historically
developing form of the mediation between the cultural organization of human
qualities and senses on the one hand and developing capitalist production on the
other. (Kndler-Bunte, 53) And in that sense they oppose Habermas, whose The
Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere was widely popular during the protest
movement in Germany.Their basic criticism of Habermas is that Habermass idea of
the bourgeois public sphere does not include the proletarian public sphere, which
is inherently opposed to the former. Rather he treats it as no more than a repressed
variant of a plebeian public sphere. For Habermas, the public sphere of the bourgeoisie has disintegrated into the rival politics of power groups and has therefore
become an object of manipulation (Kndler-Bunte, 54). He relates this condition
directly to the state of late capitalism as a refeudalization of the public sphere
(Kndler-Bunte, 54). Against this, Kluge and Negt discuss the function of the public
sphere in the context of a Marxist analysis. In fact, Kluge has always defined
public sphere in oppositional terms. He intends a type of public sphere that changes
and expands, and increases the possibilities for public articulations of experience.
In order to achieve this, says Kluge, we must very resolutely take a stance regarding
the right to intimacy, to private ownership of experience (1986, 211).
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VI. Conclusion
Kluges films are an ongoing dialogue with the identity of German history, located
between the reality of everyday experience and its ever-present antagonism with
German history. His historiography rejects the narrative thread of the conventional
cinema of Hollywood, which follows the official project of logical continuity; he
reveals the inadequacy of such projects to confront the peculiarities of a history,
especially of German history. In what could be a statement of Kluges own project,
Gabi Teichert remarks in Die Patriotin, what else is the history of a country but the
vastest narrative surface of all? Not one story but many stories. These stories in
his films are not consistent or continuous; they are a vertiginous collage of many
fragmented and disrupted stories which are linked together in free association.
Kluges films do not reconstruct the past: they deal with history from the perspective
of the present.
Bibliography
Leslie A. Adelson (1987)
Alexander Kluge
Munich: Hanser
E. F. N. Jephcott, trans.
London: Verso
Transparencies on Film
New German Critique, No. 24-25
Denkbilder
Illuminations
Reflections
Materialien
Christian Schulte, ed.
Benjamins Endgame
London: Routledge
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Alexander Kluge
Patriotin
politics
Discourse, No. 6