Marion Minerbo - Two Faces of Thanatos
Marion Minerbo - Two Faces of Thanatos
Marion Minerbo - Two Faces of Thanatos
Marion Minerbo
SADA:! I’m going to cut it off so that it’ll never enter anyone else.
The knife appears again at the film’s end when Sada kills Kichi
and actually does cut off his penis so as not to lose it. In this scene,
the redness of the blood is especially striking. Indeed, the colour
red predominates throughout the film. It represents sexuality and
violence or, better yet, the violence of sexuality.
! The filming is almost all close-up, there are scarcely any
outside scenes, and no horizons, creating a disturbing sense of
suffocation. The audience is extremely disturbed when Sada
doesn’t let Kichi leave the bedroom to go and urinate. She prefers
that he urinate inside her. Little by little she becomes obsessed with
his penis. The male protagonist, referring to his erections, says:
SADA:! I’ll never abandon you, even if you turn into a skeleton.
And she never does abandon him. In one scene, the couple walks
down a street, she with his penis in her hand as if she were pulling
him on a leash. Their bedroom becomes nauseating, permeated
with stench-since they refuse to leave even for the weekly cleaning.
They stop eating. Kichi perceives where this obsession will
inexorably lead them; nonetheless, he says, “My pleasure is to give
you pleasure and to obey your every wish.”
! In one scene, Sada sings a nursery rhyme about a girl who
incessantly asks her father to take her with him when he goes to
gather rice. He refuses, saying that she will get in his way. In
another scene, Sada’s mother plays with two nude children who
race around her in a frenzy of excitement and fear. The woman
grabs the boy’s penis, and he shouts, “Let me go, let me go!” At
the end of the film we have another dream sequence in which she
is lying down nude and around her whirls a man with a girl behind
him. The girl asks, “Can I go?” and the man answers, “Not yet.”
! Pain also has its moment. Sada asks Kichi to beat her, and
then they change roles. They discover that choking impedes
venous return and produces a harder erection, independent of
Kichi’s will. At one point, she grabs a knife and says, “I love you so
much I could kill you.” He answers, “Don’t use the knife, I’d
rather you strangle me.” It seems he already knows what awaits
him. Sada is after the absolute climax, even though it may cost her
lover’s psychological or physical wellbeing. And he does not mind:
“My body is yours. I’m part of you, we are one.” He agrees to be
choked to the point of blacking out. Sada, in despair when she
understands he has died, cuts off his penis so as to have it forever.
! At the film’s beginning, with the first sex scenes, the audience
experiences some sexual arousal owing to the couple’s eroticism
and sensuality. Little by little this early excitement becomes
disturbing, then horrific because the audience realises that this is a
case of sexual addiction. The sex scenes, now frankly
pornographic, are boring. The obsession grows and grows, and we
foresee its tragic denouement, especially as Kichi gives in to
everything Sada desires.
BROKEN FLOWERS
Don, a former Don Juan, is an ageing bachelor whose life has
become empty and aimless. He made money selling computers,
then retired. His face is expressionless and betrays apathy. His
living room is equally lifeless. He is seated on a couch starring
blankly into space or at the television set, which is showing Don
Juan’s burial. A young woman, Sherry, comes and gets her things.
She is leaving Don owing to a lack of commitment: “You don’t
want to have a family.” He doesn’t move a muscle, be it to defend
himself, be it to stop her from leaving. In the background one can
see a vase containing wilted flowers. Flowers, like the colour pink,
are the plot’s leitmotiv-wilted flowers at home, letters on pink
paper, and conventional pink flower bouquets for his former
girlfriends. At the end of the film, fresh flowers symbolise his
psychological reawakening. Broken Flowers may also connote the
women who loved him and who suffered when he abandoned
them.
! In contrast to Don’s, his neighbour Winston’s house brims with
life. Don likes this warm environment: the coffee served there,
Winston’s wife and children. Winston is a would-be detective. Don
gets an anonymous letter on pink paper, which, at first, he doesn’t
bother to open. Finally, bored as ever, he reads it and learns that
he is the father of a 19 year-old son, the fruit of a bygone love
affair. The boy has left home in search of his father, and his
mother wants Don to know about it in the event his son finds him.
! After considerable urging, Winston convinces Don that he
should go search out the truth. Winston seems to think that Don’s
son could get him out of his doldrums. He prepares Don’s
itinerary, arranges hotel reservations and car rentals. As an
amateur detective, Winston suggests that Don look for typewriters
and other objects coloured pink. Throughout the trip, Don’s face is
deadpan, making the atmosphere more and more distressing. The
audience wants him to find something to get him out of his
morass. He visits five women, but any one of them could have
been the letter writer since all their houses contain pink objects. At
least now he’s searching for something, even if it is a bureaucratic
sort of search in which he is only following Winston’s directions.
! Each house’s ambiance is unique. At Laura’s, indiscriminant
eroticism is the order of the day. Dora’s is a set stage. Carmen has
become a pet therapist who converses with her animal patients.
Penny lives in a virtual garbage dump with a violent boyfriend.
When Don asks her if she has a son, the boyfriend attacks him,
wounding his eyebrow. Don passes out and comes to-into life. He
goes to a florist to buy flowers to leave on the grave of the fifth
woman on the list, Michelle. The florist, whose name is Sun,
dresses his wound. At the cemetery Don lays down the flowers and
cries.
! Between one visit and another, we see monotonous road-movie
scenes: the car going down the highway, Don’s irritatingly
unexpressive face, the irritatingly similar music. Don has two
dreams in which ‘pieces’ of all these women appear: one woman’s
leg, another’s hair and so on. They are all blonde. There is no plot
linking the images in his dreams. At night in the motels, Don,
complaining of the futility of his search, keeps in contact with
Winston.
! Don goes back home, apparently without having found what
he was looking for. His face has not changed. One does not know
whether he is disappointed with his search or if anything has
changed within him. Then, at the bus station, he finds a boy with a
backpack, bearing a pink ribbon. The boy seems lost and to be
searching for someone. Don stares at him, and for the first time we
get the notion that we would really like it if that boy were his son.
This boy could have fled from Penny and his violent stepfather.
Don approaches him and offers to buy him a snack. They start
talking about fathers and sons. The boy takes off, scared. Don
chases him in vain. Shortly after this, another ‘likely son’ appears
and once more Don looks, searches, hopes, and desires. However,
this boy does not reciprocate either. And, with a third boy, one
understands that Don will never rest, since now he ardently wants
to have a son. Something, after all, has changed in him.
" The film has, so to speak, two endings. Sherry sends him a
letter, on pink paper, proposing that they try one more time to
have a relationship. And Don is on the road, at a crossroads, with
several different routes to choose from.
" From beginning to end, the viewer experiences a never-ending
tedium. We see to our regret and horror that nothing can touch
this man-not now, not when he was young. He was never
emotionally involved with any of those women. We are repelled by
an existence in which nothing meaningful has happened. In the
scenes in which Don visits the women on the list, the desire that
something different might happen is left to the audience. At the
end, we are left with the hope that he can find his son.
" Total narcissism is one of the clinical manifestations of the
death instinct. Both Sada and Don tend toward total narcissism:
the former owing to the heat of fusion with her object, the latter
owing to the coldness of object divestment. The films present two
faces of Thanatos and will allow us to consider both its destinies:
the repetition compulsion paroxysm or its interruption.
PSYCHOPATHOLOGY IN PSYCHOANALYSIS:
A CRITICAL VIEW
Who is the ‘sicker’? Don, walled off in his schizoid solitude, or
Sada, who, travelling along the border between perversion and
psychosis, kills her lover?
! In psychoanalyses, the answer is not an easy one. On the one
hand, the cases’ seriousness as well as these patients’ possible
outcomes, depends upon the objects they have found in their lives.
Sada does not kill Kichi because she is crazier, but because, along
with him, she becomes crazier-after all, before she met him she
had been relatively sane and content! On the other hand, how can
one recognise ‘another object’ if the pathologic object related to
the death instinct is being constantly recreated through projective
identification? In such cases, the subject always ends up finding the
same traumatising object. In other words, Sada would not have
become interested in an object who refused to play her game to
the hilt. On the other hand, if Kichi had behaved like a
psychoanalyst and if, instead of offering himself to give her the
absolute orgasm, he had tried to contain her arousal somewhat, if
he had withdrawn once in a while—to urinate, to eat—and then
come back, if he had tried to defer a bit her sexual gratification,
allowing her to experience her own sexual arousal and learn that
one does not die of it. Perhaps she could have tolerated
‘homeopathic doses’ of this ‘new object’ and not abandon him or
go mad.
! Concerning Don, he meets up with Winston, who set out to
‘treat him’. No matter how much he may have wanted to remain
isolated in his tedium, to refuse to open himself to the world
outside, given how often he visited, Don was aware there was
something of value in his neighbour’s house. He seemed to seek
something there. The outline of this object already existed, and
Winston comes on the scene to instantiate it, offering the necessary
transferential sustenance. Even at night he was available for Don’s
phone calls. Had these two men not known each other, one can
easily imagine Don’s spending the rest of his life sitting like a
zombie on his living room couch watching television. His
pathology is every bit as serious as Sada’s.
! The analysis of these two films supports the idea that in
psychoanalysis psychopathology is relative. That is, psychoanalysis
does not address an empirical reality, an encapsulated nosological
entity like a gastric ulcer. Psychopathology is not a disease of the
psychic organ of the soul. If psychic life exists in intersubjectivity,
then psychopathology comes about in the realm of object
relations. Objects, because of their own unconscious needs,
actively seek and ‘arouse’ subjects’ internal objects in different
ways. Thus, a pathological internal object can ‘come to life’ only
within certain relationships. For instance, children can be terrible
with their mothers, then pleasant and co-operative with other
people. Psychoanalysis can alter the repetition compulsion since
analysts do not, in principle, actively solicit any particular internal
object in their patients. On the contrary, analysts let themselves be
‘created’, i.e. ‘transformed’ by their patients’ projections, however
they do not respond the same way their patients’ internal objects
do. This is where psychic change begins.
DESTINIES OF THE DEATH DRIVE:
THE MEETING WITH THE OBJECT
According to Figueiredo the term ‘death drive’ describes a specific
drive’s function regimen that is closely related to the quality of the
primal object. If the object reacts to the drive demand in an
adequate fashion, it can be discarded as the primal object and
internalized. In these cases, psychic processes can create
representations that will function according to Eros. That is,
repetition will lead individuals to find the object of desire, which
will appear in different forms throughout their lives. But, if the
primal object did not make the necessary psychic binding, or if,
owing to some traumas, the binding was destroyed too early, a
pattern of drive function marked by a thanatic repetition
compulsion will emerge. Life’s goal is not the search for pleasure,
but a desperate need to make connections that quell the traumatic
pain and reconstitute vital narcissism. A third pattern of drive
function, also guided by Thanatos, emerges when subjects despair
of finding any object capable of containing the violence, or
intensity, of impulses. In the latter case, rather than going on
searching, they give up. They stop seeking. Whatever connections
they do make get undermined. They return to their narcissism
having pre-empted any opening to any object. This is Figueiredo’s
interpretation of what Freud called a reversion to the inorganic,
i.e. a rejection of their very subjectivity.
! It is obvious which patterns of drive function these two
characters adopt. Sada seems to be looking for the object that can
help her contain her intense sexual and aggressive impulses. So
much so that she gave up prostitution and went to work as a
housemaid. Ironically, however, she finds in Kichi the same hyper-
stimulating object that occurs in her childhood dreams—the
mother with two naked children. As far as Don is concerned, he
seems to have given up trying to find his object. In this case, the
object actively seeks him out.
! Winston, his full-of-life neighbour, is psychologically disposed
to be ‘making new connections’ constantly. He is connected to the
world through the internet, he has a passion for mysteries, and a
detective’s avocation. Don, on the other hand, does not even have
a computer. He does not open the pink envelope, but with the
letter in hand he does go next door to say hello to his neighbour.
Winston interprets this as a cry for help and, within the
transference, urges Don to travel and find out if he does have a
son. Don refuses to be moved by such a possibility and in so doing
exemplifies Freud’s definition of death drive: the desire to have no
desire whatsoever. That is, to keep arousal at the lowest level
attainable, if possible at zero. Still, Winston does not give up when
Don asks him to leave him alone, when he says he would rather
not know, that he’s not interested. Instead, supported by his own
narcissistic reserves, Winston actively invests his own libido in Don,
‘reclaiming’ his drive and calling him back to life. Thus, Winston’s
insistence and investment in Don have a disruptive, and therefore
therapeutic, effect on Don’s melancholic divestment of his dead
mother.
! According to Green, the dead mother denotes the psychic
functioning of a mother who, owing to her own melancholy,
cannot make the necessary investments in her baby. She lets the
baby’s drive sleep on, so to speak. Primal identifications will be
made precisely on the lack of any regard capable of constituting
primal narcissism. One must remember that primal identification
is made to the negative, i.e. to a lack of investment. Given this
identification with the negative, Don will invest no object
whatsoever, with the result that no object becomes meaningful.
That is, there is no emotional density in his inner life. This is
evident in the film, since his girlfriends have left no mark on him.
His list of possible mothers for his child is made owing to
Winston’s request and in a totally rote fashion. The predominant
affect in this psychological landscape is tedium. Based on the
notion of the dead mother, Don’s tedium derives from melancholy,
not his melancholy, rather his mother’s.
" At first glance Don seems melancholic, but the audience soon
realises that he feels no sadness, no pain from the loss of a
significant object, no self-recriminations, no despair, indeed none
of the symptoms that usually characterise this psychopathological
state of affairs. In truth, he feels nothing. There is another
pathological condition, the schizoid state, in which the subject feels
nothing. Figueiredo suggests that the most characteristic affects
associated with schizoid withdrawal are tedium and a feeling of
futility, both consequent to a wholesale divestment of the world.
! The treatment of this type of borderline in its beginning
consists of actively encountering patients where they are. This is
what Winston does. He suggests an itinerary for Don, he buys the
tickets, reserves the lodging and rents the cars for this trip into the
past, where Don will meet up with his ex-girlfriends. This is also a
trip into Don’s inner self so as to give new meaning to his past.
Lest one forget, Don goes off in search of a ‘mother’, in this case
the woman who supposedly is his son’s mother. However, we can
also take this as Don’s search for his own mother, but now a live
mother, represented by Winston, a mother who can be
internalized as a worthy internal object. Such an internalization
will constitute a framework necessary for the objectifying function,
a concept developed by Green; Broken Flowers is nothing less than
the narrative of new meaning for Don’s past owing to new
encounters.
! Sada, who up to the point that we meet her, one way or
another seems to have managed to adapt to the world through her
profession as a prostitute. She leaves that life and that helpful
framework—being a geisha is respected in the Japanese social code
—and becomes a maid in Kichi and his wife’s house. In this new
context, where her impulses are no longer under control owing to
the sudden loss of the adequate external framework, she
encounters the object with whom she embarks upon a folie deux, in
this case, sexual addiction.
! Kichi embodies an object doubly determined. On the one
hand, he is the very primal object, hyper-stimulating and
incapable of totally exercising the maternal function: he awakens
the impulse but does not contain it. When he becomes aware of
Sada’s sensuality, Kichi exacerbates it by saying that she should be
holding on to his penis rather than the knife. That is, he perceives
her need, and, instead of offering containment, i.e. words that
contain and symbolise drive’s arousal, he offers his penis, a
concrete object with which he maintains a pre-genital, mostly oral,
object gratification. In this sense, Kichi acts as a mother of a
future psychotic. He is narcissistically aroused because Sada in her
transference takes him for the idealised breast. Dazzled with his
own potency, he resolves to satisfy Sada absolutely. Kichi is caught
up in his own ‘counter-transference’. His own narcissistic needs
trap him in the role that will cost him his life. Throughout the film,
the audience witnesses Kichi’s not wanting, not knowing, or not
being able to frustrate her. He goes so far as to try, once or twice,
to offer words instead of his penis, but, in the face of Sada’s rage,
he gives up. When he concedes, “Even if I turn into a skeleton, I’ll
never leave you,” he does not help her open some space for
thought and symbolisation, instead he keeps her in the needy
register forever.
! In addition to representing the self-idealised and over-
stimulating breast, Kichi is also Sada’s boss. This asymmetry
makes him, in transference terms, into the paternal figure who
invites her to act out with him an archaic incestuous relationship
characterised by orality. She asks to be dismissed, which reveals
some capacity for thought and self-containment. But, since her
bosses do not let her go, she loses control and is overwhelmed by
her violent impulses. In other words, instead of finding herself an
analyst, she found an object that lets itself be captured and
colludes with her and her fantasy—the abolition of all boundaries
between them.
! Laplanche helps us understand Sada’s sexuality. He maintains
that when Freud advanced the concept of death drive, he rescued
the pre-genital, unbound sex drive: violent, disruptive and
fragmented in character. With narcissism, however, the sex drive
unifies around its first object, the ego. At this point in Freud’s
writing, the sex drive became ‘pacified’, i.e. connected to an
object. Laplanche sees no need to postulate the existence of two
drives since the death drive would be the sex drive in its unbound
state. In this sense, the death drive emerges with the characteristics
described above and seeks absolute and immediate gratification. It
uses the shortest route, discharge, in a pattern typical of the
primary process, with no deferral possible. Sexual death instinct
fragments and de-personalises its object, turning it into a partial
object, using it as an instrument and satisfying itself in this
manner. This is borderline territory, with its perverse, addictive, or
even psychopathic manifestations.
! We are talking about meeting the object and its consequences.
It is worthwhile to emphasize that the meetings narrated in these
two films have the power they do owing to transference. At the
beginning of Broken Flowers, Don’s only significant investment is in
Winston and his family. This shows that there is a trace in his
psyche of a living object alongside the ‘dead mother’ with whom
Don is identified. This is why, in spite of his resistance, Don is not
indifferent to his neighbour’s words. Sada finds in real life the
twice-determined object we identified above, and this is what
brings about her entrapment in and by the transference.
DESIRE/NECESSITY
Broken Flowers’ initial scenes are shot from a camera that is as
immobile as Don is, and they last long enough to make the
audience feel uneasy. Don gazes emptily at nothing. He makes no
move whatsoever to stop his girlfriend from leaving. This ex-Don
Juan, whom we imagine to have had many women in his past, now
appears to want nothing, except to be left alone in his house,
which seems more like a funeral parlour than anybody’s home. If
there once was any desire in Don’s life, there are certainly no
traces of it, and this is compatible with schizoid withdrawal.
Tedium, as we have seen, is its characteristic affect. Figueiredo
says:
The feeling of tedium and futility is the dominant tone in schizoid states in
their most sombre moments. Here nothing, absolutely nothing, neither in
the present, nor in the past, nor in the future can be infused with any affect,
be appeals positive or negative.