Cliché and Organization : Thinking with Deleuze and Film 1443886831, 9781443886833, 9781443889605

Table of contents :
Table of Contents
On the Text
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Conclusions
Filmography
Bibliography
Acknowledgements

Citation preview

Cliché and Organization

Cliché and Organization: Thinking with Deleuze and Film By

Luc Peters

Cliché and Organization: Thinking with Deleuze and Film By Luc Peters This book first published 2016 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2016 by Luc Peters All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-8683-1 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-8683-3

TABLE OF CONTENTS

On the Text ................................................................................................ vii Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Chapter One ............................................................................................... 43 Deleuze and Cliché Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 87 Film and Cliché Chapter Three .......................................................................................... 123 Architecture and Cliché Chapter Four ............................................................................................ 177 Organisation and Cliché Conclusions ............................................................................................. 221 Filmography ............................................................................................ 227 Bibliography ............................................................................................ 229 Acknowledgements ................................................................................. 247

ON THE TEXT

This book was originally written in the Dutch language as a PhD thesis. In this thesis various original texts were translated into Dutch. Others, especially all the citations from films, were left in the original language. The book was published in the Netherlands in 2014. During the process of translating my thesis into English I quoted previously existing English translations verbatim as well as using my own English translations of foreign-language texts. The decision of whether or not to use my own translation was always based on the clarity of the previously existing translation and whether it strengthened the text. A complicating factor is that some words which are used in the Dutch language are difficult to translate. An example is the Dutch word: “maakbaarheid,” for which I consider “mouldability” to be the most suitable translation. Mouldability is one of the key words in the text, and it implies that something can be created according to a plan or shaped in accordance with a specific set of criteria, as well as the dominant belief that this is actually possible. Some other words of German origin can be easily translated into Dutch, but are difficult to translate into English. An example is the German “schein,” which is “schijn” in Dutch. In English I have chosen the word “appearance” for this, because I feel that it most accurately conveys the meaning of its German counterpart. It is especially used in the idea of an appearance-reality, i.e. something that is considered real when in fact it is not because it remains an illusion. Another example is the German word “wohnen,” specifically how it is used and explained by Martin Heidegger. I have chosen to translate this with “living.” This is more or less fueled by the idea of “das Wohnzimmer,” “the living-room,” which emphasizes what the concept of living should refer to in this book. In other texts, “wohnen” is translated as “dwelling,” which could be related to another concept I used: “nomadology.” Nevertheless, I consider “living” the preferred translation. Related to this is the Heideggerian concept of “Geviert,” which I have chosen to translate as “fourfold.” Another example is “Wohnenlassen,” which I have translated as “let-live,” i.e. allowing for the possibility to live. In the original PhD version there were also various images of films, like The Big Lebowski, eXistenZ, and Clerks, and various images of architecture from Frank Lloyd Wright and Lebbeus Woods among others. I decided to leave them out because of the

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On the Text

difficulty involved in obtaining the various publishing rights. However, I do believe that the text itself is strong enough and I feel that the absence of these images does not hamper the clarity of the arguments. Furthermore, it is a good reason to watch the various films and to visit the various buildings discussed in this book. In May 2015, the Dutch version of this book was nominated for the Book of the Year award by OOA, which is the Dutch organization for management consultants. This was surprising to me as the book is not primarily about management or consultancy. Even more interesting is the fact that it does not deliver a method, or a “right” way to do things in organizations, which is, after all, the entire point of consultancy. It is a philosophical book on organization, using film and architecture. Philosophy, as I have been informed, is not meant to solve problems, but to cause trouble, a description that I really like and one that helps me to explain my work and further research. After all, once you start there is no end to it, and it becomes this beautiful obsession.

INTRODUCTION

In our strange and enchanting world of organizations, we witness an increasing urge for sameness. The ways in which they organize and present themselves are becoming more and more identical. Therefore, the claim can be made that organizations are caught in clichés. This imprisonment and especially the possible alternatives represent the focal point of this investigation. What is the basis of this statement that organizations are caught in clichés? Besides a certain feeling that has arisen in me through many years of experience of working in organizations, I also started thinking in terms of clichés through my interest in organization studies. The way organizations present themselves, based on certain achievements and future goals, can be researched through annual reports. While studying the annual reports from four different organizations I noticed a uniformity in ideas, statements, and representations, which formed the basis of these four different reports. The suppositions made about the organizations can be considered cliché-like. But what is a cliché? In the dictionary, the word “cliché” is described as a pressure plate in which a negative is represented. In other words, it is a sort of mould that can be used for the exact copying of an original. This means that a cliché creates the perfect copy. Deviations are seemingly impossible. Creativity is only needed once, namely for the manufacturing of the mould. When that is done, there is only room for reproduction, and changes are considered illicit. Apart from what goes on in its surroundings, or from the specific influence of people—in short, apart from contextual specificities, the cliché remains fully intact. Therefore it is the ultimate condition of stability and maintenance. The art is in the making of the mould. Organizations can copy this mould, into which language is poured as endlessly as pleased. It is like a photographic negative. The quality of the copies is guaranteed. The cliché can be reused continuously.

Annual Reports Let us return to the aforementioned four annual reports and find out what they have to tell us. Looking at organization A, we learn that they want to be decisive, evident and friendly. They expect their employees to be

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Introduction

“professional actors.” By means of a call-center they strive for speed, quality, and availability. In order to control this, they monitor, secure, and fix positive results. A wants to be modern, goal-oriented, focused on customers, and a serious partner. For this results have to be accomplished. It is important to keep the organization on track. The route, which has been decided upon in advance, has to be maintained. They strive for some sort of cruise control, whereby the navigation system is to be set only once. Furthermore, they speak of intensity, experiment, and an increasing cooperation in order to achieve the goal—the so-called “eye on the future.” The goal is not open for discussion and all means are justified. The means, in other words, are chosen for their possibility of realizing a contribution to the reaching of the goal. They search for the controlling of costs and an increase in efficiency in order to enlarge the potency for change. Potency for change is understood as sticking to a course that has been outlined in advance. Furthermore, attention is given to qualitymanagement and the employability of staff. What do we read in the annual report of organization B? They aim their focus on core activities, a strong market position, and they try to strengthen these through alliances. They strive for a positive and structural contribution to a stimulating and dynamic work environment. They want to realize company-goals, and for this they are depending on the cooperation of their environment as it is ruled by the government. They think in terms of cost-measures, improvement of productivity, innovation, efficiency, transparency, flexibility, growth, sustainability, smartness, quality of the network, and advantages through synergy. Organization B wants a larger turnover, a higher output, and access to new markets. They want a cleverer use of production facilities and share all that under the motto “celebrating the spirit.” They mention the value of the network and especially the so-called “hubs.” This should come about in a project-like fashion, where the chain should become more transparent, growth should be selective and the market should be secured and further enlarged. They strive for future certainties through the initiation of projects and pilots. This should include short-term as well as long-term solutions. The customer is offered a bigger influence and the interaction with people is given a central role. From the staff more flexibility is expected. This will also be investigated further through a pilot. Furthermore, they try to increase the public acceptation. What can we say of the annual report of organization C? Goals take a central position and designate the path that has to be followed. The dominant terminology comprises quality, structure, professionalism, and added value. Everything revolves around the customer, and the

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organization wants to meet the justified expectations, wishes, and desires as much as possible. Profits have to increase, the organization should become more professional, routine is important, and goals which have been set in advance must be reached, come hell or high water. What is stipulated in advance should be realized in the end. That the organization cannot do this on its own is shown by its declaration of dependency from the government, which has to arrange various matters for it. These preconditions must be realized, otherwise the feasibility of the goals becomes problematic. Furthermore, they are thinking about the alliances that should take shape in network-like constructions. These should guarantee the long-term strategy. All this is laid down in policy plans. In order to monitor these they use control, audits, and compliance. A lot of importance is given to procedures, directives, and regulations. Furthermore, the image presented to the outside world, or how the outside world could interpret this, is focal. The image is important and influences the reaching of the fixed goal. Also, the image as it takes shape internally, in other words how staff experiences working in the organization, is considered important. This is justified by an annual social report. How the employees experience their work is supposedly considered relevant. This leaves us with organization D. This organization analyzes the past and uses this to shape a vision. Subsequently, it looks to the future, something that results in a mission statement. In this, strength, innovation, efficiency, excellence, quality, balance, and performance are the central issues. The emphasis is constantly on power. This is apparently the major theme that is expected to increase the potency and protect them or help against tough competition. The surroundings are unpredictable, dangerous, and ruthless. Therefore, next to power, creativity is needed to ensure success. The reason the report is made is that it can be read as a route to success. Continuity plays its part, just like challenge, maintenance, improvement, and liability. The chosen route should lead to top quality, tradition, aspirations, authenticity, and pleasure. This is all compared to a decent balance between price and quality. For this, it is important to measure results and join forces. Organization D also feels the need for the regulating influence of the government, which is seen as a key player in the cultivation of markets in order to adapt them to fair competition. What all four annual reports show is a univocality in language, goals, and expectations. All four believe in analysis. This is the basis on which they diagnose a prescribed situation in order to set goals and designate the necessary recourses. The surroundings have a dominant influence. The customer on the one hand and the competitors on the other stipulate the strategy. Their own strength is in tradition, which should be maintained in

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Introduction

order to guarantee continuity. The staff should comply with this idea, for which they get special training and are expected to enlarge their flexible attitude. The staff is, above all else, seen as a machine that can be programmed. The competitors are seen as transparent appearances, which can be fathomed and with which a profitable alliance can be formed. Ratio comes first. The truth is discernible and can be understood and shaped in a profitable way. The main dependence is on the government, which should supply regulations in order to increase the conditions on the market. The present situation or how it is analyzed is unacceptable. Danger lurks, consisting in a changing reality that takes place in the organization and its surroundings. As the surroundings designate the route, they should go with the flow, and for this giant steps are needed. This looks like an awkward situation. However, the managers of the organization do not perceive it in this way—it is seen as a challenge, and they are optimistic about the chances of reaching their goals. Above all, there is optimism in the annual reports. The pictures of the managers, who signed these reports, show selfconfident, smiling men, who are sharply dressed and do not question the designated route. The atmosphere is optimistic and, according to them, the goal is no illusion but an achievable reality. They are convinced that the outside world is complex and has to be conquered. This means that the legitimacy of organizations comes from an outside world that was already there, and which brings forth organizations. But this is a situation that has to be controlled, and all four organizations need the help of others, mainly the government, in this. The government should create conditions that make conquering possible. The fact remains that no matter in what way they arrange the internal organization, the outside world or the environment remains an obstacle. A further recurring assumption is that they have to choose allies. Conquering is not done by yourself, but with the help of allies. The struggle is a war and besides the military language needed, they also draw on the history of warcraft. What else is there to say? What all four assume is a so-called meansends rationality. There is an end to achieve and for this the right means have to be chosen. The choice of the means and the end is made through a thorough analysis of the previous situation. The teleological thought is leading in an organization and is not to be debated. In other words, the reaching of the end or the achieving of the goal depends on the cooperation of others acting in a capricious environment. In order to be an interesting partner they search for a clear representation of their own organization. They want to be open and transparent. The other should get a clear image in which nothing is hidden. The credo is openness through transparency, but transparency alone is not enough. The image created

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through transparency should be an ideal one. The image which is painted in the annual reports is of the clean and efficient machine, in which the employees are happy and well educated, and comply in further strengthening the competitive position. The employees are subordinate to the machine; in other words, they are its servants. Efficiency comes first. At first glance, the above-mentioned characteristics are not really strange if we assume that they concern four rather similar organizations. This, however, is not the case. Organization A is the UWV, the Dutch governmental organization for the welfare of the unemployed or those otherwise unfit for work. It has been criticized since its beginnings in 2002 and has been trying to transform itself from a traditional governmental organization to a modern service that focuses on customers. Organization B is the KLM, the Dutch airways who merged with Air France a few years ago and which is still an important international player. Organization C is Ajax, the Dutch soccer club, which wants to make its successes from the past the contemporary standard. Finally, organization D is Grolsch, one of the leading Dutch beer breweries which is successfully making its way in the international market, without losing sight of local tradition. These are four totally different organizations that seemingly look to the future in the same way and which describe the same issues in the same language. This suggests that they are all using the same mould. Where UWV has a clear societal task and should not be concerned with making profits, one can doubt if this is the case with Grolsch or KLM. Still, they talk in the same way about organizing. Where Ajax depends on the personal qualities of its players and coaches and especially on their physical fitness, KLM leans on the quality and attractiveness of its flights. With Grolsch it is mainly the customers preference of taste, and with UWV the political climate that directs their strategy. Nevertheless, all four choose the same mould to shape their policies. They are all caught in the same clichés, and in this way they try to direct the world and assume a unique position. What is furthermore noticeable in these efforts is the high level of abstraction. The impression that arises is that this striving for openness leads to a superficiality that seems necessary to guarantee recognition. In order to maintain themselves, various matters are left unspoken or are denied. The real motivators of the employees are not mentioned, and neither are the place of work or the workspace. It seems as if all feelings in the machine are absent. We can wonder about this certain approach where employees are seen as the rational means of production only. Do people comply with such a role? Or is this image in which people are only the means of production the only image that can be created of an organization? I do not believe that this is the case.

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Introduction

We can assume that there are more images of organization. The question is, why have these images vanished from sight? From this we can conclude that only a limited image of reality is presented. We can even argue that the reality they show is an illusion. Now, there is nothing wrong with an illusion—the problem is that these cases are presented as reality. A too-limited and too-general image is created. My argument is that if we do not recognize any alternatives and learn how to use them, organizations will get caught in their own clichés more and more, and as a result will hollow themselves out or undermine themselves. In other words, they will come into conflict with themselves. It almost seems as if there are no alternatives. They are all caught in the same mould, in the same cliché-like thinking and acting. No one dares to challenge the means-ends rationalism, transparency, efficiency, cooperation, the compulsion for conquest, the faith in the strong leader, a sequential passing of time, a clear beginning and ending, and the happy end. These are the clichés that are relevant in this research. It is thus necessary that we show alternatives, that we start looking for new ways of organizing. In this, the clichés mentioned are abolished. People are seen as corporeal, ratio is only used when necessary, ends are used in the right context, and it becomes important to value the building in which the organization lives. The question at hand is, how can we imagine this? To make this possible, we have to address disciplines that can offer an alternative, like film and architecture.

Textbooks We could argue that the world as it is sketched in the annual reports is not a good representation of organizations. In other words, it presents a false image, one that suggests that annual reports are only a means of communication or advertisement—that these are images in which organizations themselves do not believe and which play no relevant part whatsoever. That it is a world in which the creators themselves do not believe. A world which is constructed for other organizational purposes. This should imply that there exists another image of organizations that is more realistic. Before addressing the question of these other images of organizations, I want to address the question of how these images are created. Not the results as they are presented in the annual reports, but the way in which these results are achieved. Which ideas or conceptions are relevant? In what way do we gain information on organizations? Where do all these conceptions come from? A possible answer can be found in the

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education and studying of organization. What images are created by textbooks on organization? Let us have a look at three examples: Strategic Management, Competitiveness and Globalization (Volberda, Morgan, Reinmoeller, Hitt, Ireland & Hoskisson, 2011), Marketing Management (Kotler, Keller, Brady, Goodman & Hansen, 2009) and Exploring Corporate Strategy (Johnson & Scholes, 1999). These three thick books supply us with a cross section of the process of organization. They offer the ingredients of the annual reports. They show that the process of organization has a clear goal—success. The books argue more or less that if we follow their directions, we will earn the success we are entitled to. For a student this is a diploma, as he or she has consumed and digested all this knowledge. For the organizations it is financial gain. If we open these textbooks we see similar pictures of optimistic faces, as in the annual reports—different faces, but the same image. In the annual report it was at the end that we were surprised with their self-assured optimism. In the textbooks, however, they are there in the beginning. These images are what should give us faith in the quality of the knowledge presented. The legitimacy of knowledge is the starting point of the textbooks. They are like portraits created by the same director—identical facial expressions, identical tailor-made suits, identical smiles. This selfassurance and uniformity should convince us of the fact that we only have to follow their directions. The path is a straight line that goes up. Herewith we arrive at the essence of the textbooks. We are told what we should and should not do. This is substantiated with the help of models and success stories from business cases. These cases repeatedly show a world that is identical to that of the annual reports. They implicate that we can gain the same level of success, and for this we only have to do the same as in the cases presented. We only have to copy a good example. In this way, annual reports and textbooks become dominant and shape a system that seems impossible to break out of. They become identical copies from which an original vanishes. The image of organizations is stipulated through this interaction. In the textbooks we see a wide variety of organizations, like Google, Dell, Ikea, Armani, BBC, Al Jazeera, DSM, Ryanair, Ferrari, and many others. Various organizations that all organize in the same way. These are supported by specific leaders that should make the difference, people like Steve Jobs of Apple, Richard Branson of Virgin, or Renzo Rosso of Diesel. We see these organizations being successful all over the world. On the one hand, the uniqueness of these successes is discussed, and on the other we are informed on the analysis of this success. This analysis puts

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Introduction

the student of these books in a position to copy that success. In other words, the textbook offers a mould that can be used for copying. It is comparable to using a success formula. The enigma of success is explained; the mystery is unmasked, and shows us that success is within everyone’s reach. It makes it clear that every dream can become a reality, but only if we follow the path described in the textbooks. In order to make this even clearer, each book starts with a scheme that can be regarded as a route. This is the path to success, which is identical to the route through the book. At the beginning of each chapter we see the various components breaking up the whole into logical parts. This implicates a straight line with clear forks and a logical sequence. From the first chapter until the last, there is a logical path to success. The importance of pre-fixed paths is not doubted. Elements like planning, leadership, and control play a crucial part. It is not a matter of searching or discovering, but of applying. This, however, does not mean that it is a simple story. On the one hand, the textbooks try to cover the whole world of organization. On the other, they try to lay down a logical and transparent world. This should enable us to understand these organizations and to copy the wise lessons of these shining men in their three-piece suits. Success seems unavoidable. The chance of failure is minimized. Should this, for whatever reason, not be successful in the end, than the blame cannot be laid on the textbook or the shining men. We can only blame ourselves, or the execution and adaptation of the models. Only humans can make the machine of organizations malfunction. The annual reports and textbooks show the same cliché-like opinions. It is all about models that just have to be copied and used. It is the world of calculative thinking instead of free and open-minded thinking. Free thinking is unwanted here. It is a world obsessed with teleology, mouldability, transparency, and sequentiality. The reason we name it an obsession is based on the blind faith and systematic refusal of alternatives. Textbooks try to figure out the main ingredients of the basic laws of organization. It is like the search for the ultimate truth and certainties that exist beyond time and place. It is about fill-in formats instead of concepts. It is about linear movements that constantly move in the same direction. This linearity makes it possible for us to put these processes in a linear timeframe. We can adapt them to clock time. In other words, we can give them a place in time. Through this, they become programmable and the only thing we need is to find the right means to reach the goal in a fixed time. The organization is rebuilt into a programmable machine, in which all the parts, including humans, are subordinated to it. In order to reach

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this goal all parts must be thoroughly adjusted. The machine is created through the pre-fabricated mould. It is clean, transparent, efficient, and promises cruise-control. This is the ideal speed for the machine—the speed that offers the highest output. We see this presented in the widely shown organizational charts or the models that should give us insight of the market and our competitors. Just like in the annual reports, the outside world is a crucial element. This outside world demands on the one hand allies and on the other hand flexibility or potency for change. The organization needs this potency in order to be a strong player. Herewith, the strong leader is also important. He is the one who is able to adapt to certain situations and is able to steer the organization in a certain direction. Here we see the same military language as we have seen in the annual reports. The textbooks offer us a world of artificial models, whose language we have to learn first in order to be able to use them. It is a world that should be strange to us. Still the textbooks claim that this is our world of organizations. It gives the impression that a surface is created that implies deep structure, but that doesn’t deliver this. Everything remains a strange and artificial world. It puts our world and thus the world of organizations at a distance. It is claimed that solutions are available and that we can find them, but somewhere the feeling creeps up on us that we are stuck in the artificial world of textbooks, without ever reaching the real world of organizations. It is this utopian image that tries to assure us that we know what is going on and what action we have to conduct. It claims that this should always function and be within anyone’s reach. This can be doubted. This illusion is presented as reality, and strangely enough it is these presented organizations that are out of this world. The annual reports and textbooks display a one-dimensional image of organizations. Overall, we see a uniform representation. Success is unavoidable—we only have to copy it. We have seen that annual reports and textbooks are one and cannot be separated. They make use of the same uniformity. Their trust in the mould is identical. In the continuation of this research I will therefore, whenever referring to annual reports, consider this as the image of organizations as presented in textbooks or anywhere else. The cliché has gained a strong position and sees to it that the images become identical. It shows that the cliché is almost inescapable.

Isomorphism The idea that organizations are caught in clichés is not new. There is a long history in the research of organizations becoming identical. The term

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Introduction

isomorphism, or similarity, is often used to describe this process. The question is, in what way did isomorphism start to play a part in organizations? Obviously, organization studies is a rather new field of research. We can argue that it started in 1911 with the work of Frederic Taylor on Scientific Management. Taylor wanted to make a blueprint for organizations, and this shaped the basis for isomorphism. A blueprint can be considered identical to a cliché. These blueprints make thinking obsolete. This implicates the copying of ways of organizing, which it is assumed will lead to success. But according to Meyer and Rowan (1977) there is more: “The growth of rationalized institutional structures in society makes formal organizations more common and more elaborate. Such institutions are myths which make formal organizations both easier to create and more necessary” (1977, 345). It is thus not only that organizations are becoming more and more identical, but that this is based on myths. Meyer and Rowan therefore question the isomorphism of organizations. Before we look at their ideas more thoroughly we have to ask ourselves—what is a myth? According to French philosopher Roland Barthes, a myth is a means of communication. It is a means to make something clear. It is all about making up a story that fits. This story should eliminate surprises. According to Barthes, the main goal of the myth is: “to make the world stop” (2002, 253). Myths implicate: “a prohibition for man to invent himself” (Ibid.). Man should not surprise himself or his surroundings. A complicating element is that we do not really know when something is a myth and when it isn’t. Everything can be a myth. The myth for Barthes consists of not only words, but also of photography, film, reports, theater or advertising. Everything can become a carrier of myths. It concerns material that is already pre-fixed in order to make communication suitable. The myth is based on appearance. It is thus not about reality, but about a certain perception of this reality. It is a, “vague knowledge, which consists of unclear unbounded associations … it is a formless, unstable, misty condensation of which the unity, the consistency is present mainly in its function” (219). As mentioned, it is not about truth or reality, but about intentions. It is not about how it is, but how we see it. This immediately explains the seductiveness of the myth. Where the reality is intangible, the myth gives us the illusion of tangibility. It offers the opportunity to give our own interpretation of the real. The myth is able to make the incomprehensible world comprehensible, even if it is only an interpretation based on a fantasy. It looks so real that we are willing to

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accept it. An important advantage is that: “the content can almost always be interpreted” (232). The myth needs to be recognized in order to make associations possible. The myth needs to be connected to our own fantasyworld, which we can enlarge with its help. “The reader lives through the myth as a history which is simultaneously true and unreal” (228). The result is that, “the myth is read like a system of facts, while it is only a semiotic system” (231). The myth takes everything and everyone along with it. “In fact nothing is safe from the myth” (Ibid.). It is also tough. The myth is a language which is not willing to die: “it transforms the content into a speaking corpse” (233). It is dead language. The myth arises out of a historical reality, which we transform into a natural image of that reality. Although we know it is not true, we are still willing to believe it, probably because we do not see an alternative. To put it more strongly, according to Zizek (1989) this means that, no matter how much we try to unmask myths, or in this matter clichés, nothing will make people question them. We know this, but refuse to do something about it. This implies that we not only do not see the difference between myth and non-myth, but that we are not even interested in this. According to Zizek (1989), this is mainly caused by the hope of financial gain. We turn the myth into a reality and blindly believe in it, even if it is an empty vessel. “The function of the myth is to empty the reality: it is literally a constant flowing away, a bleeding or if one wants an evaporation, in short a tangible disappearance” (Barthes 2002, 241). The reality is bleeding to death. Remarkably enough, this makes it usable, something through which we are not willing to give up the myth or change it. This results in the fact that the using of the myth knows no danger or risks. However, for the myth itself there are dangers involved. The first is that we take the myth literally. Its power then disappears. The second is the situation in which the myth is incomprehensible. The literally and the incomprehensible make the myth impotent. Barthes links the myth to “nornorism”—I want neither this nor that. To put it differently: “we throw the elements between which it is difficult to choose on a pile; we flee the unbearable reality by reducing it to two counterpoints, which are only in balance because of their formalization, stripped of their specific weight” (Ibid., 251). This makes us evade a choice. An important part is played by a vaccine that protects us against unwanted interference or outside ideas. This reduces the complexity of options. The vaccine keeps the myth “healthy.” For instance, the omnipresent idea of reducing quality to numbers. “By reducing every quality to a number the myth saves on intelligence: the understanding of reality becomes cheaper” (2002, 251). Quality is viewed as extra

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Introduction

expenditures. Again, we witness an attempt to bring reality to a standstill in order to create time and space for interpretation. Let us return to Meyer and Rowan and their opinions on the myth in organizations. Why do organizations use myths? They state the following: “Organizations are driven to incorporate the practices and procedures defined by prevailing rationalized concepts of organizational work and institutionalized in society” (1977, 340). This means that organizations have to choose the stories of how things should be done and these have to be applied. These powerful myths are used by organizations because they conform to their fantasy-world. This makes it an accepted coercion. Meyer and Rowan further claim that these myths try to conform to the surroundings of the organizations instead of what is really needed to do the job. It is all about image and appearance, never about content. It is not important anymore that organizations are doing well, but that they give off the image that they are doing well. It is not about what they do, but about the image of what they do. They are more sensitive about myths than about reality. The sensitivity for myth leans strongly on the trust in ratio. The more complex and unpredictable the organization and its surrounding become, the more it will strive for formalism and rationalism. The mythical element is emphasized strongly: “When the relational networks involved in economic exchange and political management become extremely complex, bureaucratic structures are thought to be the most effective and rational means to standardize and control sub-units” (1977, 342). They want to reduce complexity to a binary tree structure. Everything is reduced to a choice between good and bad, black and white. In this way, they veil the complexity. Organizations shape themselves according to the myth and not according to their needs. They start to believe that this is the right way. They start doing something without them knowing if it is really good or useful for them. This is something in which they, as mentioned, have no choice. This does not mean however that the organization becomes more coherent, but that it starts to behave more like something with loose parts that answer to an outside world. The organization becomes “loosely coupled.” It gives the impression of cutting away the moving parts. It is exactly this movement that Meyer and Rowan try to understand. How is it possible that we look for more standardization and thus more rules and less freedom of movement in a situation of insecurity? Why do we have more trust in the copy and less in the original? The reliance upon ratio is so deeply rooted in our thinking and acting that we can see no alternative. Our perception is fixed and cannot handle any new perceptions. This is not only the case with organizations, but also with the

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way we deal with education. Everything that is institutionalized clings to the formal whenever complexity increases. This is rooted in our society. The less readable the world is, the more we escape into rules and procedures when complexity increases. The construction of these formal organizations thus becomes more and more easy and this is further emphasized by the development of so-called “building-blocks” that should make the construction easier. This is something we have already seen in the work of Mintzberg (1999). The organization-architecture is also developing into a more formalized way. These building blocks should enable organization. They make the world of organization become understandable and connect it with their own fantasy-world. It is a combination of trust in ratio, pressure from the outside world, and insecurity in the complexity of the world that gives power to the myth. This makes the organization become isomorphic. Other options disappear out of sight. It is a system of copies instead of an authentic system that should be capable of showing and using uniqueness. An increase in complexity strengthens the myth. Complexity is handled with a myth of rationality. This myth becomes more and more dominant whenever the ratio becomes more dominant. A self-enhancing system arises. This is further enhanced by legislation. The restrictions that are caused by this weaken the freedom of movement of the organizations and strengthen the trust in ratio and thus the dominance of the myth. Obviously, organizations will try to influence the outside world and thus legislation. The positive thing about isomorphism is that it supplies a feeling of stability and viability. Along with this goes the thought that the familiarity with the way of organizing—everyone is doing the same thing, so we know what we are doing—contributes to the legitimacy of organizations. They all start to speak the same language and use the same imagery. We have seen this in the annual reports. It contributes to an easier understanding of these images and words. In this way, goals become clearer and a support can be created. Not everything needs to be explained as it is already familiar. Isomorphism becomes a necessity that enables the continuity of organizations. It removes the threats and creates rest, because the world is brought to a standstill. Meyer and Rowan claim that isomorphism is needed in order to be successful. This mainly concerns adapting to the environment. Success should be achieved by not trying to be different. This is also dangerous for isomorphism. On the one hand, maintaining the formal structure costs money. On the other, it is possible that various rules that isomorphism inflicts upon us conflict with each other, which makes a

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Introduction

fuzzy situation occur. This all has to do with the fact that myth can come from various parts of the organization. Meyer and Rowan thus conclude that: “These inconsistencies make a concern for efficiency and tight coordination and control problematic” (1977, 355). Isomorphism is thus not an instant formula for success. Another negative effect is that wanting to adapt to the environment can lead to all kinds of unwanted elements being added to the organization. Through this, financial dangers can occur. Meyer and Rowan see a solution in the case that an organization can partially disconnect itself from its surroundings, in other words it is only influenced partially. This functions as a sort of vaccine. However, the problem is not only its surroundings. Negative effects can also occur in the internal organizations. This coincides with trust. They do not want to question the myth—or the world, which has been brought to standstill. The solid is allergic to friction or movement. They want to trust it come hell or high water. This trust causes the control, through inspection, evaluation, and monitoring, to be minimized. Control more or less assumes that things are not going well. In other words, the world should be set in motion again. This is what the isomorphic organizations cannot handle. They hope to find the solution in the informal managing of coordination, dependency, and adaptations. Therefore, isomorphism is not always questioned. It is important that they pretend that everything happens to everyone’s satisfaction. Isomorphism thus undermines a critical attitude. It is not important that things go well, but that afterwards it can be proved that everyone stuck to the rules. It is trust against better judgement, or even against knowing. This keeps the isomorphic organization viable. Ratio becomes the legitimacy of failure. Another attempt at trying to explain isomorphism is by DiMaggio and Powell (1983). They started searching for the explanations, classifications, and advantages of myths, witnessing the struggle of organizations that try to be different while at the same time becoming identical. They would have expected organizations that want to be competitive would try to be different, that they would try to make use of their unique differences, and in this way draw the attention of customers to their products and services. The fact that organizations are becoming more and more isomorphic makes them wonder—maybe they do not want to be competitive? Why does this happen? Why is it that organizations that pretend to become more diverse are actually becoming more homogenized? “Once a field becomes well established, however, there is an inexorable push towards homogenization” (Ibid., 148). They also see this happening with textbooks, radio or commercial film. They also see that this is not

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something in which organizations really have a freedom of choice. “Once disparate organizations in the same line of business are structured into an actual field … powerful forces emerge that lead them to become more similar to one another” (1983, 148). In other words, they get stuck in an environment in which the playing field becomes smaller. They can try to change, but will notice that the power of the ratio and the bureaucracy sees to it that they become more and more homogenized. As already mentioned, this is not based on competition or efficiency. There are two kinds of isomorphism: competitive and institutional. The competitive is based on a free market without too many restrictions. The institutional is based on a broader view on organization in which political issues also play a part. This implies that it is not only about making profits, but also that non-productive elements are taken into consideration. In institutional isomorphism, according to DiMaggio and Powell, there are three alternatives. The first is forced isomorphism—this means having to adapt to the environment. The second is mimetic isomorphism—the copying of other organizations. The third is normative isomorphism—a process of professionalization. These kinds of isomorphism never appear in their pure forms, but only as a fusion of all three. Processes mingle. Forced isomorphism shows a formal as well as an informal pressure on the organizations to adapt. This is caused by depending on each other and by societal expectations. This can be related to legislation on the environment, taxes, or politics. “As a result organizations are increasingly homogeneous within given domains and increasingly organized around rituals of conformity to wider institutions” (1983, 150). Mimetic isomorphism is mainly directed by insecurity. The solution is seen in copying. “Modeling, as we use the term, is a response to uncertainty. The modeled organization may be unaware of the modeling or may have no desire to be copied; it merely serves as a convenient source of practices that the borrowing organization may use” (1983, 151). The modeling or copying can thus be subliminal as well as unwanted. A desire for uniqueness or originality is thus obstructed by mimetic isomorphism. Everything becomes the same, and whether this is a conscious choice or not is of no importance anymore. Enlargement of scale plays an important part, according to DiMaggio and Powell. The larger the organization, and thus its surroundings, the more organizations will become identical. There is no choice, in other words. This isn’t the case with the last type— normative isomorphism, which deals with the further professionalization of the organization. Regarding all this, we must realize that it is not about the organization as organization, but about the organization as appearance, or our

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Introduction

perception of the organization. This perception is much larger than the organization itself. It can be an appearance in film or as architecture. Organizations start to mirror each other through this. These appearances as a whole play a part in the becoming isomorphic of organizations, and can therefore not be viewed separately. The world of organizations thus becomes bigger, because the various disciplines like architecture and film play their part in organizations. This strengthens the becoming similar of organizations. “Organizations tend to model themselves after similar organizations in their field that they perceive to be more legitimate or successful” (DiMaggio and Powell 1983, 152). We have seen that this is a situation without a choice. What is peculiar, however, is that it takes place within similar kinds of organization, for instance companies with comparable products or clients. This clearly differs from what we have seen in the annual reports. In these, the kind of industry, product, or client makes no difference anymore. This means that isomorphism has become allencompassing. What DiMaggio and Powell furthermore emphasize is that not only are organizations subject to isomorphism, but also jobs coinciding with these organizations are becoming isomorphic. Through this, “interchangeable individuals” (1983, 152) appear. These can move from one to the other organization without any trouble. They contribute to the erasure of any possible differences between organizations. For organizations this has the advantage that they know who to hire. Surprises are excluded. This also means that for employees there is only one option—adaptation. This enables the possibility of “career-paths.” DiMaggio and Powell however stress the fact that these ideas are not grounded in any proof whatsoever: “It is important to note that each of the institutional isomorphic processes can be expected to proceed in the absence of evidence that they increase internal organizational efficiency” (1983, 153). Isomorphism doesn’t imply success, in other words, but is nevertheless unavoidable. Isomorphism is also strongly related to the fear of the unknown or the unreliable outside world. The myth is a reaction born of fear. This is a fear we have also noticed in the annual reports. It is fear that has to be repressed through isomorphism. This fear is coupled with a desire for certainty. They want to know for sure that they will be successful. The problem, however, is that success is unexplainably fickle. This is unacceptable for organizations and this is the reason they start to believe in myths. What arises is a fear of making the wrong decisions. As a remedy they cling to standards. International partnerships strengthen this desire for standards. They keep looking for “best practices.” They look for

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comparable examples of success in order to copy them. The fact that these examples are unexplainable does not mean that they are left for what they are. They rather cover up the risks involved. Through the clinging to standards and best practices the world does not become larger, but smaller. Everything becomes identical. Everything becomes a cliché. Resuming, we can state that isomorphism creates an imprisonment which seems to be all-encompassing, and from which a breakout seems impossible. DiMaggio and Powell therefore argue that we have to look for ways to regain diversity and try to stop the process of isomorphism, in which all organizations are caught. They propose further research: “An understanding of the manner in which fields become more homogeneous would prevent policy makers and analysts from confusing the disappearance of an organizational form with its substantive failure” (1983, 158). As mentioned, they do not disapprove of isomorphism by definition, but believe in a getting together of isomorphism and diversity. We can wonder about the impact of the work of DiMaggio and Powell. Mizruchi and Fein (1999) conclude that their work has grown to become one of the seminal works of organization studies. The fact that their ideas are so widespread raises the question—how has this impact shown itself? Have the ideas of DiMaggio and Powell been used in the way originally intended? Mizruchi and Fein conclude that it is especially the concept of mimetic isomorphism that has caught a lot of attention. Where does this dominance come from? Is it based on desire? They feel that the reason lies in its adaptability to the dominant discourse in North America. They argue: “Because mimetic isomorphism allows organizational researchers to examine environmental effects without the need to focus on coercion by powerful organizations, it is consistent with the type of theorizing that dominates contemporary organizational discourse in North America” (Ibid., 665). According to them, this is hardly the case in Europe. In North America, there is a strong belief in the hero, or the one that can become a hero through heroic behavior. In Europe, it is more about impotence or not being able to escape a certain situation. Fear cannot be overcome without the help of others. According to the authors, it is seemingly impossible to escape from these thought-patterns. We only see what we want to see. Mizruchi and Fein claim that copying in North America is more appealing than adaptation or professionalization. This copying results in a slow disappearance of the diversity of the various discourses. What happens is that a dominant discourse arises, which everyone tries to hold on to. Counter movements are only available on a marginal scale. These counter movements slowly lose their subversive potency and become

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Introduction

impotent. It is all about the distrust of the own identity and of not willing to be different. Apparently, organizations cannot handle singularities. Organizations are followers. They look at others and copy them. They are steered by best practices. On the one hand, this offers security, and on the other it is often a necessity as organizations depend on each other or have to do similar things in the name of legislation. They refer to DiMaggio and Powell’s argument that: “similarity has arisen not because of competition or an objective requirement of efficiency but rather as a result of organizations’ quest to attain legitimacy within the larger environments” (1999, 656). Nevertheless, it is relevant to point out that Mizruchi and Fein’s research is focused on theory. It is not about a research of organizations themselves, but of the ideas of organization scholars. The reason why organizations consider the image more important than their reality is a question that troubles Atkinson (2008). He specifically researches the way in which isomorphism shows itself inside the United States’ universities. He looks at things like the use of mission statements, the way in which architecture is used as an image, and the use of logos. His intention is: “to demonstrate how the perception of higher education institutions has become hyperreal” (2008, 28). He questions whether the creation of those images is what is best for the organization. How does the created reality deviate from the reality in which universities find themselves? In the part on textbooks, the relation is shown between education on the one hand and organization on the other. Now we notice that the cliché is not only limited to the textbook, but that the whole world of education is isomorphic. “Even today, higher education institutions model themselves after the most prestigious, well-established institutions” (2008, 29). It is thus all about prestige and the image of success, but not about success itself. According to Atkinson, this is mainly caused by fear and insecurity— the fear to be different, but especially to be misunderstood. The fear that the rest of the world does not understand the image you project. They want to persuade the rest of the world. “Image is the face we put on our organizations to convey to others what we look like” (2008, 30). The risk of failure is considered so big that thinking is excluded. The result is that thinking becomes obsolete or maybe even better—thinking is distrusted. The only important thing is to keep on following others. This is the copying of success, even though this success is unexplainable. The fact that this can be harmful for the company’s success is neglected. At least they have acted according to the rules. It is like the roundabout in the film Playtime (1967) by Jacques Tati, which will be discussed in chapter three.

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It is a roundabout that you can get on, but cannot get off. You’re caught on the roundabout. The world has come to a standstill. According to Atkinson, the element of chance is excluded: “there are so few thematic variations among the images that it is difficult to believe that this imagery happened by chance” (2008, 40). There is no such thing as chance in an isomorphic world. We should realize, however, that we are referring to images here. In their own reality, and not in the created reality, differences occur and probably have a unique character. This means that they are not the same, but present themselves in the same way. In their images, they imitate other organizations. This happens under the assumption that they will be successful. What they show in this way is that they can adapt to their surroundings quite easily. The question is if this adaptation is what they should be doing. This last question is not up for discussion anymore, as thinking itself is distrusted. The university buildings also play an important part. They show themselves as: “particularly old buildings, columns, arched doorways, and entryways, and the tops of old watch towers and bell towers …” (Atkinson 2008, 34–5). Tradition is important. The old, well-known images are perceived, at least in the eyes of the beholder, as determinative for the quality of the university. They see what they want to see and what they are familiar with. Atkinson claims that: “architecture acts as a shrine for events that impacted the world” (2008, 37). It is used as a container for a relevant and determining history. The image is created that the university was relevant and remains this way through the architecture. This suggests that present, past, and future fuse in this way. What worked in the past will probably work in the future. Besides that, everyone does it, and you can’t deviate from this norm. A new reality—Atkinson uses the term “hyperreality”—is constructed. The world that is presented is a beautiful and ideal one. A world in which everybody is happy and success awaits. This is similar to the ideas of Charles Jencks (2002), who believes that architecture represents a language that can be seen as code. The perception of architecture by the spectator, guest, or user is designated by the identification of the image with a certain code. Through the code, the building receives a meaning. The spectator understands what the building has in store for them. The problem, according to Jencks, is that many buildings, especially contemporary ones, do not possess clear codes. The spectator does not understand the message of the building anymore and thus has to make their own interpretation. The building represents, “a cosmogenesis, a process of unfolding and sudden emergence, a surprisingly creative universe” (2002, 1, italics in original). The time of repetitive clichés is gone, according to him. The architecture speaks an

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Introduction

enigmatic language that estranges itself from us. “The new paradigm in architecture develops the notion of heterogeneity in a viscous and layered way” (2002, 6). According to Jencks, the alienation is caused by the size of the architectural projects. They become too big and therefore too complex. “In short, buildings today are nasty, brutal and too big because they are produced for profit by absentee developers, for absentee landlords, for absent users whose taste is assumed to be clichéd” (2002, 12). This gap between architects, users, and contractors is the reason for the alienation of architecture. This also means that the supposed heterogeneity fuels the cliché. Old clichés are exchanged for new clichés. This results in an uninspiring rational standard. This should lead to an architecture that we can recognize and read more easily. This, however, is not the case, according to Jencks, because relevant differences, like those between offices and houses, disappear. We see the rise of multi-interpretable codes that are only confusing. This is the reason why, according to Atkinson (2008), universities start using traditional buildings again. These at least can be recognized through their codes. The fact that in the end they do not deliver what they offer is of a secondary nature. The user has crossed the threshold and believes they understand what they perceive. But how do these codes function? “People invariably see one building in terms of another, or in terms of a similar object; in short as a metaphor. The more unfamiliar a modern building is, the more they will compare it metaphorically to what they know” (Jencks 2002, 26). When perceiving a building we thus look for comparisons. We look for the thing we already know, because only that appears to be able to give us information on the code. Jencks sees danger in metaphors. He sees them as clichés that present themselves as knowledge, “the more the metaphors, the greater the drama, and the more they are slightly suggestive, the greater the mystery’ (Ibid., 30). They seduce us with the idea that we can retrieve information from them, but in reality they only veil themselves. They veil what is present. When questioning codes we also have to ask—to what extent are we able to perceive them? New codes are by definition strange and unreadable. We do not feel at ease with the unknown. We do not know how to handle new codes or how to read them. This can be considered the reason why, according to Atkinson (2008), university architecture falls back on tradition. They use the known because they know that they will not be understood otherwise. However (and Jencks misses this), an advantage of these unclear or unrecognizable codes is that they can be interpreted. On the one hand they are the soil for clichés—metaphors are

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clichés—but on the other hand they are the soil for new and unknown interpretations or uses. The way to use a building is not designated beforehand, and therefore offers space to the code. It becomes a seductive enigma. What is also relevant, according to Jencks (2002), is the locality of the code. Depending on its place, the code can have a certain meaning or can change this meaning. Furthermore, codes can have a subliminal influence and become internalized. This is the reason these codes influence the readability of architecture as well as the memories we have or can have of these buildings. This also makes them increasingly unexplainable. Jencks also mentions the difference between the language of architecture and of oral or written language. “Architecture as a language is much more malleable than the spoken language, and subject to transformations of short-lived codes” (2002, 34). This causes the following problem: “If architecture is to communicate as intended, it should avoid signs that have only one meaning and, secondly, it should be over-coded, using a redundancy of popular signs and metaphors to survive the transformation of fast-changing codes, and codes of the locale” (2002, 34). This implies that architecture is more flexible than spoken language and therefore has to be multi-interpretive in order to remain relevant. It is also claimed that architecture should adapt the language of its users. This last argument is comparable to the organization that is led by the outside world with the help of myths. Considering our thinking on clichés, we can question this. So, we have seen how the becoming identical of organizations knows a long tradition in organization studies. The ideas on isomorphism have shown us that it is mainly based on images. It is thus not that organizations are really the same, but that they present themselves in the same way. The idea of wanting to be identical is mainly fueled by fear and insecurity. This makes thinking obsolete. The chance of success is considered bigger with isomorphism or copying than with thinking itself. An important aspect with this is the use of the myth, which according to Barthes consists of a vague knowledge that brings the world to a standstill. In our thinking on isomorphism we have seen no alternatives. Is there another route we can take? This is a relevant question in this research.

Cliché But let us go back to the term “cliché” first. The impression may arise that cliché has only a negative connotation. This is not entirely the case. The position we can assume on the cliché is not a dichotomy. It is not about good or bad, but about the idea that the cliché has good or bad elements.

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Introduction

From a point of feeling a cliché is more negative than positive, but that doesn’t mean that clichés should play no part in organizations. As sketched in the annual reports, the problem is that clichés are the protagonists, and in my opinion this hampers the potency or possibilities of organizations. Organizations limit themselves if they only stick to clichés. The positive thing about clichés is that they supply recognition, offer the possibility of identification, and can be widely distributed (Harney 2003; Moore 2001). This makes influence and attraction possible. This furthermore implies that dominance is waiting. Other opinions or perspectives are suppressed or denied. The question we have to ask here is—what is denied? This also means that one cliché can suppress another. This can be caused by fashion, which can be related to management gurus and their models, methods, and convictions. If it turns out that one gururemedy doesn’t work, this means that it is time for a new one—in other words, a new remedy. What is crucial in this is the possibility of copying in order to achieve the expected results. This dominance is not without reason. It finds its necessity in the fact that management is dominant in our world (Harney 2003). This is caused by the all-encompassing distribution of management in our work, but also in our daily life. Management has penetrated our work, but also our private life. We are in a continuous world of management. It is everywhere. The moment that management presents itself in organization is already there: management discovers as it arrives that it was already there, that the socialization of management precedes it, that labor bears already management’s knowledge. No wonder when management tries to record this scene it sounds like it is repeating itself, stuck on its own surface, stuck in the circuit of the cliché. (Harney 2003, 589)

Management can only answer to the thing that is already present, and is therefore condemned to repetition, or in other words copying. The cliché is embedded in management. Management cannot escape the cliché. For management there is thus only one solution: “Left to repeat what is already completed, management can only utter the cliché, however, manically” (Ibid., 579). This leaves no time or space to think. We now have to ask ourselves what the impact is and how to handle this. Harney isn’t very optimistic: “Anyone who has ever tried to argue over a cliché knows it is impossible. Not reason but power conquers the cliché” (2003, 581). We cannot escape the cliché, in other words. Harney questions if management can ever escape this imprisonment.

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An advantage of the dominance of clichés lies in the idea that they create a collective memory, something which can result in an image of time. These created memories can be a powerful means to base arguments upon. The risk, however, is that we start leaning on them and become blind to whatever else there is. This results in a kind of trust where interpretation and possible alternatives remain absent. This blind use and acceptance of clichés is the ultimate means where we can act without thinking. We are not aware of the fact that we’re using clichés anymore, and grant the cliché a status of undisputed reality. The cliché is the truth that we start working with, and thinking things through no longer seems relevant. We have been convinced by the cliché and do not put it up for discussion anymore. Another cause for the seductiveness of clichés can be the aversion of banality or vulgarity. Something scares us and fills us with nausea. We would rather not know about it. We close our eyes to the banality and cherish the safe and pleasant silence of the cliché. It should protect us against the evil and threatening world on the outside. The cliché promises safety. It supplies clearness. We know how to act in a situation that we do not want to face. Thinking the situation through is unnecessary. The safety consists of the security considering the choice. This doesn’t mean that it is a pleasant choice or an appealing alternative. In the annual reports, we see a continuous fear for the outside world that has bad intentions in store for us. Even if we know that things are going well, we still know that it is a situation that cannot last forever. The present situation might be good, but something has to change fast, otherwise the consequences probably cannot be overseen. Misfortune is lurking. Change is needed. The future only looks prosperous as long as something is done about it. It has to change. The present cannot last forever. This is a cliché that forces us to change a present situation. It is not open for discussion. This is also embedded in the annual reports. In these, a situation is suggested of a constantly changing reality, of which we are part and which holds a serious threat for us. Only when we act and go along with the change are we able to cope with this threat. The cliché is considered a companion in the struggle against the evil and ungraspable outside world. It meets our desire to understand and comprehend. Can we then trust the cliché to be a loyal ally? Not altogether. The annoying thing is that clichés never deliver what they offer, and are mostly outdated expressions that give a romanticized image of a stubborn reality (Franke 1997). As an example we can think of the socalled self-help literature. These are books or other media that are concerned with helping people to take steps in their lives, which should

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Introduction

break through certain patterns. The same criticism however remains relevant. It is not just about taking certain steps or the desire to do this, but about the reason for taking these steps. Furthermore, it is about stepping from one cliché into the other. This, however, also implies that we should give clichés credit, because at least they give us an image of the world. They can help us to turn an unsatisfying situation into a workable one. This confronts us with another paradox. On the one hand, the cliché offers safety, and on the other it offers unease. The cliché can thus produce a solid situation—it fixes it, while at the same time it informs us that we need to change. What arises is a paradoxical zone of tension between safety and insecurity. What does this imply for us? The dominance of the cliché and thus the solidifying suggests change. Change should then lead to safety. This is like the roundabout you can get on, but cannot get off. The only option is to use the mould. It is about the idea that you do not have to think about what you should be doing in the moment when you do not know what to do. The problem, however, is that the mould does not offer what it promises, and that the pretended clearness is unclear. The next remedy is then the use of a new mould. Again, this emphasizes the fashionable character of clichés—in other words, their relation to time. What does this role of time mean, exactly? There are apparently more flows or images of time. In other words, there is time within time. This implies that there are various kinds of clichés—clichés shaped under the influence of certain fashionable outings, and clichés shaped by outings we can fix over a longer period of time. For instance, we can think of the long run and the short term. We can thus state that clichés are dominant in a certain period. The relevant question in this research is—why are we using these clichés? It is thus not only about the way in which the clichés presents themselves, but especially about the reason for using them. It is about the effect they cause. It is about a process in which we no longer think.

Deleuze Let us go back to the question of how and why clichés arise. In his books on film (1989; 1986), Deleuze deals extensively with this how and why. He looks at the conditions in which the cliché arises and develops itself. He looks at the reason why it is kept in maintenance and how it becomes relevant. He does this with the help of the history of film. The reason for this is that in film he recognizes the potency to open up the cliché and break through it. But what does Deleuze specifically consider a cliché? In his book Cinema 2 (1989, 20), he describes it as follows:

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A cliché is a sensory-motor image of the thing.

This image incites us to action without thinking about it. It is an automatic motor movement. We perceive something and feel from a certain habit what we have to do and this ignites action. This implies that the way in which we perceive is limited to what we want to see. Embedded in this is a premature fixed motor reaction. We have seen that the cliché makes thinking obsolete. But what is this thinking? When answering this question, Heidegger can be of assistance. In his work Gelassenheit (2008), he makes a distinction between the “rechnende denken” and the “besinnliche denken” (2008, 13), something we can translate as calculative thinking and contemplative thinking. The calculative thinking is caught in clichés. It is based on ends decided upon in advance and their accompanying means. We calculate how we can be successful. It is about mouldability. The calculative thinking is not really thinking according to Heidegger, although we are assuming that it is about thinking. Only when engaged in contemplative thinking are we really thinking. This kind of thinking is what we have unlearned. This is the thinking which is absent in organizations and which we want to bring back with the help of film. When I refer to thinking in this investigation, it is always to contemplative thinking. This is the kind of thinking that has become hidden from us. But why are we seduced by this image that turns off our thinking and why are we not able to choose other images? In order to explain this, Deleuze (1986) refers to the contemporary condition of man. This condition is made up of a perceived reality exemplified by a dispersed coherency with gaps. In other words, we do not understand anymore what is going on and we cannot retrieve a comforting reality from it. This leads to disorder, insecurity, and fear. That is why we hang on to clichés that supply consistency. They keep an inconsistent whole together. It is an image that we can cling to. This happens in such a way that this image becomes dominant. It rules the world we perceive. Deleuze describes it as follows: They are these floating images, these anonymous clichés, which circulate in the external world, but which also penetrate each one of us and constitute his internal world, so that everyone possesses only psychic clichés by which he thinks and feels, is thought and is felt, being himself a cliché among the others in the world which surrounds him. (1986, 208)

We are thus caught in clichés without our even noticing it. But this is not without reason, because besides the fact that we do not recognize them

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Introduction

anymore, they supply us with an explanation of a reality that becomes more and more confusing, and they see to it that this reality becomes more comprehensible and thus livable. The problem is that we confuse these clichés with the ideal images we strive for. We do not see the world behind or next to the clichés. We do not perceive what can be perceived. Deleuze states that clichés find their place in the so-called “hodological space.” This is a fixed space in which the path is laid out in advance. In this enclosed space we find means, ends, obstacles to overcome, the simple and easy route, the most effective language and the possibility to reach a maximum effect with a minimum use of means. We do not have to think in this space anymore. We only have to follow the path. These are conceptions that we have also found in our thoughts on the annual reports, such as teleology, transparency, and efficiency. Besides this space there is also a pre-hodological space. This is a totally different kind of space. There is a plurality of possibilities and no dependency on means and ends. There are no explanations through definition and there is a diversity of relations that cannot be simply grasped. But we have to notice that the enclosed space or the fixed route simultaneously creates a desire for deviation (ten Bos 2003). This implicates that working with the cliché summons its counterbalance. Thus, there is a continuous zone of tension that undermines the chosen route. We can ask ourselves in what way the images on which the clichés are based are created. To explain this, Deleuze refers to another French philosopher—Henri Bergson. Bergson claimed that we never see the complete picture of something, but only the part we want to see; or, to put it even more precisely, the part which it is in our interest to see (Deleuze 1989). This presupposes a conscious choice in the stipulation of our frame or field of sight. We can conclude that we actually do not see the image. The cliché hides the image from us. Our perception hampers our sight. We see what we want to see without our potency to think about playing a part. As we do not think, our choice for the frame is thus a choice programmed in advance. This non-choice in other words shapes the cliché. We can describe this as a limited image of reality, whereby the limitation is made by the pre-constructed frame. According to Deleuze, it is through this that we do not see things as they really are. We do not see anymore. These cliché-like images prevent us from seeing what is really there. This prevention causes people to no longer be in a position to make their own interpretations. These are taken away by the cliché. We do not see the things as they really are. This means that we are not able to read the situation anymore.

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What becomes relevant is learning to see again, learning to perceive again, learning to read an image again. We can consider reading as the same as thinking-through. We can conclude that this obviously does not happen anymore due to a desire to create a sense of security or due to carelessness. Still, this feeling also brings about an unexplainable feeling of restlessness. In spite of our accepting the cliché because we do not think about it anymore, there occurs a feeling of unease. [T]he image constantly attempts to break through the cliché, to get out of the cliché. (Deleuze 1989, 21).

We feel that there is something wrong. We are just not capable of finding out what it is. Out of an apparent complacency, of which we are unaware, we have accepted the situation. We do not see the reality anymore, but only a cliché-like copy of it. Fear and complacency shape our perception. They are the psychological conditions of the cliché. However, at the same time they give rise to uneasiness. Fear feeds fear. But why do we accept that we are squeezed into a mould? Why do we let ourselves become imprisoned? What is the seductiveness of the cliché? Why do we consider it acceptable that everything happens according to fixed routes, especially when these are routes we haven’t designed? How can we break through these clichés in which we are caught? Through our imprisonment in clichés we cannot act in the way we would probably want to. An alternative isn’t recognized, or seems impossible. We can state that this hampers the potency of organizations. Deleuze sees film as the only solution. This can show us the image that we are not able to see anymore. Therefore, I will further investigate the relation between film and cliché as it is laid out by Deleuze.

Film It is the world which looks to us like a bad film. (Deleuze 1989, 171)

In order to develop his thoughts on the cliché, Deleuze uses film. We can state that he is one of the few philosophers who has treated film in a serious way and has recognized its potency. In his work he reacts to Henri Bergson, who also used film but had a negative attitude towards it. Therefore, Deleuze starts his thoughts on Bergson in order to explain that the negative attitude towards film ignores its potency. For Deleuze, this potency is that film can put us in a position to regain our trust in our world. This is the rudimentary idea of the film books of Deleuze. By looking at film, reading the image, we see the world behind the facade of

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the cliché. We are offered the possibility to think it through and in this way regain our trust in this world. In his approach to film he makes an incision, he creates a dichotomy— not between the silent film and the talkie, or between the black and white and color film, but between what Deleuze describes as the classic and modern film. He argues that we can speak of the modern film from the moment Italian neorealism appeared after the Second World War. With this, the potency of film to show us a reality behind or next to the cliché was used. He calls this reality the “real-reality.” This implies that an escape from the imprisonment of the cliché was made possible. It is my intention to investigate this escape through the modern film, as he refers to it, and its accompanying taxonomy, and judge its usefulness for organizations. His taxonomy consists of a wide variety of terms that can be relevant for our thinking about the cliché, such as any-space-whatever, false continuity, or hyalosigns. With the help of these terms he develops thoughts on images, time, and movement. It is then that film uses its potency to break through the cliché with the use of a “shock to thought.” We can ask the question of whether other forms of art can do the same. Deleuze argues that other art forms would have probably already done so. The work of Deleuze shows a great love for film and we could probably suggest that his work on film is a grand exploration of the masterworks of the film history. We can simultaneously state that writing on film requests a love for film. It is about a subjective approach to film, a sort of immersion in the experience. In this case, film cannot be considered as an objective fact, but as something that has to be treated in a subjective way. This is comparable to the method of “maximum internalization” proposed by French philosopher Alain Badiou in his book on the twentieth century: “It is not the intention to diagnose the century as an objective fact, but as something that you have to treat in a subjective way and to understand it from its immanent call, as a category of the century itself” (2006, 16, own translation). It is not approaching film through the means of rational, objective, and measurable criteria, but in thinking it through. It is about using film to think things that were unthinkable before. We can view this method as using film as a thinking-object that can break through the cliché. Film consists of moving images that can also move us when we look at them. Looking can designate our mood, which probably depends on our experience of watching film. Our acquaintance with special imagelanguage as well as the moment in which we watch can play its part. In

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this way, the film can change through the way we look or the moment in which we look. It is capable of telling us something, or addressing us in its visual voice. The next question we can ask ourselves is—how does film speak to us? How have I allowed the film to speak? I am a film fan. This doesn’t mean that I like all films or find all of them interesting. It is mainly the modern films as described by Deleuze that use the potency that I’m interested in. It is about film as an art form instead of film that only serves as entertainment. It is the film that assumes a critical position against the cliché. These are films that have an arty perspective with a subversive kind of complexity. These are not the commercial blockbusters that loudly scream at us, confirm the aforementioned clichés, and sell illusions for realities. Carefully, we can position the modern film in opposition to the cliché film. When I say “carefully,” I mean that it is not a rigid dichotomy, but that they are in each other’s territory, and that this categorization doesn’t want exclusion, but a way to judge the difference. I will come back to this extensively later. In the cliché film, we see the worshipping of heroes, happy endings, a knowable and mouldable world, and a logical storyline. The modern film breaks through these clichés and shows us a different and more complete image of what we are used to. Heroes are not always what they pretend to be and their behavior is not always hero-like. Their actions do not always lead to a happy end and the storyline is often illogical. Watching film can be done in various ways. We can see something only once; we can see it as a whole or in fragments; we can look at the fragments in their original sequence or at random; we can look at something more often, even endlessly, and learn to discover new things over and over again. Plurality of the image-language of film can play a part in this. To what do we pay attention? Is it the plot? Is it the acting achievements? Is it the camera movements? Is it specific dialogues? Is it the locations and the way they are visualized? Is it originality? Is it the thrill? There might be many more questions we can ask in this perspective. A trademark of modern films is that they are multi-layered and can reveal new secrets over and over again. With this, the experience of looking plays a part. I have chosen to look at films many times and sometimes even frame by frame. The intentions of the director are also taken into consideration. I have tried to find out the thoughts behind the film, ideas that were there beforehand, or considerations for the production of the film that played their part. From the work of Deleuze, it appears that his own preferences and the artistic quality of the film have played a part. This goes for me as well. We could argue that a film, which has a personal preference,

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probably leads to another way of viewing. We could even state that it is especially these films that lead to a deeper kind of research. In this way, I have approached the film in a subjective way and allowed it to speak. It can be described as immersion in a film; in other words, letting the film have its way. This is something that film scholar Steven Shaviro (1993) prefers. He also claims that film was the most important art form of the twentieth century—in the twenty-first, this will probably remain the same. This all means that we shouldn’t approach film in an objective way, but immerse ourselves in the experience. Films should touch you in a subjective way. It is about films that can release feelings. The personal preference starts to play its role. If we think this line through, it implies that if you do not feel anything for a film it is unable to speak to you. This could happen because the film has nothing to say, or that the experience of the film and the viewer do not match. If we want to approach something in a subjective way, as Badiou (2006) suggests, it is thus necessary that we can be moved by something in order for it to speak to us. It becomes problematic when the personal preference is designated by clichés, which causes the senses to go numb, and where we do not think our perceptions through and through. We want a quick solution. This is, however, not what the modern film has to offer us. No—it wants to make us think. Obviously, the relation between film and organization has been investigated before (Hassard and Holliday 1998; Hassard, Holliday and Willmott 2000a; 2000b; Boozer 2002; Parker 2002; 2000; 1998). What is specific in Parker is the way he describes the visualization of organizations in film. Contrary to the positive images that dominate many books on organization, and especially the aforementioned guru-literature, the film draws a dystopic image of organizations. The leader and the organization picture evil in film and the good in management literature. What all these investigations however miss is the specific character of film. There is only attention for the representation of film and not for its potency. Furthermore, the specific difference between the classic and the modern film and its relevance in relation to the cliché is left unmentioned. In other words, in these researches the dominant influence of the cliché in organizations is left unnoticed.

Aesthetic Discourse Now we have seen the relevance of film, the following question occurs— what is the relation between the words and images in the annual reports and textbooks that shape the world of the cliché, and the words and images of the film that have the potency to break through the cliché? How can we

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compare these two worlds? How can we show in a convincing way that there is a connection between the images of the annual reports and textbooks and the images of the film? In what way can organizations learn from this comparison? In this research, I use discourse analysis, a research method that puts us in a position to connect various worlds in an unexpected manner. Words and images are not separate worlds but they interrelate with each other. The ways in which an image can be a word, or a word can be an image, play no specific part here. It is about the meaning or the effect, not about the definition. Words and images are in a continuous process. We can compare this with wanting to figure out the meaning of a work of art. You can look thoroughly, intensely, and long in order for it to open up its meaning. In other words, the meaning isn’t there in advance, but shows itself through investigation. This also implies that the investigation shouldn’t function as a mould, but that it needs room to breathe. This implies that during research, elements or concepts can introduce themselves as being sideways, and need to be investigated or treaded upon. A restriction is that they can support the research in a surprising and meaningful way. Discourse has been highlighted by the French philosopher Michel Foucault. In The Discourse on Language (1976), Foucault discusses the way in which discourse has become dominant and can cause inclusion or exclusion. I assume that in every form of society the production of the spoken and written word is controlled, selected and organized, and then redistributed among people. This all happens simultaneously and through the means of several procedures which have the task to undo the power and the dangers of the word, and to control the alienating aspect that is included, and to get rid of the oppressive and frightening aspect of it. (1976, 9–10, own translation)

According to Foucault, discourse has a regulating influence that is based on censorship. This supplies the aforementioned in- and exclusion. There are things that cannot be spoken about or of which speaking is even impossible because we cannot put it into words. The hidden truth accommodates danger, and with the help of discourse we want to exclude this. This also goes for chance, which the discourse tries to eradicate. It is important to notice that the discourse is not about what something is, but about the way it is put into words or images. The putting into words or images is what makes the difference, not what it really is. It is about the

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shape, not the content. Through this an appearance-reality arises, which we welcome as real. The censorship or the regulation of the discourse is, according to Foucault, also strongly embedded in pedagogy and the way in which publishers deal with the way knowledge is made available. Knowledge gains a financial and political value that becomes significant through its availability. This influences the various discourses. Everything is strongly tied to a will to knowledge—the urge to shape a conclusive story that isn’t open for discussion anymore. According to Foucault, we are looking for the certainty of the truth. According to Foucault, this will to truth knows an urge to “exercise a kind of dominant power” (1976, 17, own translation). This takes place in a way that has become invisible for us. We are not able to recognize this anymore. The discourse excludes us in this way. The discourse is always based on something that already exists. It is not a new discourse that arises, but the old one in a new shape. “The new is not shaped by what is said, but in the event of its recurrence” (1976, 23, own translation). It is about a new order of the existing, which we recognize as new through the already familiar. In other words, the discourse is based on clichés that persist continually, despite renewal. The discourse demands that we stick to its rules and language. We cannot deviate from the discourse in ways that will not be understood. Otherwise, the truth of the new statements will be doubted. Furthermore, the discourse isn’t open for everybody. The discourse is shaped by a certain group of participants. Not everybody is welcome. In order to participate in the shaping of the discourse you have to be an insider. Examples of this are the academic world or the medical world, just like the world of organizations or architecture. Within an organization the discourse isn’t open for everybody. Consuming is allowed, but production is only meant for a small and distinguished group. Foucault refers to a “discourse-community” (1976, 34, own translation). This, by the way, does not imply that the discourse is not familiar with boundary cases. This opens the subversive potency that challenges the discourse, but which isn’t able to prevent any isomorphic tendencies. The discourse remains uniform. This doesn’t imply that all the regions of the discourse are open: “all areas of the discourse are not in a similar way open and we are not always allowed an easy entrance. Some of these areas are strictly prohibited grounds … while others seem to be open without restriction for any speaking subject” (1976, 31, own translation). We have to realize that the discourse doesn’t open itself up very easily and doesn’t present itself as a readable whole, which only needs deciphering. It hides.

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It can be stated again that the discourse is not nicely limited and solidly whole, but continuously forms and deforms itself. In order to break through the power of the discourse three decisions are needed, according to Foucault. These are: “the renewed test of our will to truth, to turn the discourse into an event again; and lastly the abolition of the power of the signifying factor” (1976, 41, own translation). This should lead to our being able to think again and speak freely. It is looking for the mutilation of the discourse and its discontinuity. These should reveal other discourses that are oppressed or pushed aside. The discourses should be seen as discontinuous outings that meet each other, sometimes coincide, but at the same time can misunderstand or exclude each other. In other words, what we see is a continuous, active, and constantly intermingling assembly of discourses. When investigating the discourse we should, as mentioned before, realize that this is not a whole that reveals itself in an easy way. We should, as Foucault states, “not imagine that the world shows a readable body, that only needs deciphering” (1976, 42, own translation). The discourse is exemplified by a unique character that we can only investigate through the discourse itself. From the discourse, we learn about the conditions of the discourse. According to Foucault, there are four terms that should lead us when researching the discourse. that of the actual event, that of the sequence, that of the regularity and that of the conditions which makes the discourse possible. Each term stands, as we will see, in opposition to the others: event stands against creation, sequence against unity, regularity against originality, and condition against meaning. These last four terms (meaning, originality, unity and creation) have, broadly speaking, controlled the traditional history of ideas; we were as a matter of fact as one voice, looking for the moment of creation, looking for the unity of a product, a period in time or a theme, to the trademark of individual originality and to the inexhaustible treasure of hidden meanings. (1976, 43, own translation)

Foucault is looking for the coincidence, the discontinuity, and the materiality. These cannot be found before or after the discourse, but inside. With this, we should realize that there can be unforeseen side effects between cause and effect. The coincidence, the discontinuity, and the materiality play an important part. We are thus interested in the way the discourse shapes itself and how we can reveal what is hidden. How the event, the sequence, the continuity, and the conditions show themselves. Specifically for this research, this implies how the cliché in the discourse

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manifests itself. How it gets its shape, why it escapes our perception, and how we can make it visible in relation to the non-cliché. In order to get insight into this, we are returning to discourse analysis in organizations. We have to ask ourselves how we can describe this method. The name of the method already explains a lot. It is the analysis of discourses in or about organizations. Discourse can be regarded as language. This doesn’t mean that it is a language that restricts itself to written or spoken words, but language in its broadest sense. It is about words, but also about images or sounds—basically about all that accomplishes human communication. We can claim that discourse analysis is not a tightly limited whole, but a method that keeps developing itself continuously (Grant et al. 2005; 2004). It is a method that resists limitation to a mainstream. Opinions that make criticism impossible (Rhodes 2005). Rhodes puts this problem very precisely in the first sentence of his book review: “What is the relationship between the world and the word?” (Ibid., 793). How can we explain the world in language, or how can the world reveal itself as language? That is the question we are confronted with when wanting to investigate the cliché in organizations. The specific thing in this research is that language not always consists of words only, but also of images and, to make it even more complex, moving images. This answers the thought that discourse is exemplified by multi-vocality (Grant et al. 2005; 2004). This multi-vocality sets the tone. The discourse is exemplified by a multiplicity of voices that together shape an indistinguishable whole. Foucault states that the discourse is one balanced, solid story. It searches for one solid truth. In order to research it, we have to look for insight in this hiding multiplicity. The voices that we cannot hear anymore, or that have been silenced, should be heard again. It is the reference to the voices that makes it instantly clear that the discourse is more than just written words. It is the getting together and the colliding of an inexhaustible diversity of voices that express themselves in words, images, and sounds. A getting together that is moving continuously and which is in a constant process of becoming. Rhodes (2005) compares the possibilities of discourse analysis with a chameleon that constantly adapts itself to certain situations. This flexibility is offered to us by the method and is necessary for investigating the cliché. We can describe the method as, “the structured collections of texts embodied in the practices of talking and writing (as well as a wide variety of visual representations and cultural artifacts) that bring organizationally related objects into being as these texts are produced, disseminated and consumed” (Grant et al. 2004, 3). This broad definition offers us the

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possibility to go in every possible direction, and this is also the danger of the method, because, as Rhodes stated, “discourse is everything and everything is discourse” (2005, 797). Because it is everything, it is nothing, and this would mean that the method is unusable or without meaning. This, however, is not the case. It is not really about a static definition, but about a method that is in a constant state of renewal, just like the world is constantly renewing itself. Bryman et al. (2011) confirm that discourse analyses opposes a solid state. According to them, it is more about an “analytic mentality” (416). It is looking for the meaning of something that hides. This also goes for that which is not there, like the silence in a conversation or the idea that something happens in a specific way, which excludes another way. It is thus about having a broader view on the things happening before us. According to Bryman et al. (2011), details play a crucial part. This implies that because of this it becomes unclear what the limitations of the research method are. In other words, the research never ends. Someone who assumes a critical position in this is Norman Fairclough (2005). He opposes the idea that organizations are only shaped by discourse, because he states that there are also influences from nondiscourse as there is, for instance, the solid structure of organizations that also influence the way in which organizations shape themselves. In other words, he opposes the opinions of Mumby and Clair (1997, in Bryman et al. 2011, 424), who state that: “organizations exist only in so far as their members create them through discourse.” Fairclough is in favor of an: “approach that centers on the tension between organizational discourse and organizational structure” (Bryman et al. 2011, 424). With this, he disposes of Foucault’s theory that states that everything is shaped and designated by discourse. According to Foucault, discourse is not something which is supplemental to solid structures. These solid structures which shape the cliché are identical to discourse, which only consists of a shape without content. Mills, Durepos, and Wiebe (2010) point out that the term “discourse analysis” is in itself of little value. It is important to name the sort of discourse. An example of this is the addition “critical,” which specifically deals with the non-neutral role of the researcher and is free of context. It opposes the idea of one single objective truth. The so-called truth depends on the context and the researcher, according to critical discourse analysis. Another description of critical discourse analysis is that it: “emphasizes the role of language as a power resource that is related to ideology and socio-cultural change” (Bryman et al. 2011, 423). Bryman et al. emphasize how the various discourses deal with each other in relation

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to organizations and how this can change over time and be dominant, “why some meanings become privileged or taken for granted and others become marginalized” (Ibid., 426). In this, the so-called “text” plays a part. We can describe text as the various forms of expression that influence our behavior, like written or spoken language, image-language, and non-verbal communication or the lack thereof. It is about the discovery of what there is and what is going on and has been going on through words and images, in whatever form. In principle, text equals language for us. Language creates the image of reality and images create language (Mills, Durepos, and Wiebe 2010). It is even stated that without language there is no knowable reality for us. There is only meaning. “Consequently, one cannot seek ‘true meanings.’ One can only elaborate how meanings are produced, foregrounded, marginalized, and shaped by social interaction that leaves its evidence in language” (Ibid., 306). The most important is the influence that discourse has on our social life. It is not only an observation of what is going on, but especially a process of giving meaning. “In other words, discourse does not just provide an account of what goes on in organizations; it is also a process whereby meaning is created” (Bryman et al. 2011, 426). With this, the term “intertextuality” is also of importance—in what ways do the various forms of “text” interact with each other? They can be visible or invisible. Both movements are important for our research into cliché. It is about making those things visible that normally remain hidden, like the things we no longer put up for discussion because they are too obvious. This also includes the research of complexity and contradictions. Now, it is not very difficult to imagine that annual reports or textbooks are created realities, just like films. We have already seen this in the section on isomorphism. However, what is at stake is the way in which these created realities occupy us, and whether or not they make us think or amuse us with clichés. It is about the possibilities and the potency of those media. Discourse analysis offers a unique possibility to investigate these worlds and compare them with each other (Grant et al. 2004). It is about, “how the daily attitudes and behaviors of employees of organizations, together with their perceptions of what they experience as reality, are being shaped and influenced by discursive practices in which they participate and which they are exposed or subjected to” (Ibid., 3). It is about perception—what we perceive, and how we are influenced and shaped by this. In principle, perception becomes more important than language. It is not only about the potency of language, but especially about

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the way in which these things that produce meaning can get in touch with us, or how we are able to offer them the possibilities to get in touch with us. We can state that discourse or various discourses are everywhere around us continuously, and that a part of it reaches us, or is being used by us in order to create a reality. What reaches us and how does it reach us? What doesn’t reach us and in what way is our reality hampered by this? This also implicates that the reality is subject to constant change and is only temporarily maintainable. The analysis of the various interfering discourses is therefore never final. “Thus, there can never be only one discourse that characterizes an organizational setting. Nor is there ever a definitive reading of organizational discourse” (Ibid., 14). We can therefore regard organizations as containers. The architectonic aspect of the organization becomes visible again. This calls for a short remark—we can speak of containers but we should realize that these containers are not a completely sealed off. They are not isolated from their surroundings. They exist in a continuous interaction with their surroundings in a process of mutual influence and shaping. Critical discourse analysis investigates this interaction (Grant et al. 2004). It wants to gain insight into the regulation and controlling of influential processes. Critical discourse analysis looks for those limitations and possibilities in relation to the shaping of an organizational reality. It has already been pointed out that this situation is not always very clear, but that it is exemplified through saturation and opacity. Furthermore, it is a situation that is strongly related to hosophobia (ten Bos and Kaulingfreks 2001). What is the effect of this hosophobia that tries to erase all dirt in organizations? Will it be hygienically clean or does it remain stained, messy and influenced by infection? This opacity is characterized by solid convictions and through clichés. These are very difficult to get rid of. Mills (1993, 134) describes them as, “taken for granted, more-or-less unconscious meta-understandings about the way things are achieved in society.” This is grounded in the way organizations started and developed as copies of what they already were. These isomorphic urges are related to their leaders and entrepreneurs, according to Mills. “As entrepreneurs and organizational leaders sought to replace themselves with functionaries it was almost to be expected that they would choose those who most resembled them in thinking and organizational commitment” (1993, 135). We can also find this in education: “The language of organizational discourse is reinforced through a number of disciplinary practices through which youngsters are ‘schooled’ for their role as (gendered) organizational subjects” (1993,

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137). Here we also see the strong relationship between organizations and education and the way in which clichés are institutionalized. A promising position is taken by Laine and Vaara (2007), who believe that the dominance of a certain discourse calls for so much resistance that it eventually doesn’t function anymore because there are too many side effects. They assume that because of the stubbornness and obstinateness of employees, certain strategies won’t work. According to them, a resistance against clichés occurs. They speak of a: “discursive struggle perspective” (30). According to them, this resistance is a dynamic process. In other words, the discourse goes in two directions. It institutionalizes and it undermines. It provides order and resistance. This means that there is never a uniform situation, but a dispersed one in which a certain discourse is or tries to be dominant. This research is therefore not only focused on the dominant discourse, but also on the enclosed subversive potency. What we are looking for is this subversive potency and its relation to the cliché. Therefore, it is important that we realize that with this research there are always two directions. We move from the annual reports and the textbooks to the film and vice versa. It is the search for spaces in which we can maneuver (Laine and Vaara 2007). The hidden elements of the discourse play a part as well because, “not all discursive action is fully conscious or intentional” (Laine and Vaara 2007, 52). In other words, we are not always aware of what we are doing. Therefore, we want to make the invisible visible, and the all-too visible invisible. When we refer to the invisible it is mainly to things that are not included in the world of thinking about organizations—those things that are excluded through clichés, those that are outside the myth that is shaped through ratio. This brings us to aesthetics. Do we consider something beautiful or not? This deals with the impressions from which our senses cannot be shut off, but that nevertheless play a part in organizations, even though they are excluded from the organizational-discourse. In his book Organization and Aesthetics (1999), Antonio Strati describes the example of sound and how it fills up the space of the organization. We cannot exclude sound. It influences our acting. An organization does not have ears, yet still we hear sound. How do we give meaning to this in our thinking about organizations? Strati notices that organizations want to exclude the corporeal and thus the sensual. This implies that there is an idea of employees only perceiving what they should perceive. For instance, they hear only what they should hear. These should be sounds whose only relevance is there for the functioning of the organization. An aesthetic choice is superfluous. In reality, however, this is different from this idealized situation, according to

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Strati. The reality sees to it that, “the lived experience of organizational actors is crucial to the proper understanding of organizational life” (12). This is about the corporeal experience and how it influences us through our senses. We should realize that it is not only about conscious experiences or knowledge, but also about the subliminal. Those things that escape our conscious perception, but which nevertheless influence or direct us. It implies, according to Strati, that the aesthetic view on organizations should take into consideration that our perception is socially constructed: I stress that the sensory faculties referred to by the aesthetic approach to organizations are not so much the faculties innate to human perception as the educated and sophisticated ones developed by processes of social and collective construction. This is principally because aesthetic judgements have their own history; they are fashioned by complex social negotiations and they are much less immediate than is commonly believed. (1999, 46)

In other words, we are not free in our sensual experiences. This means that even our feelings are caught in clichés. The interpretation of the aesthetic dimension is therefore extremely complex, because we never know exactly whether someone is or isn’t influenced. We do not know if someone is free in their sensual experiences, or if they are pre-determined. This does not mean that we can neglect them, according to Strati, but he stresses the importance of this aesthetic dimension of organizations: “organization aesthetics do not constitute an imaginary terrain of peace, harmony and love. On the contrary, I have repeatedly stressed that they are subject to social conflict in organizations, to the violence of corporate cultures, to the power of the dominant coalitions in organizational life” (1999, 75). They are not harmless or without engagement, but are distinctive in organizations and the way in which organizations function and shape themselves. The exclusion of the aesthetic dimension results not only in the fact that we do not get a complete image of organizations, but also in a deformed image that lacks a determinative essence. Aesthetics is a part of life. When researching the organizational aesthetics, it is always about the deviations and differences. Or, as Foucault mentioned, it is about chance, discontinuity, and materiality. We should realize that these are never detached things, but are always enveloped in a bigger picture. There is no detached aesthetic dimension. It is part of sustained experience. “This is a crucial feature of the aesthetic understanding of organizational life: a form of knowledge tied to experience and immanence, to nuances and details, to the sensible and worldly, to the construction and reconstruction of lived

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experience” (Strati 1999, 80). Tacit knowledge plays an important part. It implicates that goal-orientation becomes impossible. Goals are, according to Strati, connected to a conscious knowledge that can be shared. The subconscious disrupts the goal-orientation. We do not know what is going on exactly and therefore cannot make any predictions. We are constantly surprised. This also goes for discourse analysis in its totality. We are continually surprised. A rigid and linear goal-determination therefore becomes impossible. An accompanying complexity is that of the visibility and invisibility. It is about making visible that which is not immediately visible, but which has a dominant presence. It is about comparing an accepted world, the world of the cliché, with the representation of a world that has become invisible for us—a world that film can show us. I will compare the dominant discourse of the annual reports and the textbooks with the discourse of film. We have already seen that the discourse does not imply no resistance against this discourse. This resistance is always present, it just lacks the power to change the dominant discourse. It can be stated that the dominance of clichés does not mean that there are only clichés. This is not the case. They exist and appear next to each other. It is always a mixture of cliché and non-cliché in which the cliché is nevertheless always dominant. The cliché tries to push aside the singularity or deny it. Therefore, it is important that the dominance of isomorphism, the dominance of the cliché, is challenged by film in order to bring back thinking in organizations. What is nevertheless made clear in the work of Strati is that the method that will be used in this research can be described as aesthetic discourse analysis. In other words, I will use aesthetic discourse analysis to investigate cliché in organizations.

Investigation Together with his colleague Felix Guattari, Deleuze had the opinion that it is philosophy’s task to develop concepts (1994). They consider concepts as the means to gain new experiences and new insights. This should enable new ways of thinking about reality (Stagoll 2005). Concepts are not solid but dynamic, and consist of variables that are needed to use concepts under the influence of time and place. Concepts cannot be thought of as separate from their conditions. They are needed to get to new ways of thinking and are therefore crucial to break through clichés. Clichés can be considered as the opposite of concepts. They are anti-concepts. There are no dynamics, time and place have no influence on the cliché, and the conditions play no part. They are solid and eliminate new experiences and

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insights, and make thinking obsolete. New concepts are needed, in other words, so new ways of thinking about organizations can arise and have room to breathe. In Deleuze’s research on film, it is all about the development of concepts: “A theory of cinema is not about cinema, but about the concepts that cinema gives rise to and are themselves related to other concepts corresponding to other practices …” (1989, 280). This is not about the idea that philosophy can make a contribution to film, but that philosophy needs film and its concepts in order to gain insight into certain things: “we must no longer ask ourselves: ‘What is cinema?’ but ‘What is philosophy?’ Cinema itself is a new practice of images and signs, whose theory philosophy must produce as conceptual practice” (Deleuze 1989, 280). How did I investigate the cliché? From my findings after reading the annual reports, textbooks, and my research into isomorphism, I studied the film books of Deleuze, together with the accompanying secondary literature. After that, I delved into the history by watching and studying a great number of films. What plays an important part in film, but also in the work of Deleuze and definitely in organizations, is space. Organization obviously never takes place in a vacuum, but happens often or probably most of the time in spaces. These spaces can be offices, private rooms, cars, airports, planes, or train-wagons. What the relation between space and cliché is is a question that cannot be neglected. Therefore, I have jumped into the world of architecture. I have done this through theory as well as through the observation of many different buildings. Lastly, I returned to the world of organizations. With the help of film images I have looked at certain implications and appearances. The keywords for this research are: cliché, Deleuze, film, space, and organizations. Based on these keywords, four questions can be formulated that will be answered in separate chapters: What are the thoughts of Deleuze on cliché in relation to film? What does film show us according to the insights of Deleuze? What is the role of space in film and what does this mean for the way organizations find their shapes? What is the relation between these insights and organizations and their being caught in cliché? Along with these four question, there are always three sub-questions: What are the clichés to break through? How does this make us think? What does this have to do with organizations? In the first chapter on Deleuze and film, I will describe his taxonomy and the way he looks at film. I will go into the dichotomy between the classical and modern film and what, according to him, is the essence of the difference between these two. I will deal extensively with the potency of film and in what way this can break through cliché. In the second chapter,

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I will discuss three films with the concepts and taxonomy from Deleuze, and will clarify their relation to cliché. The third chapter deals with the space created by film, or in other words the space of organization. Specifically, I will deal with the relevance of this space and how it is created as well as its relation to organization, for instance in the appearance of an office. In this, a central issue is the concept of living and the way it was developed by German philosopher Martin Heidegger, and its further development by another German philosopher, Peter Sloterdijk. A part will also be played by architects like Frank Lloyd Wright and Rem Koolhaas, along with their thoughts on the creation of spaces and living. The last chapter deals with organization and especially its relationship with cliché from the opinions as they have been shaped in the previous chapters. Once again, living plays an important part here, this time in relation to boredom. Furthermore, we will have a look at the role of the manager. I will close with conclusions and by answering the questions mentioned earlier. Each chapter will be introduced by a reading of a passage from the movie The Big Lebowski (1998). The choice of this film is based on the fact that it carries the various elements of our thinking about film and cliché. It is also an example of the way we can read a film and the various entrances through which we can enter and explore.

CHAPTER ONE DELEUZE AND CLICHÉ

1.1 Introduction In this chapter I will investigate the potency of film. I will try to find out how film can make us think and how this is related to the cliché. For this, I will make use of the film books of Deleuze and their accompanying taxonomy. I will go into the elements of the image, frame, shot, and montage, and into the different kinds of images that play a role in film, namely the perception image, the affection image, and the action image. I will go into the history of film and the reason why a crisis occurred that enabled the potency of film being used, and which is therefore crucial in our thinking about the cliché. With the help of the work of Japanese director Akira Kurosawa, I will go into the reading and understanding of the plot. The potency of film to break through the cliché will be explained with the help of terminology like hyalosigns, or crystal-image and the “power of the false.” I will end with thoughts revolving around trees and rhizomes as they have been developed by Deleuze and Guattari (1987). Doing this, I will use a few characters from the film The Big Lebowski. Each chapter starts by dwelling on a part of this film, because I consider The Big Lebowski exemplary of what Deleuze tries to make clear about the cliché. In this film, it becomes clear how clichés function, why and when we use them, and the way in which we find that they do not deliver what they promise.

1.2 The Big Lebowski (part 1) The Big Lebowski is the seventh film from the Coen Brothers, who became famous with films like Fargo (1996), The Hudsucker Proxy (1994), and recently No Country for old Men (2007) and Burn after Reading (2008). They are well known on the one hand for their waywardness, but surely also for their cinematographic qualities, like their scripts, dialogue, and photography. Their signature style is characterized by an intellectual profundity that puts the cliché on trial. Their much-discussed film The Big

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Lebowski (Tyree and Walters 2007; Green et al. 2007; Woods 2003; Cheshire and Ashbrook 2002; Körte and Seeslen 1998; Cooke 1998) might be a mystery, a comedy, or a tragedy. It is hardly possible to categorize it or file it under a certain genre. This refers to characteristics of the modern film, which shows a world that cannot be indicated. It lacks a distinguishability, which makes it easy to understand. Nothing is what it seems to be. Our expectancy patterns and grip are put to the test. It can be argued that filing something in a certain category diminishes the eloquence of the film. It can even be claimed that the category or the genre is a mould that shapes the cliché. The film starts with a blackened screen, accompanied by country and western music. Slowly, a prairie-like surrounding with a rolling tumbleweed appears. The camera explores the surface. We hear a cowboy voiceover introducing the story. He talks about a person who calls himself the “Dude”: There was a lot about the dude which didn’t make a whole lotta sense to me, and a lot where he lived likewise. But then again maybe that’s why I found the place so darn interesting

Obviously, the cowboy is not able to make clear who the Dude is, or where he lives. The cowboy assumes that this is the reason he finds the place interesting. Apparently, there are no more certainties in the world of The Big Lebowski. We follow the tumbleweed further and further and notice a lit-up LA from above. We see the city of angels as a city by night, which is artificially lit and showing the grid-like street-pattern. The tumbleweed follows its course through deserted streets, offering the image of a Western city that pretends to be contemporary. The time is out of joint and the place is impossible to indicate. The tumbleweed arrives at the beach and it is there that its journey ends. Something similar to that of the settlers who were looking for their prosperity and ended up in LA, which made the city a melting pot of various cultures and desires. After a journey through a deserted LA, the camera moves to Ralph’s, a local convenience chain store. We move in from the outside. We witness a shelf with artificially lit dairy products. Place as well as time are anonymous. A person slowly shuffles by. He is dressed in a bathrobe and flip-flops. His gaze is hidden by shades. Inconspicuous, he looks around, inspects a carton of milk, opens it, and takes a sip. We get the impression that this is the Dude. Meanwhile, the voiceover continues its thoughts on the Dude:

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Sometimes there’s a man, I won’t say a hero, cause what’s a hee-ro … but sometimes there’s a man, and I’m talking about the Dude here … sometimes there’s a man, well … he’s the man for his time and place … he fits right in there … and that’s the dude … in Los Angeles and even if he’s a lazy man … and the dude was most certainly that … quite possible the laziest in Los Angeles county, which would place him high in the running for laziest worldwide … but sometimes there’s a man … sometimes there’s a man … well … lost my train of thought here ….

The cowboy loses the train of his own thought. Why? Is it because the story is too weird to explain? Is it because the cowboy has trouble describing a person, whose appearance is the opposite of what we are probably used to? Does this disable his speech? Is it because the time of the cowboys and their heroic behavior is over? Is the loss of the capability to argue the first symptom? The cowboy points out that the city of LA does not just have a meaning, but that if something goes for LA, it goes for every place. Everything looks like LA and LA resembles the rest. The relevance of a specific place is interchangeable and therefore disappears. Meanwhile, we see the Dude standing at the cash register, writing a cheque for $0.69. The cashier looks bored. Back home, the Dude, unsuspecting, is awaited by two thugs. They threaten him, use physical force and urinate on his rug. They want to collect money from the Dude. Money that his wife owes them. The Dude manages to convince them that they have the wrong guy. He does not have a wife. He states: “Does this place look like I’m fuckin’ married? The toilet seat’s up, man.” This convinces the thugs, upon which they leave. The camera moves to a bowling alley and shows a strange assemblage of bowlers and their rituals. The world of the bowling alley is shown as a specific culture. A world that is excluded from the exterior world through walls, just like the previous convenience store. The physical border of the wall enables people to practice and cherish their own rituals. That is what happens in the bowling alley. It pretends to be a safe environment. Cut off from a daily, grim, threatening, and hopeless reality. It is here that we see the Dude again, together with two of his bowling buddies, Walter Sobchak and Donny. The Dude tells of his encounter with the gangsters. A lively discussion starts and attention is drawn to the fact that one of the thugs

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was Chinese. Walter claims: “The Chinaman is not the issue.” What is the issue, according to him, is the other Lebowski, the one whom the Dude is mistaken for, the one who apparently owes money to the thugs. It is Walter’s opinion that their behavior and even the whole situation is unacceptable. I’m talking about drawing a line in the sand, across that line you do not ….

There are boundaries and there are rules, and people should stick to them, otherwise …. What that otherwise is, remains unclear so far. The Dude doesn’t seem to get what is going on around him, however Walter seeks and finds this clarity fast. He knows what the situation is and how to act. For him, there is a solution for everything, just like every situation should be explainable. Donny doesn’t play any role of significance. All his remarks are met by Walter’s mantra: “Shut the fuck up, Donny.” Thanks to his faith in rules and order, he considers the term “Chinaman” inappropriate. “Asian-American please,” he responds to the Dude, who answers: “This isn’t a guy who built the railroads, here.” Times have changed, and the time in which the Chinese in America only worked on the railroads is over. In these times they are not working for society per se, but can turn against it. Or is the whole society turning against itself? What has remained of what was once there? How have the times changed and how can we get to know them? Who is who he really is?, seems to be the question. Chinese aren’t Chinese anymore, and Lebowski is apparently someone else. Walter convinces the Dude that he should obtain compensation from the “Big Lebowski,” the person the kidnappers confused him with. He should pay for the damage done to his rug. We see the Dude meeting “the other Lebowski.” He is in a wheelchair and greets the Dude, stating: “Ok you’re a Lebowski, I’m a Lebowski.” His namesake is apparently a successful and wealthy businessman, who despite the fact that he is stuck in a wheelchair knows what life has in store for him and what makes the world go round. If we look to the physical differences between them, we can wonder who is “Big”—the one standing up, or the one in the wheelchair? Here, embodiment is obviously not strictly related to material success. The Big Lebowski considers himself to be a success and makes this clear immediately. He is busy, does not let himself be fooled and, according to himself, has a quick mind. He considers the Dude a “bum” and of no use to society, contrary to himself. “I didn’t blame anyone for the loss of my legs, some Chinaman took them from me in Korea, but I went out and achieved anyway,” he

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claims. Again, it is a “Chinaman” crossing his path. The reason the Dude looks him up is because of the actions of a Chinese person, just like him being in a wheelchair is the action of another Chinese person. Their name unites them more than they probably suspect. The Chinese are apparently not only in China anymore. The borders have blurred. Walter’s remark that: “The Chinaman is not the issue” suddenly gets a whole different meaning. On the one hand there is a world in which the Chinaman doesn’t play a significant role. On the other, the Chinaman does play a significant role. Could it be that Walter’s clarity is not clear? We are confronted with a world that not only seems to be unknowable, but at which we need to look very thoroughly and perhaps more than once in order to be able to give it any sensible meaning. In the next scene we see the Dude back at the bowling alley, talking about his experiences to Walter and Donny. The safe surroundings of the bowling alley, in which a culture of relief, friendship, and sport can be realized, now turns into a world of intrigue and plot. The threat comes in from the outside. The boundary blurs. There is discussion about what could or could not be possible or what could be the reason for some of the recent events. We notice few traces of friendship. It remains unclear who these characters are and what their backgrounds or motives could be. Furthermore, we get the impression that they do not open up to each other, or that they are perhaps a puzzle to themselves. It is as if they are being driven on by events and chances, which are given a value or argumentation afterwards. The guiding principle is the incident to which they adapt, as opposed to a goal-orientation and well thought-through choices. It is a world in which rules and rituals need to be adapted to the incident. During their conversation, Walter notices how a member of the other team steps over the line during the game—at least according to his perception. The man in question, Smokey, has a different view on this. An argument starts between Walter, who has seen the mistake, and Smokey, who denies the allegations. Walter tries to motivate his position, but how can you prove you’re right? Walter, who is someone who believes in straight lines between good and bad and an ethical claim to this, now reveals himself as someone who believes strongly in the rules of the game and will use every means possible to respect these. An argument that it doesn’t matter, because it’s just a game, does not convince him. He informs Smokey, “You’re entering a world of pain,” whips out his gun, and points it at him. The choice is up to Smokey to admit his mistake or to enter a world of pain. To stress his point, Walter stands up, using his corporeality as another weapon, and screams: Has the whole world gone crazy?

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Chapter One Am I the only one around here who gives a shit about the rules?

Smokey backs down. Walter puts the gun away and declares that he sticks to the rules because it is an official game. He leaves together with the Dude. The police has been informed, and where Walter refers to the rules, threatening with a firearm is also an obstruction of the rules. Thus, it is not just a game and sticking to the rules is not possible without coercion and without breaking other rules. Apparently, there are various rules from various worlds or realities. The idea of wanting to stick to those rules has unwanted side effects. The Dude tries to transmit his life-motto, “just take it easy, man,” to Walter. He, on the other hand, considers himself to be “perfectly calm.” Again, we see the Dude visiting the Big Lebowski, because now his wife has been kidnapped. This was probably done by the same gangsters who previously visited the Dude. The Big Lebowski is seemingly moved by this. The Dude is asked to negotiate with the kidnappers. He tells his new adventure to Walter and Donny in the bowling alley. Another heated discussion unfolds there. The Dude tries to convince Walter that it is all just a game and that she has probably kidnapped herself in order to get the ransom. Again, they are confronted with a game. Is their world spinning around games or do they like to hide in games? The plot gets thicker and thicker through the stacking of incidents that are hard to explain. The characters remain unclear. Nobody is obviously who he is and nothing is as it seems. We see that it is strange and laughable. Not because it is a film, but because the world we live in is strange and laughable.

1.3 The Appearance of Film (part 1) Nothing is what it pretends to be. This seems to be the motto of The Big Lebowski. The characters find or get themselves in situations that are strange—not just for the viewer, but also for themselves. Still they act as if they know what to do. It is a world that is unknown or unknowable, but in which action is still required. Doing nothing seems to not be an option. We see the actions being directed by the cliché-like thoughts of Walter. He believes in clarity and in the drawing of lines on what can and cannot be done. Despite him being convinced of his own opinions and actions, we see how things get out of hand. Apparently, the artificial clarity as expressed in the drawing of a line that creates a boundary, and leads to more confusion. The boundary becomes obsolete. There is something going on in which a standard script for acting is insufficient.

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Deleuze also sees a world that is unknown to us, and in which we do not know how to act anymore. The only solution seems to be holding on to clichés and trusting them. These designate the act we imagine for certain situations. In other words, the cliché tells us what to do. In The Big Lebowski we see that these clichés do not work (anymore). They do not keep their promises. They are misleading because the solutions they offer malfunction. Through this we lose our connection to the world. More or less, we are becoming dispossessed. We do not feel at home anymore. We have lost the ability to see the world as it really is. Perceiving it and thinking this through is not an option anymore. A crisis occurs. This crisis offers only one way out—thinking. This is what the modern film can show us, according to Deleuze. He considers film not primarily as a source of entertainment, but above all as a form of art that has the potency to break through the cliché. This can help us to restore our connection to the world. This was first realized with Italian neorealism and the French nouvelle vague. This was the starting point of the modern film, which has the potency to break through the cliché. Directors who were more capable of using this medium entered the scene. New images were created. This had nothing to do with technological advancement. According to Deleuze, film always had this potency. The modern film shows the world as it really is. We see a world in all its raw directness. We see situations that we cannot identify immediately, or in which we do not know what to do. The standard script for acting or standard solutions do not seem to function anymore. This makes us think. Thinking is the only solution because otherwise it is not clear which action is possible. Not being able to act is an unacceptable situation, which we want to resist. But how? The answer is not available immediately. The subversive potency makes thinking unavoidable. According to Deleuze, this is connected to the shift from movement-image to time-image. The modern film visualizes time as a whole. Normally, we see only fragments of time. Between these fragments we start to imagine a logical sequence to which we connect a script for acting. This is the sensory-motor scheme. As the modern film can show us the whole, this kind of perceiving becomes problematic. Time is no longer subjected to movement, but vice versa. We move in time. This process of becoming is visualized through the modern film. It shows the “duration.” We see the world as it really is. We see the world of the cliché. Deleuze was a real film aficionado. He was only interested in films that were not cliché-like and which use the subversive potency. They were characterized by an intention of artistic freedom and intellectual density. This is something which isn’t epochal, but disconnected from any time

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period. For this reason it can visualize the disjointed time. In his film books he discusses both the classic and modern film. In the classic film he often recognizes modern elements. It is probably not always possible to draw a straight line. Deleuze is looking for the essence and relevance of film, because he considers it necessary to solve the relevant questions of philosophy. The idea is not to use philosophical terms for film, but to develop the new taxonomy that philosophy needs. In order to gain an insight of this, I shall first name the elements of the image.

1.4 Elements of the Image We can split up the image of film into three parts: the frame, the shot, and the montage. We can regard these as elements of time (Bogue 2003). This implies that we can split up the appearance or even the experience of time in three elements. These elements can visualize the duration. I will go into this later on with the help of hyalosigns. First, I shall describe the different elements separately.

Frame The first element is the frame. We can regard this as the bordering of all that we perceive. It is comparable to a frame of a painting or the casing of a window that can make us look outside. If we look in the present tense, our gaze can constantly adapt itself to what we like to perceive. For instance, we can lean out of the window to enlarge our gaze. If we consider the window of a car, we can look through the windshield, the left or right hand windows, or the rear window—we can use various mirrors, or asks other passengers what there is to see. The frame adapts itself to our view. This is different with film. Film limits the image through the frame. Whatever is outside the frame, in other words that which has not been filmed, is invisible. This does not mean that it cannot not be imagined. This is possible. An image can arise out of our fantasy or memory. It can trigger a feeling of tension or desire. We do not see it, but feel that it is there. It is in a state of readiness to appear. Deleuze (1989; 1986) calls this the “out-of-field.” The frame is thus not only a limitation, but also an enlargement of experience. “Through restriction it comes alive,” claims Henk Oosterling (2000, 217). In the moment that we deny or exclude it, it starts to play a role that is invisible yet present. We wouldn’t have shaped this image in the same way if there had been no restriction by a frame. Which part do

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we want to see, and which do we not? If we do not choose a certain part, this still implies a choice. This creates another perspective for choices, like inclusion or exclusion. We cannot escape choices. The reason for this is that whenever we perceive, we are never able to perceive everything. We only see a part of what there is to be seen. We are forced to cut out a frame of that which is presented to us. We can ask ourselves what it would mean if we could perceive everything at the same time. This would probably be too much. We could get disoriented because choosing a focus of attention would become much more difficult. The grip of the gaze would be diminished. The frame helps us with this grip, and with this focus. The demarcation of the frame offers a limitation, but also a possibility. A limitation is also offered by the camera. We cannot show everything. On the other hand, the camera eye is a means to visualize something in a certain way and can surprise us, because we have never seen it in this way. This means that the frame can direct the vision, or can offer alternatives for this. On the other hand, the frame can be designated by the way we look. In other words, there is the possibility of creating a new image. The photographic quality of the image can lead to new images. The creator of the image can have a significant influence on the effect of the image. What plays an important part is what we allow to be in the frame. How full or empty is the frame? This not only concerns the “business” in the frame, but also in what way the viewer is able to view the frame. In other words, how are his or her visual skills developed? In what way is the viewer familiar with the images and in what way is the viewer capable of reading these images? In what way are details recognized? In other words, “the image is not given to be seen. It is legible as well as visible” (Deleuze 1986, 12). The image that we can observe is thus not there, per se. We have to be able to perceive its readability as well as its visibility, independent from our individual skills. Whenever we want to transmit something, we have to be aware that this does not imply that it is perceived in the same way. If we see very few things in an image, this is because we do not know how to read it properly; we evaluate its rarefaction as badly as its saturation. (Deleuze 1986, 12–13)

The frame is some sort of limitation of the image we want to interpret. This interpretation of the image is something we have to learn. In other words, we have to learn how to see. We can ask ourselves if this image would have the same meaning if we hadn’t framed it; in other words, if we could see the image in a larger perspective. Our attention would probably

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be directed to another part, and the interpretation of the image would lead to different thoughts. The framing leads to different images. It implies, as mentioned, a choice. These limitations also provide a qualitative change in the separated parts. The various parts do not stay the same through separation, but a qualitative change occurs. The frame is not a natural separation, in other words. Deleuze names the parts as “dividual” (1986, 14), something we can translate as separate or dispersed. The separate parts do not have the same meaning as before their separation. A qualitative change takes place. An image is created of something that does not have to be an image beforehand.

Shot The second element of the image is the shot. The shot shows the movement. This can be movement within the frame, or movement of the frame. In other words, the frame can move along. Movement within the frame stresses the acting that takes place within the frame. It is like acting on a stage within a theater. Movement of the frame also stresses the changing surroundings or background. In other words, the attention gets dispersed. The shot can also be used as an exploration of the background, without actors being present. An example of this are the films of Michelangelo Antonioni, like L’Avventura or L’Eclisse, which I will discuss later on. The shot can also use distances. We can observe the acting from nearby or afar. Are we on top of it or do we observe from a distance? This leads to different images (Deleuze 1986). It can be a long-shot, which mainly shows an overview and which centralizes our perception. It can be a medium-shot, in which the action is the focus, and it can be a close-up, in which affection is focused on. But there is another way to treat the difference in distances. If we look with our own eyes we can imagine a fusion of these three images. As an example, we can think of the image we see when we look out of the window of a moving train. We notice the fusion of three tempos of movement. That which is nearest to the moving train is almost invisible. The farther things are removed from the train and thus from our gaze, the clearer the image becomes, until we lose it in the horizon. The speed of the train makes us change our focus of attention to what we try to perceive and which becomes either visible or not. The shot can show us things that we would not be able to perceive in any other way. The camera eye can show us things, with the help of the director, that would perhaps escape our attention. This can be a way of seeing that which we do not know or that which we have forgotten about.

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The camera eye can furthermore show us, through the shot, a sequence that we could not observe ourselves. This can be done through certain camera-movements that can, together with camera-positions, show us an image that we couldn’t observe ourselves. It can be a wandering gaze that is unknown to us. Something that can fill us with a sense of wonder or can ignite deeper thoughts. In this, framing can play an important part. Very fast movements can simulate a tempo that is unreachable for us. The perception can get into a rapid acceleration and can accentuate the unknown or the uncommon. Extra slow movements can make it possible to observe very carefully. It is possible that extra-long and -slow shots can present an image that calls forth impatience and unease, but that can slowly change into amazement and curiosity. We can get the feeling that something unusual is going on, which demands our attention. A qualitative change takes place in that which we perceive. Another aspect of the shot is the cut. In cutting the frame we restrict the space, while cutting the shot not only means a restriction of space, but also a cut in movement. On the one hand there is the facet of movement, and on the other that of space. A new image is composed. According to Deleuze this occurs through, “decomposition and recomposition’” (1986, 20). Therefore, we can speak of “false continuity.” This is not the movement or time as it really is, but an image of it. This image can show us something that would normally be hidden. Therefore, the shot has a potency to be a connector between what we perceive and what remains hidden. This goes for both time and place. The shot can make us see in another way. A way that would probably be out of reach for us. Therefore, it is important for the potency of film. The mentioned “out-of-field” also receives another meaning. In other words, a new meaning occurs for the qualitative change in what is perceivable and what is not. That which is inside and outside the frame can be woven into a whole. The qualitative movement and the experience of time, as well as the place where we perceive, acquire new values. This can outreach that which can be perceived. The appearance is more real than reality.

Montage The third part of the image is shaped by the montage. The German philosopher Gadamar considered montage as a, “composition of readymade parts” (1954, 297). It is like the welding of the various shots. It creates a whole. Through the montage, the director creates a complete picture of what they want to show to us. It is a chain of the various shots and an overview of the various frames. It is the complete image as it is

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assembled from the single parts. This image can show us something that otherwise would be hidden through an alternative sequence of the actions. We can think of a flashback or a dream. Montage can offer an image we could not perceive in another way. We can claim that montage shows us the “big picture.” This is comparable to the image as presented to us in the annual reports discussed in the introduction. They are presented as complete and thoroughly composed images. At least that is what we assume. Frames and shots are subject to certain choices, and every choice implies a qualitative change of the created parts. The cutting of parts from a whole and then assembling them into another whole not only lead to a new constellation, but also result in everything not included in the montage starting to play a role. The whole goes through a qualitative change. Montage designates the way in which the world is shown to us. The meaning behind frames and shots can dissolve in the moment that they are not welded together as a singular thought. With directors we notice an urge to gain full control over the montage. In this way they want to secure their artistic freedom. A famous example of this is the film Brazil (1985) from director Terry Gilliam. The fight over the control of the montage is extensively documented by Jack Mathews in The Battle of Brazil (1987), as well as in the documentary with the same title attached to the Criterion DVD of Brazil. On this DVD there is also a version of the film distributed later on, and in which the montage was done by someone else. This shows the effect of the difference between the two. The open and dystopian ending of Gilliam’s version is traded for a happy end. The studio executives were convinced that a happy end would be more profitable. These and related thoughts, but especially the conflict of opinion, ignited the “battle” and triggered Terry Gilliam to state: My attitude is that studio executives are guilty until proven innocent. I know these people. They are assholes. (Mathews, 1987, 8)

Whether Gilliam’s classification is correct is beside the point. What is nevertheless clear is that there is a zone of tension between artistic freedom and the financial ambitions of the film industry. According to Deleuze: “This is the old curse which undermines the cinema: time is money” (1989, 77). He considers this to be the greatest threat to the potency of film.

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1.5 Types of Images Besides the elements of the image, Deleuze describes various types of images that the film can show us. I will discuss the three main ones: the perception image, the affection image, and the action image. These three shape the image of the classic film. They are the ingredients of the sensory motor image, which lies at the basis of the cliché. In short, we perceive something, we are moved by it through affection, and know, from an a priori script for acting, which action is appropriate. In other words, the action is included in the perception. Thinking is superfluous. We know what we have to do.

Perception Perception is about what we perceive: “we perceive only what we are interested in perceiving, or rather what is in our interest to perceive’ (Deleuze 1989, 20). This means that we only perceive what we want to perceive, and this consists of clichés. The perception image in the film should thus enable us to see new things. The potency of film should see to it that a perception is created which is able to break through clichés. But how is this image created? In answering this question, the unique character of film should be considered. This is a combination of seeing the audible, and hearing the visual. According to Deleuze, film is the only art form that can combine these two sensory perceptions in a unique way. As I have argued, perception pre-supposes a certain capacity. We can think of certain experiences of seeing and hearing or other sensory experiences. This also implies that perception will not be similar for everyone. Everyone creates their own image, their own world, their own reality. We can also think of situations where our senses are hazy. I will return to this in the readings of The Big Lebowski, Ikiru, and Do the Right Thing. In this manner, perception deals with the question—what do we perceive in film? When we are discussing perception we cannot ignore the idea of “picnolepsy,” as it is described by the French philosopher Paul Virilio (1991). This means when you are driving a car, for instance, that afterwards you cannot exactly remember all the things that happened or that you have seen. You were in deep thought or submerged in other aesthetic experiences. You have driven on automatic pilot. You have not really been aware of what was going on around you. Your alertness was lessened. In the case of film, this would mean that you weren’t really aware of watching the movie, but your attention was drawn somewhere

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else. You see and hear, but do not perceive, although necessary action is taken. The perception floats right by you. This means that there is a conscious and a subconscious way of perceiving. This conscious perception implies that for film we see something on the screen and are aware of this. Deleuze refers to this as the subjective prehension. The objective prehension is everything that could be perceived on the screen. What we could perceive is mostly more than what we actually perceive. Not everyone perceives the same. Perception supposes choices or skills that define in what way we are able to perceive. The subjective prehension, the image we perceive consciously, is therefore different for every viewer. Besides the conscious perception, there is also the question of what we can or cannot perceive inside the frame. This does not mean that we do or do not make a choice, but to what extent something is really visible. Is the thing which is upfront clear and the thing in the background blurred, or is it vice versa? Is the big picture clear, but are the details hidden in a mist? Is it an image where everything is crystal clear and thus also perceivable? Deleuze (1986) speaks in this case of the “depth of field.” This is the extent to which an image, at least that part which is perceivable, appears clear and detailed to us. I have already referred to the reading of an image. This is relevant in this case. The more details are perceivable and the clearer we can observe them, the more we are put in a position to read the image. The depth of field thus decides the extent to which we can read an image. If we perceive an image, it does not mean that there is also a meaning. To give it meaning we have to interpret the image. What do we see in it? In other words, we have to look for the meaning it can have for us, and therefore read the image in order to find what it has to say to us. This interpretation creates a new image. This is an image that can change at the moment we read it more accurately or in a different way. In other words, the image is never static, but always dynamic. It is not solid, but fluid. It is never definite. It is infinite. When we look at a film, not only are the images moving, through which the image is in movement, but the perception itself also changes. The image is in a continuous process of becoming. It can be regarded as liquid perception. It becomes more complex when we are dealing with a compilation of images that appear after each other, or which move through each other. We are confronted with different tempos of becoming. Images have their own duration, dynamic, and extent to which we can unravel and interpret them. Concerning the differences in dynamics of an assembled image, we can think of an employee in an organization who has to make a decision

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according to company policy when they are on the twelfth floor of the main office. We can recognize at least four components of perception that all have their own durations, frames, and perceptions. We can think of the employee, the decision to be made, company policy, and the twelfth floor. The assembled image shapes itself in various tempos and our perception does the same. We can conclude that the subjective prehension is designated by the becoming of the image, which can change its meaning for us. It is a complex process of perception, becoming, and interpretation. Apparently, there is not only the question of what we perceive, but also how we perceive. This is limited by the frame, depth of field, and skills of reading images. How we perceive involves the movement of images. Just as we are constantly becoming in time, the same can be argued about the perception of images. The moment of perception plays an important part in this. We can argue that film gives an imagining of the process of becoming. Film can show this in ways that are not available to us in any other way. I will come back to this later on in the discussion of the modern film. Merleau-Ponty (2003) claimed that meaning comes out of our relation with what we perceive, and that corporeality plays an important part in this. “Perception is much more the sensory, corporeal relation to the world than it is a (conscious) cognitive activity” (12, own translation). Thus, the body and the sensory experience of that body play an important part in our perception.

Affection A next step is the feeling that is caused by what we perceive. Deleuze refers to this as affection. We perceive an image, read and interpret it. This does something to us. We are moved by it. To make his argument, Deleuze uses the work of Spinoza (1988). Affection is about the degree in which we do or do not get affected: “beings will be defined by their capacity for being affected, by the affections of which they are capable, the excitations to which they react, those by which they are unaffected, and those which exceed their capacity and make them ill or cause them to die” (Deleuze 1988, 45, italics in original). This argument is permeated with the idea that it is not only about the degree that can result in a certain affection, but especially about how a person is capable of developing a certain kind of sensitivity. In other words, it is about the degree to which we can be sensitive. Considering cliché, affection reaches an identical situation as Deleuze (1986) has described with perception; namely, that we only perceive what we want to perceive. The feeling that results from this should then be

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familiar to us. We know what we see, and know which feelings belong to this. There is a cliché-like expectancy pattern that helps us with our feelings. It leads our feeling onto safe pathways. For the visualization of affection, Deleuze (1986, 87) refers to the close-up. According to him, this shows an affection that is separate from its surrounding or situation. We see the pure emotion through the face of the actor. We see this emotion apparently detached from its context. It stands to reason that affection can never be seen totally detached from its surroundings. Still, it can be shown that way in order to strongly emphasize it. The affection is in the “any-space-whatever.” This means that space is not determinative for our feelings and behavior, but anonymous or absent. Space gives us no recognizable grip. The close-up can visualize this. We can also think of a setting covered in a haze. I will return to the “any-space-whatever” extensively in the discussion of the modern film. A good example of the affection image is the film Ikiru from Japanese director Akira Kurosawa. The emotions of the actor are extremely magnified through the close-up, which maximizes the dramatic effect. I will discuss this film later on.

Action The affection image can lead to action. We have noticed something through perception—we can be touched by this through affection, and this leaves us with a choice. We can act or we can decide not to act. If you are aware of a choice, this implies that there are choices you cannot make anymore (Deleuze 1986). This awakening is already a choice, which excludes other or different choices. We can ask ourselves if a situation in which you do not have a choice is also a choice. We could describe this as a choice made outside of yourself. This could be grounded in a certain unavoidability. We can also be unconscious of the possibility of a choice, because we are stuck in our cliché-like role-pattern in such a way that escape is no option. If I am conscious of choice, there are therefore already choices that I can no longer make, and modes of existence that I can no longer follow—all those I followed on the condition of persuading myself that “there was no choice.” (Deleuze 1986, 114)

From our sensory-motor schema, which forms the basis for the sequence of perception, affection, and action, we reach our cliché-like choice. This choice implies that we can take action or not. From a cliché-like expectancy pattern, we are informed on what we should do. This is acting

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or not acting. This does not imply that we have to think about what we have to do, but whether or not we should pursue the action. Thinking plays no part whatsoever. We just know for sure what the outcome will be. This is the basis of our thinking on the cliché according to Deleuze—perception leads to affection, which leads to action. Thinking plays no part in this. The expectancy-pattern is shaped by predictable behavior, predictable spaces, and predictable social interaction. The world is moulded, and for that reason we know what we can expect. Deleuze (1986) refers to a fusion of a “milieu” and a “modus of behavior.” This is the model on which the cliché film is shaped. We know what awaits us and especially what we have to do. We know what action suits a certain situation. It is this predictability that leads us from situation to situation in an apparently logical and sequential time frame. We have contributed with the help of our subliminal or liminal perception, which excludes all that we do not want to perceive. Situations that are sketched as unclear or deviant take place in a surrounding which is familiar and which puts us in a position to know which action is required. The horror immediately points to a certain action. We do not have to question what we have to do. There is no need for thinking about what action is most suitable for a certain feeling. No, we know what action is needed. The cliché helps us and supplies certainty, clearness, and thoroughness.

1.6. Ikiru In the previous part I argued that whatever we perceive doesn’t show itself immediately. Sometimes it presents itself on the surface, but we lack the experience of looking properly at this surface. Sometimes it is down deep, it more or less hides in the deep. Sometimes we are up too close, which causes our vision to be distorted, and sometimes the question is hidden in the answer. In this context, Deleuze (1986) refers to the “secret question” as hidden in the work of the influential Japanese director Akira Kurosawa (1910–98). An example is his film Ikiru [To Live] (1952). The film tells the story of a civil servant working for the city. His life is exemplified by dullness and meaninglessness. His sad facial expression emphasizes his passion for his job. This is visualized in an intriguing way. He works for a department of the municipal organization. This organization does not function properly, because the various departments are not capable of coordinated action. They constantly shove responsibility towards each other. Integral responsibility for results is not possible, as is striving for excellence, which should exemplify the pride of working for a governmental organization (Denhardt 1993). The work in the department

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is mainly about piling up work, the apathetic behavior of colleagues, gossip, scorn, and redirecting customers to other departments, arguing that they should be helped somewhere else. It is fragmented and careless. It is opposed to what we have seen in the annual reports, where an integral approach and customer care are considered important. But it is not just that. The film also shows that it is not just the customer who gets treated in a bad way—this also happens to the employees. Their actions designate their sadness. Suddenly the situation changes. When visiting a doctor, Watanabe, the protagonist, finds that he has only six months to live. This results in him not showing up to work anymore. His colleagues are shocked, even though they do not know the reason for his absence. Their daily ritual is disrupted. The solid basis of their existence as civil servants is gone. Watanabe, on the other hand, has decided to start enjoying life. He meets a stranger who accompanies him in an adventurous stroll through the nightlife. They indulge in alcohol and brothels. Watanabe is seduced into making statements like: “to enjoy life is a sacred duty,” or “man should lust for life,” or “greedy life is the highest virtue,” and “striptease is much more direct than art.” These statements depict a part of life that was, until then, hidden from him. It was only his job that mattered. He was caught up in dullness and predictability. He was caught in a mould. It was this mould upon which his life was based, and which he trades in for a life of adventure and unpredictability. He breaks through the cliché that is synonymous for life. The question is—does he step into a new cliché? Breakthrough and change do not always lead to progress. His terminal disease has caused the above-described action. He has chosen to enjoy the pleasures of life as long as possible. We might wonder if any thinking was needed. Nevertheless, we can conclude that a shock has led to a change in behavior. Somehow, it probably made him think. He was confronted with this new reality, which became unbearable for him. This was already the case for his old life, but still he found a way to abide in this. His disease however forces him to start living in a radically altered way. But is it another way of living, or is it just a temporary recovery or a mental derangement which drags him out of his cliché-like existence and offers him a way out, to another life? What the shock does is make clear that, until now, he hasn’t lived. The secret question reveals itself. How does one have to live if he or she hasn’t lived before? It is a conclusion that you were alive, but have never lived. He has to embrace life and enjoy it as much as possible. But does he know how to do that, or, more generally, can you live when you have never lived before? After working for thirty years as a civil servant, he decides to

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change and in that way make a meaningful contribution to society. He wants to accomplish something that brings pleasure to the lives of others. With this revelation he goes back to work. His colleagues are again bewildered. They know nothing of his terminal disease. The only thing they do know, out of their own limited existence, is that their colleague has disrupted a familiar pattern by not showing up to work. The action is more exciting than the cause. Watanabe wants to perform one good deed. He sees this in the granting and realization of a request by a group of mothers. In their seriously deteriorating neighborhood, they want a playground for their kids. Watanabe knows that in order to realize this he has to overcome the opposition of the various departments. The continuous redirecting of work to other departments, a situation in which nobody feels any responsibility for handling or finishing anything, is an obstacle that has to be overcome. This is the condition in which he has to realize his new goal. His newly discovered lust for and power of life have to help him. This results in an almost compulsive obsession, which he hangs on to at all costs. The shock that put him to thought keeps him going. It is like American author Paul Auster states: “Men don’t begin to live fully until their backs are against the wall” (2002, 238). In the second part of the film we see the situation after his death. Through an evening vigil we see and hear the various opinions of what has happened in the meantime. We see how the different attendees try to describe and understand, but most of all designate the role of Watanabe. Political but also civil interests are at stake, because Watanabe was a civil servant and his goal was to realize a public facility for a neighborhood in decay. These interests generate personal and subjective remarks and reasonings. Various civil servants try to take advantage of the situation, for instance blaming Watanabe for “civil negligence.” He hasn’t stuck to the civil-service structure. He has disobeyed the mould. In the structure of the mould, the duties and responsibilities are designated and distributed, and the result is always of secondary importance. Looking back, it becomes obvious that nobody really knows exactly what happened. There is no clear-cut truth to be told. Through individual reasoning and the debate that follows, the personal memories of the attendees are distorted. What complicates the matter further is that various participants argue out of personal gain or hidden agendas. This distorts the image even further. The reality that is being reconstructed obstructs a clear image. Nobody knows exactly what happened. Flashbacks in the film help the viewer to retrieve an image, but doubt keeps lurking. For the actors it is unclear and that goes for the viewer as well. We get the impression that

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Watanabe’s life’s work was created through chance. His choices and persistence played a distinctive part, but chance seems to be the pivotal factor. This also goes for his illness, which started by chance—no plan was involved. We also see that his choice for the playground was driven by chance, as he chooses the file that was on top of the stack. Chance designates his actions and, in the end, the result. Besides the role of chance, we also see elements that hamper and even prevent the designation of what really happened. The secret question disappears under the surface, but shows itself when we think about what the film is trying to tell us. The questions of whether Watanabe is really ill and will die, and if he, in spite of this, will realize his playground, do not constitute not the message the director wants to get across. It is more about the value of life, and to what extent we are capable of embracing life and whether we really need a shocking moment, like a terminal disease, to gain this insight. There is a reference to the Ecce Homo of Nietzsche, which puts the story in a certain perspective. The effect of Watanabe’s acting, and especially his success, leads to inspiration afterwards and triggers his former colleagues’ need for decisiveness. From that moment on, they want to start cooperating and work for society in a relevant way. Watanabe is their role model. Alcohol, which flows abundantly during the vigil, plays a major part. The alcohol makes them feel free and self-confident. It helps them to overcome obstacles and agree on subjects. The more they get under the influence, the more certain they become in their decisiveness. They step out of their cliché-like role-patterns and discover new paths. They appear to resemble Watanabe after his shock of finding out he was terminally ill. They start to say sensible things and the diversity that was there before disappears. These thoughts are still active the day after. However, as soon as they want to effectuate these ideas they discover that they have become powerless again, and fall back into their cliché-driven role-patterns. The alcohol that made them strong has lost its potency and they retreat into their old unsatisfying behaviors. They have become impotent again. Again, customers are redirected to other departments and the sadness and dullness strike again. We can wonder what would have happened if they had remained under the influence continuously. Would they be able to dispose of their cliché-driven behaviors? Alcohol has apparently made them think clearly and has fueled decisiveness. This could also be a secret question within the film. I will return to these thoughts in the next chapter with the visual reading of the film Do the Right Thing. After a visual reading of Ikiru, we can conclude that this film shows a chain of events that most people will be familiar with. Furthermore, it

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assumes a goal and a clear solution that inform us on the appropriate action for the situation. We are informed of what we should do. Basically, we do not have to think about this. The film remains permeated by clichés and the film calls forth an example we just have to follow. It offers solutions for situations that we can be confronted with, without there being any need for us to think. In this way, it doesn’t escape the sensory-motor scheme.

1.7 The Daily Banality An alternative for the classic film became a necessity through a crisis. This crisis was not triggered by the technical possibilities or limitations of film. These are not the reasons for bringing film to its ultimate form. The crisis was caused by changes in society, which can be referred to as modernity. The way in which the world had been presented had become obsolete or even unacceptable. The simple and cliché-like manner in which life was shown in a more beautiful and prosperous way was rejected. What should be shown instead was the daily banality. Film should not make life look more pretty, but it should show the raw directness and unavoidability of existence. Directors started to visualize these changes caused by modern life. This was done in a style that presented a directness that had already been visible in documentaries. In this crisis we can distinguish five elements. The first is that the image does not refer to a uniform, synthetic situation, but to one that is dispersed. The situation is not clear-cut, it is multiple. This implies that there is more than one description or truth that is appropriate for a situation. The second element is that there is no clear course of events. There is no logical and indicative sequence anymore. The specific parts are disconnected from each other. Any possible connections are very weak and are designated by chance. Thirdly, the sensory-motor scheme is replaced by strolling, or drifting. The journey and the never-ending return become decisive. The action is not known beforehand, it is not embedded in the image we perceive. The action aimed at the future, and which we know in advance and should help us move on, becomes obsolete. The fourth element is that the only things that appear to form a whole are clichés. The clichés of a certain moment or a certain period can give us a sense of security in a situation where there appears to be none. The conditions for cliché-like behavior appear to have left, and only the clichés themselves are still there. But it goes further than security. They become internalized in the viewer and designate the thinking and feeling in such an

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intense way that everyone becomes a cliché, surrounded by a world of clichés. How can one not believe in a powerful concerted organization, a great and powerful plot, which has found the way to make clichés circulate, from outside to inside, from inside to outside? (Deleuze 1986, 209)

This leads to the last element—the supremacy or sole-leadership of clichés. It almost seems like a plot. Everyone is caught in clichés without us being aware of this. We only perceive clichés. We are not capable of perceiving an image as it really is anymore, we only see the cliché. In these clichés the action is embedded, which means our acting is driven by clichés. Furthermore, we can state that clichés do not assume separate positions, but reinforce each other. “Physical, optical and auditory clichés and psychic clichés mutually feed on each other” (Deleuze 1986, 209). Deleuze states that this is a situation that we need to reject. We have to break through the cliché. We cannot do this by ridiculing the cliché, or by trying to destroy it: “a cliché is not slow to be reborn from its ashes” (1986, 211). The only possibility is showing the image as it really is, with the help of film. We need to make clichés visible by showing them in a new image. This is where Italian neorealism makes its entrance, presenting a way that can visualize this situation and by doing the thing the cliché does not want us to do, namely to think. The cliché is shown as it is—a cliché. Deleuze argues for a world that is present, but which we cannot see anymore. We are not capable of perceiving it anymore, because it is too horrifying. It is the daily chaos and banality from which we look away, and which we reject from our frame. We have pushed the banality aside and have replaced it with the cliché, without us being aware of this. The cliché hides our world and at the same time becomes our world in this way. This causes disillusion, bluntness, and disinterest. As an example, Deleuze uses the work of American director Sam Peckinpah. He shows us a world in which the protagonists, “have no facades, they have not a single illusion left: thus they represent disinterested adventure, from which no advantage is to be gained except for pure satisfaction of remaining alive. They have nothing of the American dream, they have only kept their lives” (1986, 168). The illusions for change or even hope have disappeared. Only life itself remains, knowing that this won’t supply satisfaction or fun. Dreams of a better future are pointless. The “American dream,” as it is shown in the cliché film, turns out to be a nightmare. It is a matter of survival, without it being clear if there is any point to surviving. It is a

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visualization of the effects of the cliché. It becomes a pointless and hopeless operation which revolves around nausea. Deleuze (1986) uses another example with Charlie Chaplin and his films The Great Dictator and Monsieur Verdoux. He claims that the main idea behind these films is that: “Society puts itself in the situation of making any powerful man into a bloody dictator, any businessman a murderer, literally a murderer, because it gives us too much incentive to be evil, instead of giving rise to situations where freedom and humanity would be bound up with our interest or our raison d’être” (1986, 172, italics in original). In Monsieur Verdoux, we see how a businessman transforms into a murderer, a situation into which he is more or less forced. Whether he still has an option to be a murderer or not remains unclear. According to Deleuze, he chooses the most tempting option. For him, murder is a way to survive. After losing his job he has run out of money. He lost his job as a banker during times of crisis. The way in which he presents himself in his new role as murderer shows that the boundary is very thin. However, this does not seem to make him uncomfortable. He can make use of his skills as a banker in finding out which one of his victims is the most prosperous and how he can obtain their money. He doesn’t get caught because he has the image of a banker. His appearance convinces people and hides what he really is. In the banker there is a killer, whether he kills or not.

1.8 Hyalosigns As already mentioned, the crisis in the action image was caused by Italian neorealism, with directors like Rosselini, Da Sica, or Antonioni, and the French nouvelle vague with directors like Godard, Bresson, or Resnais. This created a new “film language,” something Deleuze calls the modern image. This image caused a shock that could make the viewer stop and think in order to break through the cliché. The central point is that the time is disrupted. This is what Deleuze claims at the beginning of his second film book: “The time is out of joint” (1989, x1). This disruption of time is visualized by the crystal image, or “hyalosign.” This is an image that shows the fusing of present, past, and future. Time doesn’t move in sequences from the past, through the present, to the future, but moves in a discontinuous way in which the various aspects of time are fused in an indistinguishable way. Time doesn’t move chronologically. It is not about chronos, but cronos. Why is time of importance, according to Deleuze? In order to explain this he uses the work of Bergson, who claimed that we never see time in

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its completeness. We never see the duration. We only see fragments. According to Bergson (1998), we witness a cinematographic illusion. The modern film however enables us to see the complete picture, to see duration. Through hyalosigns this duration is shown. Fragments do not form a logical sequence. This was suggested by the classical film through the sensory-motor scheme. This made time subordinate to movement. It was visualized as a flowing, logical, and succeeding whole. The modern film, on the other hand, makes movement subordinate to time. We are put in a position to see a direct image of time. We see that this image is not a logical and successive whole, but consists of loose links, with weak or no connections. The duration shows fragments, but also disruptions. These disruptions or transformations are more important than the fragments, according to Deleuze. They designate the changes. The main path becomes subordinate to the deviations. In the hyalosigns we see the fusing of the actual and the virtual, of reality and fantasy. According to Deleuze, this is: “to show how and in what sense school is a prison, housing estates are examples of prostitution, bankers killers, photographs tricks—literally, without metaphor” (1989, 20–1, italics in original). We see the cliché as it really is. It is not a metaphor, but a raw directness. This is not meant to cause action, but to create an urge for thought. It is a reality that we will not recognize immediately or which we even want to see. It is not a reality that immediately informs us what we should do. It is a reality that fills us with nausea. It is a reality that shows itself in all its banality and causes a shock to thought. The actual image and the virtual image coexist and crystallize; they enter into a circuit which brings us constantly back from one to the other; they form one and the same “scene” where the characters belong to the real and yet play a role. In short, it is the whole of the real, life in its entirety, which has become spectacle, in accordance with the demand of a pure optical and sound perception. (Deleuze 1989, 83–4)

Film has a potency to show us the real-reality (Deleuze 1989). It is not the cliché-like reality created when we close our eyes or look the other way. Instead, we see a world as it really is and not one we witness through our cliché-like perception, and in which the action is already embedded. We see a multiple reality that was hidden from us. We see an unknown world of which we cannot make sense, and which makes us feel nauseated through its banality. This is a situation we cannot look away from. The modern film shows us that clichés are not the way to deal with the world. They estrange us from this world. We become dispossessed. We lose our

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faith in this world, according to Deleuze. Film can bring this faith back, and make us believe in this world again. The brain becomes the screen (Flaxman 2000). Thinking becomes relevant again.

Blow-Up An example of the modern film is Blow-Up (1966) from Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni (1912–2007). This film shows the image of a young and popular photographer in London, who photographs a murder. Why is this movie relevant in our thinking about clichés? The film shows the five elements as they were described earlier. The film shows a dispersed situation with weak connections. The required action appears not to be embedded in what we perceive. We see an image that we cannot read or understand immediately. An answer or explanation is absent. We are forced to think. What does the film tell us? We see how the photographer shoots an image of a body, without him actually seeing it. It becomes visible only after development and being blown it up. It is then that the body appears. The body seems to be a murder victim. The pictures offer him and the viewer a new, or maybe another, image of a same reality. Perception and what is really happening are not the same. Therefore, affection and action cannot take place in a similar way as they did in the classic film. The photographer retrieves the meaning from a representation of a reality. A reality that has apparently happened. He doesn’t know for sure what has happened, because he hasn’t seen it with his own eyes. He has only the perception of the camera eye. It is not that he has made a thoroughly planned composition and that this meaning is reflected in the composition. It happened by chance and he interprets what he sees and constructs a meaning from the material before him and within the framed context of the picture. Reality is shaped by chance and constructed afterwards. He is confronted with a dilemma, because he hasn’t actually seen the body or the murder. This forces him to go back to the park where the picture was taken. It is there that he finds the body. The problem now is that finding the body is only an acknowledgement of his own presumption. He hasn’t got his camera with him to make a new image of the body. Therefore, he is not able to turn this perception into an acceptable truth. It cannot be made into a socially accepted reality, because that can only be created in a social context. More people have to be present to construct this kind of reality. In this way, Blow-Up shows us how a reality is constructed. A lot of things remain unclear for the viewer, or are even unexplainable. We do not know what has or hasn’t happened. Did this

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murder really happen or did it not? The central or secret question can be described as—can you be sure that things really happen? This is amplified by the absence of sound or dialogue, which creates an alienating sphere. We have to note that the plot is subordinate to what is going on. What the film mainly shows us is that there can be no logical conclusions based on what we see. Expectations are not met. The image the photographer has made is different from what he imagined or expected. His idea was to take a picture of a couple in love, but the pictures show a murder. But it is not just his pictures, it is also the way he presents himself. We see how he tries to create an image of popularity and heroism that deviates from what is shown in the classical film. The image we can trust, and on which we can rely, is absent. Instead, we see an image that is puzzling. More precisely, we see an image where our standard thought-pattern is deficient. We have to think and create new thoughts that are designated by specific situations that were unforeseeable and grounded in chance. Our cliché-like thought pattern and the accompanying feelings and actions have become obsolete. We see how the protagonist has a troubled relation with himself and his surroundings. The volatility and superficiality of his actions are in the center of attention, just like his abuse of power, enabled by his apparent popularity. We see examples of verbal and sexual abuse. His motives remain obscure. There is no clear beginning or end to this, which make his character even more unexplainable. We see how others willingly subject themselves to his manifestation of power. This enables him to stretch these boundaries. We see an extensive and, for that period of time, apparently shocking sex-scene, which was the reason for the film being banned in Italy (Chatman and Duncan 2004). Two groupies are intimidated and willingly subject themselves to his dominance. After some amorous escapades, he bullies them and kicks them out the door. The world of glamour and its accompanying striving for fame and the inherent worshipping of that fame are displayed as unsatisfactory, or even ridiculous. There seems to be no deeper meaning, or it could be that this remains hidden. It all remains superficial. The dream of success is awakened. What is nevertheless obvious is that nobody seems to be enjoying what he or she is doing. A way out of this situation, or a solution, as was offered in Ikiru, is absent. Antonioni shows how the visual image presented always has to be interpreted. It is not a familiar image. Just like the first characteristic of the crisis, it doesn’t refer to a clear-cut situation. It is a situation which is multiple. It is just like the picture that doesn’t show the murder, but which has to be interpreted. The meaning is not there immediately and without reservation. We have to search for it, not knowing if it is there to be found.

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In the end there is another meaning in our interpretation of a meaning, and in that one another meaning, and another. It goes on endlessly. The real image is untraceable. Just as mentioned in the third characteristic of the crisis, we see the protagonist strolling. It is not a goal-oriented action with a clear beginning and end, but a seemingly pointless drifting. It remains unclear why the protagonist does what he does, where he comes from, or how he wants to continue. The motivations are obscured. We can shape an image, but this is an image that has to be interpreted in order to retrieve any meaning from it. It is not possible to go along with the actions based on a familiar behavioral pattern. The cliché is obsolete. Our perception is not attached to the affection anymore, and any resulting action is impossible. But it is not only the audience which doesn’t know what to make of the protagonist’s motivations. That would imply a situation that could be explained. It would suggest that there is a reason somewhere which can be retrieved if only we would look better or try harder. This is not the case. The protagonist himself doesn’t know why he does the things he does. It seems as if it all happens from an unavoidable boredom. This is not a boredom that would provide rest or satisfaction to some extent, but a boredom grounded in an unease that only gets stronger. It seems as if no-one in this film really feels confident with the role he or she is playing. The social interaction seems to be based on alienation. At the end of the film, the protagonist suddenly disappears from the frame. This raises the question of whether it has all been an illusion. Not only if the murder did or did not happen, but if all the actions in the film really did take place. If the protagonist disappears into nothing, does that mean that all the actions were also nothing? In other words, what did we really see? Our focus of attention was fixed on something that disappears, that seems to be superfluous or irrelevant. Shouldn’t we have directed our attention to something else, or is this whole idea of focusing on something nonsensical? These are question the film can bring forth. But it even goes further. It is not only that the protagonist vanishes in the frame. During the film he doesn’t have a name and therefore, in principle, no identity. We can see him, but at the same time he isn’t there, or we could argue that the absence of his identity, him not having a name, is typical for the fact that he is nobody. Therefore, he is also everybody. He can be substituted for any other person. If he is everybody, he is a mirror-image of man and its behavior in a certain setting. The fact that he doesn’t enjoy the things he is doing, that he doesn’t finish what he has started, and that his life is based on fortuitousness, are apparently characteristics the director considers fit for everyone.

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Zerkalo Another example is the film Mirror [Zerkalo] (1974) from Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky (1932–86). The film takes place in the former Soviet Union, and can be regarded as a statement against living there. Furthermore it can be viewed as an accusation against a belief in progress. The films of Tarkovsky, who considered himself to be a poet, show a spiritual journey of the protagonists. They are confronted with complex philosophical questions (Bird 2008; Dunne 2008; Tarkovsky 2006; Martin 2005; Johnson and Petrie 1994; Tarkovskaya 1990; Turovskaya 1989; Le Fanu 1987). They are like strangers who try to retrieve meaning out of the world in which they are drifting. They look for points of reference that can distinguish their routes or tell them how to continue this route. They are like nomads. In creating his poetic film images, time is the main issue. This time is visualized with shots that are both long and slow, and which try to capture time in the shot. These shots demand our attention and trigger us to start observing. This challenges boredom and call forth a sense of wonder and curiosity. Our thinking is addressed. Tarkovsky describes this in his autobiography as “sculpting in time”: “Everything gets connected, gears into one another and points to each other: the sphere is the result of the concentration on the essence” (2006, 187, own translation). The images move so slow that they almost seem to stand still, almost as if it is a painting that slowly but thoughtfully comes to life. The slowness makes us aware that we have lost the patience for observation, for perception. It makes us think in a way that changes from impatience to wonder. The haunting gaze is traded in for the contemplative gaze. It makes us aware of a time unknown to us. It is not the time of the clock that we cling to or which we allow to discipline us. It is a time that we do not command, but of which we are a part. It is the time that shapes us. With this new film language, Tarkovsky intended to uplift film to the same status as the great classic forms of art (Bird 2008; Dunne 2008; Martin 2005; Johnson and Petrie 1994, Tarkovskaya 1990; Turovskaya 1989; Le Fanu 1987). Film should claim its position at last. Its time of adolescence was over. He also disposed of the narrative and the figurative. Film should not just tell a story and should not just present a mirror-image of the world. Film had to show a world in a new way—a way which we were incapable of. Our eyes do not see the same as the camera eye. It is not a reflection of the familiar, but an image that confronts us with what is unknown to us or from which we are estranged. It should lead to a “shock to thought.” The director calls forth a power he didn’t suspect and which he cannot control. This force literally shakes us awake. It makes us think.

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Tarkovsky (2006) had the opinion that good films cannot be boxed-up in a genre. The disciplining of genres limits the poetic possibilities of film. Film as a form of art should be free and timeless. It should shape a world in itself. A world which we cannot perceive anymore. It should create an image of our world. A world that confronts us and connects us with life. He states: “Anyone can look at my films as looking into a mirror and seeing yourself in it” (2006, 179). He continues: “The spirit longs for harmony, life is a disharmony and it is this opposition which causes movement. It is simultaneously the source of our pain and of our hope, but also the movement of our spiritual being and behavior” (2006, 186). For Tarkovsky, this was not without engagement: “I consider it to be my duty to make people think about the fundamentals and the eternal that is present in every human being, but which is neglected too easily; because, although man has faith in his own hands, he is rather led by vague idols” (2006, 192). Man should be brought in touch with himself and with their world. In the film Mirror we witness a forcefield between nature and man. The latter strives for progress, and this causes a conflict with nature. Man estranges from nature, but also from his own essence. We see a world that is wounded and mutilated. We see buildings falling apart and slowly being reclaimed by nature. They are taken over by vegetation and penetrated by rain. Nature overcomes the technological progress of man. Progress apparently leads to decay. The idea that time consists of logical sequences of succeeding fragments that belong to each other is of no use anymore. The idea that technique helps us in our struggle for progression turns out to be an illusion. It therefore seems not a good idea to put one’s faith in technological progress. Progress implies decline. The cliché that a status quo equals decline has to be abolished. Progress is decline and a status quo is just a status quo. A scene in a printing office shows the disconsolateness of work in all its weirdness and revolt. The protagonist, while being at home, realizes that she might have made a mistake at work. In an extremely hasty and almost obsessive way, she decides to go back to work. In black and white images, we see her running along a street towards a building. The area is filled with buildings in decay and autumn leaves are falling. It rains. Inside the printing office we see a place of disconsolateness, bureaucraticcontrol, with the noise of industrial machines, panic, pressure, and farstretching accusations considering the private life of the protagonist. This all designates the sphere of work. It has an all-enveloping effect on everyone involved, and finds its way back to the private situation of the workers. This causes the whole society to be permeated by work and its negative experience. There is no escape.

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The end of the scene shows how the protagonist takes a shower. The water is needed for cleansing. It should offer an escape to a pure existence. The pollution caused by technological progress plus the way in which the world of work has evolved in an all-enveloping and negative way should be washed away. This is what the images show. But there is more. We see how the images of the protagonist and her mother in law, played by the same actress, fuse in an indistinguishable way and shape a multiple identity. It is unclear who is who. A fusion of characters has taken place. Again, we are confronted with a situation in which the characters are multi-dimensional. But what is going on and who is who? To answer this question, we need thinking and interpretation. Besides that we see that there is no logical sequence. The film jumps forwards and backwards in time, leaving us wondering what is really going on. Is it a fantasy or a dream? Fantasy and reality are melted into a crystal image, into a hyalosign. The crystal image offers an image of time. The various fragments and tempos fuse into its creation. Not only do the moments of time differ, but also the tempos of the experience of time. This suggests that we perceive moments from the past, the present, and the future in an indistinguishable way. It also suggests that perception has a fixed duration. The nervousness of one duration can differ substantially from the relaxed experience of another. One memory or future thought can be relaxing, while the other can be distressing or can send shivers through your bones. Any logical connection between these fragments is lacking. They are distributed by irrational cuts. An extremely complex image is created, which is on the one hand incomprehensible and which we, on the other, want to figure out, and give meaning to. We have to think about this. It makes us think about the cliché-like character we saw in the annual reports. The characteristics of cliché, as they are described, are of no use anymore. There is no clear beginning or end, and there is no significant role for the hero. Any goal orientation is absent, and that goes for transparency and knowability as well. There is no sequential movement of time and there is no happy end. We see images that do not seem to fit within our cliché-like expectancy pattern. Any script for acting is absent. We have to think—what does this unknown world mean to us?

1.9 Appearance & Thinking As we have seen in the previous examples, we are dealing with a visualization of an appearance-reality that is transformed into our reality with the help of clichés. Film has the potency to reverse this and show

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how it really is. It shows it as an appearance. In other words, we see the banker again as a murderer. With the power of the false, Deleuze informs us that it is not meant as a search for the truth. There is no truth. He draws on Nietzsche, citing: “even the truthful man ends up realizing that he has never stopped lying” (1989, 133). It is not about retrieving the truth, because imagine what would happen if we would find it. It would be: “inaccessible, impossible to describe, and, if it could be described, would be useless, superfluous” (1989, 137). What is relevant, however, is a process of becoming. In this the time is disconnected from action and exists in itself. This is what film can show us. It is not about a static situation, but about a transformation. It is about continuous movement, which doesn’t include action. We have to think about this movement. The truth is a process of a continuous creation. Terms like true or false are therefore superfluous, according to Deleuze. It is about becoming, in which past, present, and future are melted into each other. The hyalosigns and the power of the false lead us to the first essence of film, which is thinking. Deleuze argues that the modern film causes a shock to thought. This makes a regaining of our faith in this world possible. This is a faith we have lost. The characteristics of modernity, as they were described earlier, have created an incoherent situation that does not make any sense to us anymore. In order to get any grip on the situation we cling to clichés. They have taken over and gained sole-supremacy. This is the image as we have seen it in the annual reports. Deleuze considers this sole supremacy unacceptable. According to him, we have to break through the cliché. We are beings who can think and this is what we have to start doing again. He refers to Heidegger, who also claimed that the potency to think does not automatically mean that we also use this potency. Apparently, film is needed. The shock to thought helps us to perceive the big picture that is normally hidden from us. We see things that we normally wouldn’t see, and which we cannot imagine. Seeing this releases a subversive potency. This is because we see a world that is unacceptable and which we want to resist. We want to believe in this world again. Deleuze describes it as follows: For it is not in the name of a better or truer world that thought captures the intolerable in this world, but, on the contrary, it is because this world is intolerable that it can no longer think a world or think itself. The intolerable is no longer a serious injustice, but the permanent state of a daily banality. Man is not himself a world other than the one in which he experiences the intolerable and feels himself trapped. (1989, 169, 170)

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The film shows us that a world of clichés is unacceptable. We do not want to believe in another world, but regain our trust in this world and resist the daily banality. It is the banality to which we have closed our eyes, and are unable to perceive anymore. Film can make this visible again. “The modern fact is that we no longer believe in this world. We do not even believe in the events which happen to us, love, death, as if they only half concerned us. It is not we who make cinema; it is the world which looks to us like a bad film” (Deleuze 1989, 171). The world has turned into a bad film, but it can be challenged by the modern film. It can re-open our eyes and in this way allow us to regain our faith in this world. As mentioned before, it is not just about the images, but especially about what is between the images, because here is no logical and successive sequence. We are confronted with an appearance-continuity. The chain of associations is broken. One thing doesn’t lead to another. We cannot draw logical consequences out of certain events or images. It is not the main plot that designates what will eventually happen or what should happen. Images are there for themselves, the connection is lost. What happens between the images is what is relevant. In the end they will show a complete image which is normally hidden from us. This has nothing to do with associations between images. It implies that the parts in between cannot be neglected. It designates the subversive potency that makes us think. It is the essence of the images. This reveals that it is not one uniform image that can give us clarity. We see things again in their raw directness. Concluding, we can state that time is out of joint and that this has resulted in our alienation from the world we live in. We have turned away from the daily banality. We have clung to clichés. The modern film can restore our faith in this world. For this it uses hyalosigns that visualize time being out of joint. They show this without trying to box it up in a regime of means and ends. This also implies that it is only the modern film, or film as art, that can show us the complete picture. This is an assemblage of images in which the relevance lies between the images, and which shows us that there are no obvious actions hidden in the associations of images. There is no logical sequence and there is no evolutionary movement of time. This implies that there is no truth or reality to be found. We are confronted with an appearance-reality. Film is a melting of the actual and the virtual. Through this, we are able to see the world as it really is again. This leads to a shock to thought which, in a subversive way, makes us believe in this world again. Nietzsche’s thought that: “Nobody is material for a society anymore” (1999, 224), becomes relevant again.

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1.10 Nomad & Rhizome Two concepts important in our thinking about organizations and clichés, but which Deleuze doesn’t discuss in his film books, are the nomad and the rhizome. He elaborates extensively on these in A Thousand Plateaus (Deleuze and Guattari 1987). Why are these concepts important in our thinking on organizations and cliché? We have concluded that the cliché has gotten into trouble. The characteristics of the cliché are: teleology, transparency, efficiency, mouldability, the belief in a strong leader, a means-ends rationality, a sequential progression of time, a clear beginning and end, and the happy end. These are the clichés that are important in this research. We have seen that they have become obsolete, because they do not deliver what they have promised. They have made way for a disruptive situation without beginning or end, without a sequential progression of time, in which the hero is absent and where strolling is the only alternative. These are more or less the conditions of the nomad who drifts in the rhizome (Deleuze and Guattari 1987). But how can we describe these concepts of the rhizome and the nomad more specifically?

Rhizome the rhizome is an acentred, nonhierarchical, nonsignifying system without a General and without an organizing memory or central automaton …. (Deleuze and Guattari 1987, 21)

The rhizome shapes a space in which the cliché is of no use. It is a smooth space like a desert, sea, grass plain, or a piece of untouched nature. But it can also be a group of rats crawling over each other or a maze of caves and hallways. There are no fixed paths according to which it develops or which could help us find our way. It isn’t shaped by parts, but by dimensions. The result is that we cannot grasp it with formulas or characteristics. It has no fixed shape that we can turn into a picture. It cannot be designated. We cannot set its coordinates. There is no boundary because it has become obsolete. Whenever we want to take a picture of the rhizome, it has already changed. The picture gives us no useful information. Would film be a possibility? Perhaps, if it makes use of its potency. Deleuze and Guattari (1989; 1998) oppose the rhizome to the tree. The tree is the space of the cliché. It uses moulds. The hierarchic structure of the tree assumes knowledge through fixed and pre-destined structures. There are routes that are laid out in advance, and which we only need to follow. Help is provided by a centralized coordination. The rhizome on the

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other hand has no centre of command. It has no fixed coordinates that we can track down and which could help us find our way, or on which we can depend when we are lost. The rhizome offers no stable situation as opposed to the tree. It develops out of a non-localizable centre and there is no beginning or end. The binary logic of the tree is unusable in the rhizome. The rhizome knows only lines. Through this there are always new routes and paths we can follow. This implies that we cannot predict them based on experience. No—every time it is new. Therefore, the rhizome knows no hierarchy and no memory. Unlike the tree, the rhizome is not the object of reproduction: neither external reproduction as image-tree nor internal reproduction as treestructure. The rhizome is an antigenealogy. It is a short-term memory, or antimemory. (Deleuze and Guattari 1987, 21)

The rhizome has six characteristics (Deleuze and Guattari 1998; 1987). The first two are of connection and heterogeneity, it are about the relation and the not the related (May 2003). Any point can be connected to any other point. This also means that the centre, as it is present in the tree, is absent. There is no centre of power, because everything is in movement. It is a constant state of becoming. A rhizome keeps developing and changing continuously. This is not an evolution that suggests progress, or a constant growth. The movement does not imply progress or decline, but just movement, without any judgement to be made. It can be regarded as antimemory, something in which imitation has no place. It is in a continuous movement. The third characteristic is the principle of multiplicity. In other words, there is no unity or uniformity, but multiplicity or multiformity. We cannot define it as a univocal thing. It cannot be moulded. There are no fixed points, like in a tree structure. There are only lines. As the fixed points are absent, the lines can move in any direction and develop in this way. This implies that there are no usable units of measurement, but instead there are various methods of measuring. Therefore, we always have to find our way in a continuously changing environment. We cannot secure or fix a path. Every image is immediately obsolete and unusable for predicting a future. The fourth characteristic is the asignifying rupture. “A rhizome may be broken, shattered at a given spot, but it will start up again on one of its old lines, or on new lines” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987, 9). A rupture in the rhizome causes no end, just a temporary disturbance. The rhizome remains in existence and keeps searching for new shapes and connections. It is continuously forming and deforming its appearance. As the form is not signifying, this goes for the deform as well. This, however, also implies

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that a form cannot be judged. We cannot conclude that a certain form is desirable or preferable in comparison to another form. As it is not mouldable, a preference is superfluous. It makes no difference which form we crave. The rhizome shapes itself in its own way. The fifth and sixth elements are in the same line of thinking and deal with the idea that in the rhizome only the map is useful, not the route. The map does not contain any fixed paths, but only indications to find a direction. In other words, the path cannot be designated beforehand. It reveals itself along the way, driven by certain indications offered by the map. The rhizome knows no beaten pathways or predetermined routes that we have to follow. It is a continuous search or exploration in a perpetually changing environment that remains alienated. We cannot control it or impose our will. It is the rhizome that forces us to adapt to its movements. The only option is experimentation. The drifting or strolling becomes crucial. It is about being constantly led by things that can be of importance at a certain moment. A pre-fixed plan is of no use. This is opposed to the way in which the copy functions and where there is always the same fixed route. The copy is stipulated. It is useful within the tree structure and can show us the desired route. These solid structures belong to the cliché. A tree suggests that we’re going to the top, or moving towards bifurcations. The rhizome does not suggest this. The various entrances and exits do not all lead us to the same place. This also means that different routes can lead to the same result. However, the route can never be designated, as we are in a continuous state of becoming. Therefore, it is not always clear if we are near an entrance or an exit. There is no clear limitation. Through the undifferentiated passage we can find ourselves in the rhizome without us being aware of this. Rhizomes and trees cannot be completely separated. Rhizomes can be present in tree structures and shape themselves in it and vice versa. This makes it unclear which situation we are moving into. We can assume that we are in a tree and act accordingly, while the situation is rhizomatic. The risk that we start moving with a copy in the rhizome, or vice versa, is therefore lurking. The problem is that the copy is of no use in the rhizome and it can give us the impression that we are moving on paths that are not there. The searching for and following of the route can become an impossible expedition that will result in failure. The same goes for the exploration of the tree with the principles of the map. The beaten paths we think we recognize, confuse us because they pretend to lead us in the preferred direction. This is impossible. The intended goal will not be reached, because it is absent. Confusion can arise because the rhizome

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consists of dimensions and not parts. We can find ourselves in another dimension without us being aware of this. The rhizome doesn’t offer a grip that we can monitor and that can be prepared in advance. Deleuze and Guattari argue: “Where are you going? Where are you coming from? What are you heading for? These are totally useless questions. Making a clean slate, starting or beginning again from ground zero, seeking a beginning or a foundation—all imply a false conception of voyage and movement” (1987, 25). These opinions of Deleuze and Guattari more or less describe the Dude in The Big Lebowski. We only have to think of his strolling. A new start, goal-orientation, or knowing where you are coming from create a false image of what would or would not be possible. In the rhizome these ideas, which are also the foundations of the annual reports, are unusable. The rhizomes know no straight pathways, and this means that our cliché-like perception, as well as the included action, is obsolete. As the cliché is of no use we have only one option, and that is thinking. The rhizome makes us think. In the tree structure, the world of the cliché, thinking is superfluous. Why we need the cliché in tree structures is therefore evident. Thinking is obsolete here because only the cliché or copy is of any use to us. As the copy is of no use in the rhizome, the rhizome is unfit for reproduction. “The rhizome is antigenealogy. It is a short-term memory, or antimemory” (1987, 21). We cannot go back or trust that which we already know or have experienced—we have to discover and find our way over and over again. This makes the rhizome a completely open experiment in which new connections can be made at random, and which can inform us on new pathways or insights. This is where Deleuze and Guattari take precautions, because: “Thought lags behind nature” (1987, 5). Nature is always moving faster than our thoughts. What does this mean? This means that we cannot think ahead. In other words, we cannot make any trustworthy future plans. This immediately implies a problematic situation for the annual reports. Planning in advance is therefore an activity of which the result should be at least seriously relativized or, even better, doubted. This offers a good reason to cling to the tree structure and embrace the cliché. This at least gives a sense of clarity—although it is untrustworthy, it supplies us with a grip. It prevents feeling lost in a big unpredictable and incomprehensible whole. The drawing of boundaries, although they basically border nothing, can provide a sense of safety. It is not that the copy is worthless or that the known stories should be distrusted. It is more about being able to think the differences. It is not about the choice between the tree or the rhizome, because that would mean that we embed the rhizome in a dichotomy,

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something which we are trying to break out of. It is about multiplicities. Fixed values remain important; or, as Zayani (2000) argues: “Without a minimum of predictability of recurring (and thus regulated) experiences, nobody would have the courage to start a new day” (2000, 109). The cliché shows its necessity in our pursuit of nature. The abolishment of all fixed values therefore seems a not-so-very clever activity, which opposes our sense of security. This security also implies the appearance of the General. This is an unknown appearance in the rhizome. The rhizome opposes any formal leaders. They are there, but without any official role because they are impotent. Their power does not work. Without any structuring of power, the General is impotent. The one who has to draw the lines and see to it that plans made in advance are executed soon finds out that this results in an illusion. The one responsible for unity, clarity, transparency, or the ability to make things appears to be impotent. The General becomes superfluous and he or she shouldn’t appear. “Don’t bring out the General in you!” claim Deleuze and Guattari (1987, 25). This not only addresses the General himself, but also any ambitious potential leaders. This doesn’t suggest, however, that there are no leaders. There are informal leaders, leaders without formal authority. The leadership as it is presented in the annual reports and the pictures of the very confident looking leaders after they have signed on the dotted line are placed in a different perspective. Their role plays no part in the rhizome. They are there, but they are impotent.

Nomad Nomadology is the opposite of history. (Deleuze and Guattari 1987, 23)

The nomad is the character that roams through the rhizome. He is the one who doesn’t accept the General in himself. Through his drifting or strolling, the aforementioned subversive potency steps into existence. He is the character that is capable of breaking through the cliché and exchanging it for thinking. He needs the rhizome as a system without structure. Deleuze and Guattari (1987) claim that rhizomatics is nomadology. In the rhizome, the five elements of the crisis find their home, just as the cliché belongs in the tree. The nomad is the one who finds his way with the help of the map. He is not connected to a certain place, or a destined space, but moves according to unknown pathways through the smooth space. His movement is unpredictable, even for the nomad himself. He is willingly led by

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elements like chance or luck. This designates his way instead of a prefixed plan and goal. Whether his route is the one he should have taken cannot be stipulated upfront or afterwards. He strolls and drifts and is led by whatever crosses his path. The map helps without being dominant. Even if there are beaten paths, the nomad will feel no obligation towards them. He will deviate from these pathways whenever he feels like it, or without any specific reason. The nomad chooses his own path. He goes from one place to the other. “The nomad goes from point to point only as a consequence and as a factual necessity; in principle, points for him are relays along a trajectory” (Ibid., 380). The places are really secondary. They are a hold-up to him. It is all about the route. This does not mean that certain places are of no importance to him. He will look for them in order to leave them behind again. Doing this, he is capable of giving meaning to a certain place. He can feel at home in these places. He is not really a user of the existing and the fixed, but a producer of movement. We can position the nomadic as opposed to the sedentary. The latter is mainly about collecting in a certain and closed place, while the former is mainly about the distribution in a limitless space. The fixed place is absent in the nomadic. Fixed rules and regulations are merely of secondary importance. They are like a pause. “The life of the nomad is the intermezzo” (380). The nomad knows what awaits him. His patience is endless, because: “The nomad knows how to wait, he has infinite patience” (381). But there really is no other option, because his journey is an encounter with the unexpected and the timeless. He is dependent on chance and luck. He is like a contemporary character that dwells through life in an apparently aimless but dedicated way. He is not a hero in the traditional sense, according to characteristics belonging to Hollywood heroes. He is a new kind of hero, like is the ones presented in the modern film. It is the hero we do not recognize as a hero. The hero that isn’t a hero. The hero who cannot be a General, but who can make a difference. The nomad does not really have a fixed or knowable identity. He is without identity. A name is just an appliance for the nomad and doesn’t designate his identity. In the example of The Big Lebowski, we can describe the Dude as a nomad. His name, which basically isn’t a name but a denomination, characterizes his appearance as a nomad. His is outside of any determined pattern. He is exemplified by indifference. At the moment he is exchanged and his original name, Lebowski, becomes relevant, he gets stuck in a world of means-ends rationality and mouldability. He gets an identity. He becomes different and is sentenced to make choices. Different demands a difference. It demands choices.

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Opposed to the character of the Dude we find Walter Sobchak, who can be described as the aforementioned General. He is the one who badly wants to be a hero. Belgian philosopher Rosseel (2000) characterizes this as a pilgrim, and makes a comparison between the characters of the nomad and the pilgrim. According to him, the nomad is an “einzelgänger,” someone living just by himself and in this way, trying to find his way and simultaneously being dedicated to whatever happens around him. He drifts in the complexity and incomprehensibility of his existence. He is not led by clichés but breaks through them. He has no written script for the future and in this way he also knows no solidarity to others. “The pilgrim on the other hand claims to be hard-working and is ready to impose a conscientious utopianism onto his fellow-man, when necessary even with the help of the conquering of certain centers of power” (179). The pilgrim is dogmatic and fanatic. He is extremely involved and wants his surroundings to be aware of that. If there is no other way, he wants to change these surroundings in order to impose the pilgrimology or the pilgrim-belief. He wants to be a hero and show off the General in him. The pilgrim believes in a means-ends rationality. He believes in the restriction of a possible experience of the world. He uses the classical images that are familiar from the senso-motor scheme. For him the world must be transparent, synoptic, explainable and mouldable. He believes in the cliché. But it is not the intention to strictly separate these characters or to draw rigid lines. We can state that each character contains elements or behaviors of the other character. There is no limited and strictly defined whole with certain characteristics, but it is about a fluid character that interacts with its surroundings. It is a fusion in which one battles the other for sovereignty. The winner is the one most prominently visible. According to the Irish philosopher Richard Kearney (2003), this would imply that the losing character apparently behaves like the other, that it is exemplary for the fear of the other. This losing character is then probably one’s own unknown fear. It is the fear of showing your other side. From this we can conclude that the pilgrim, deep in his heart, wants to be a nomad. He probably also acts this way. This means that there is a lot of pressure on the pilgrimage. Means-ends rationality becomes as good as impossible. It becomes a “mission impossible.” The character of Walter from The Big Lebowski, who presents himself as a general, gets mixed up with the character he really wants to be, which is a nomad. We have already concluded that in this film nobody is who they really pretend to be. The Dude is probably an exception to this, because we get the impression that he really tries to be nobody. He is indifferent. He has

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no identity. The cowboy in the voiceover explains a little of what the Dude should be, but concludes that: “There was a lot about the Dude which didn’t make a lot of sense to me.” The character of the Dude is a mystery. He is basically nobody and has no problems with this. As a matter of fact, he feels perfectly at ease with this. He appears to be the only one who really feels at home. This is confirmed by: “the dude abides.” Here, he proves to be a nomad again. He abides in the situation. He accepts the world as it is and doesn’t try to control or mould it. He doesn’t try to change it into a “better” world. This is the role of the nomad, who abides and lives in his surroundings. The world is the world as it is in all its mystery.

Stalker When a tree grows, it is slight and flexible and when it is dry and hard, it dies. Hardness and strength are the companions of death. Flexibility and weakness express the freshness of existence. Therefore, what is hardened will not survive.

The above citation is from the movie Stalker (1979), by the already mentioned Russian director Andrej Tarkovsky. The film sketches the journey of three persons: a writer, a professor and the stalker. Their aim is to find the fourth chamber hidden in the so-called Zone. In this chamber, the deepest desires are fulfilled. The Zone is a space of indiscernibility. In other words, it is incomprehensible for us. We do not know its ways, because there are none. We do not know its laws, because there are none. Our means-ends rationality is useless here. The only option is to surrender to the Zone and more or less merge into it. It is a rhizome in which only a guide, like the stalker, knows how to find a way. His travel companions are the professor and the writer. They want to find the fourth chamber, and therefore step into a world in which they want answers, but soon enough they find that these answers do not exist. Even if they did exist, they would not be able to find them, or they would find that they are useless or even pointless. With the Zone, Tarkovsky pictures a world in which we have to leave our beaten paths and firm beliefs. We have to endure life as it is. Live life

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and immerse ourselves in it. This is contrary to wanting to understand or explain it. It is an environment that is unpredictable and ominous. It is the world of the irregular and the unexpected. We see this exemplified through the leaking. It displays the fluid character of our reality. We cannot fix it. The continuously changing, the indiscernible, the incomprehensible, the fluid, comprise the reality of our becoming. The world is not a fixed phenomenon from which facts or realities can be retrieved. Whenever we try to mould it, it flows away. The only solid thing we can hold on to is faith. This is not a stubborn religion but a belief in love between people. In the world of Stalker this is the only thing people can trust in a time when the science, technology, logic, and knowledge of the world have become obsolete. On the other hand, the leaking does also supply connections. It shows us how things flow into each other. It shows how connections are created and exist but are unpredictable at the same time. It shows a continuous infection. We cannot escape from its influence. We can choose a path, but never in a state of immunity from the world. The world infects us and dissolves the immunity. It is impossible to turn off this sensitivity for surroundings. At the moment the leaking surroundings infect us our cliché-like pattern of behavior becomes obsolete. Copying is pointless, because every situation is different. The straight-line tree structure of cliché, in which we can find our way without asking what we have to do, does not function anymore. This unpredictability and incomprehensibility force us to think. The writer and the professor have lost the capability to be infected, to let it happen, to endure it. They have lost the ability to think. This causes problems for them in the Zone. In order to find your way in the Zone infection is needed. The Stalker gives this sensibility back to them. They learn again what it is to live life in all its intensity, capriciousness, and unpredictability. The stalker is the nomad and knows how to find his way in the Zone. At least, that is what we as viewers assume, and he probably assumes the same. There are no certainties. At the moment you could claim that you know the way, this would imply that the way is a fixed thing. The way would then be knowable as a path. This, however, is not the case. There are some known points, like the beginning or the end, but these are subservient to the route. This route decides how the stalker moves and how he takes his traveling companions along. Whether or not they go along remains their choice. This is a choice between the pressure of desire or the trust in a beaten path. The searching of the stalker awakens their suspicion. Their travel shows that there are various entrances and that their destination might be there, but this doesn’t mean that they will get there.

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The film shows us that this does not happen. Instead, they come to new insights. They have no choice but to think. Not only about the journey in the Zone, but about their lives. Thinking is the main thing and the journey through the Zone is subservient to this. During their journey, there is only indifference about what is happening around them. It is incomprehensible and therefore a choice becomes obsolete. They can only endure it. They can only live through it. Because what does a choice mean in a situation which is unknowable and in which you also do not know what the choices are, or their consequences? Their cliché-like perception is of no use here. They are condemned to thinking. In their role as nomads roaming through the Zone, we also notice that names are superfluous. Although they have pasts, their identities are questioned and prove to be of no use. The writer and the professor get rid of their old identities. They become flexible and weak again, and are once more able to embrace the freshness of being. Tarkovsky is quite brief and concise on the question of what the Zone really is: “The Zone is the Zone. It is life itself, in which man is defeated or can maintain himself. Whether man can persevere depends on his sense of self-respect, on his ability to distinguish the essential from the temporary” (2006, 192). The superficial ephemerality is repudiated. The neighborhood immunity is dissolved. The craving for domestication of feelings and expectations is abandoned. It is all about disharmonic life in which the soul searches for harmony.

1.11 Conclusions In this chapter, I have further explored Deleuze’s thoughts considering cliché. The first question of this research—What are Deleuze’s thoughts on cliché and film?—is answered. The clichés in which we are caught have been denominated as: teleology, transparency, efficiency, a meansends rationality, trust in the strong leader, mouldability, a sequential movement of time, a clear beginning, and the happy end. These are the clichés that are dominant in the annual reports. Deleuze makes a strict delineation between the classic and the modern film. According to him, the modern film uses the potency that film had all along. This potency enables us to see the real-reality. This raw and unavoidable image of the world is what is normally out of our perceptual range. This classical perception means that we only perceive what we want to perceive. It makes us see only clichés. The modern film on the other hand uses the potency to break through the cliché. For this change, a crisis is needed. The five elements of the crisis are: a dispersed and multiple

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situation, no logical sequence of occasions, the strolling, the dependence on clichés, and the sole supremacy of clichés, in such a way that a plot is suspected. These elements caused the standard script for acting to become obsolete. It is the world in which the strong and formal leader, the General, is absent, and where identity becomes superfluous. The Italian neorealism and French nouvelle vague display a world in which we do not really know what to do, and in which we are forced to think. It shows a world for which we have closed our eyes, because it is strange and intractable for us. It is a world in which we need to think and which is not fully determined. It is a world that requests to be explored in a strolling way. It is a world in which action is not taken for granted. Through elements like the frame, the shot, and montage, and images like perception, action, affection, hyalosigns, and the power of the false, the characteristics of film have been researched. Added to this were the concepts of the nomad and the rhizome, which are absent in the film books of Deleuze, but which are described in his other work, and which are relevant for our thinking on clichés and organization. We have noticed that the world of the cliché takes place in so-called tree structures. As the opposite of the tree, I have described the rhizome. The cliché is unusable in the rhizome. The rhizome knows no memory and makes copying impossible. A complicating factor is that it is not always clear if we are in a tree or a rhizome. This is problematic for the annual reports. If they only rely on tree structures then there seems to be no problem. However, if they also enter into rhizomes their cliché-like approach becomes obsolete. The latter is unavoidable and they will enter into rhizomes, as I have concluded that the border has become obsolete. They will be infected by their surroundings. This causes the cliché to be become unusable and the mould that shaped the annual reports will disappear. In the next chapter, I will research this further. For this, some films will be described extensively. The second question—What does the film show us, according to Deleuze?—will be answered. I will look specifically at the questions: What is the cliché we have to dispose of? In what way does this make us think? What is the connection to organization?

CHAPTER TWO FILM AND CLICHÉ

2.1 Introduction We have seen that the clichés in which we are caught have become unusable. They do not function as promised anymore. Their uselessness is designated by a dispersed and multiple situation, no logical sequence of events, strolling, and a blind faith in clichés. This makes us prisoners of the sole supremacy of clichés. We find ourselves in an enigmatic situation—we keep clinging to clichés while we simultaneously notice that they do not deliver as promised. Why is this happening? Why are we afraid to see anything other than clichés? We have also concluded that only film has the potency to break through these clichés and show us the world in front, behind, or next to the cliché. In this chapter we will discuss some of these modern films. Through these descriptions, it will become clear that the world of the cliché has become obsolete. We will notice that our standard script for acting, on which the clichés are based, is of no use anymore. Therefore, we do not know what to do in certain situations anymore, and this forces us to think. This is what film can show us. The films I will discuss are eXistenZ (1999) from Canadian director David Cronenberg, Do the Right Thing (1989) from American director Spike Lee, and Clerks (1994) from American director Kevin Smith. These films provide us with insights into our thinking on cliché and organization. When discussing these films the three questions, as formulated in the introduction, will be answered. These are: What is the cliché we have to break through? How does this make us think? What is the connection to organization? Before doing this, I will go into the appearance of film. How can we look at film and in what way has been film looked at? First, let us return to The Big Lebowski.

2.2 The Big Lebowski (part 2) Who the fuck are the Knudsens?

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This is the question a surprised Dude asks himself while he explains to private eye Da Fino what he has discovered at the end of the movie. The question emphasizes the total confusion, which exemplifies what is happening in this film. Nobody really knows what is going on. They are acting in an incomprehensible world. The standard script for acting has become obsolete. The Dude, who assumed he knew what was going on around him, is informed otherwise by Da Fino’s elaborations. This Da Fino turns out to play a part in the kidnapping as well. Who are the Knudsens, who is Da Fino, and who is the Dude? These questions cannot be clearly answered. What is happening is an enigma, as is why it is happening, who the various characters are, who they pretend to be, and what their motives are. We can conclude that it is a chain of events that, however unlikely, have nevertheless happened. This is exemplary for the elements of the previously mentioned crisis. It is not a straightforward uniform situation, but one that is dispersed. It is about strolling and drifting instead of clear-cut actions on a beaten path. There is no logical sequence in time. Although this logical sequence is absent, we see people pretending that nothing unusual is going on, as if it is a world they should understand. They try to play a recognizable role with the available information at hand. This should justify their acting in this world. But are these really roles that the other actors or the viewer can understand, and do the actors themselves really understand what is going on? The kidnappers want money. The robbers also want money. Walter wants money, to be a bowling champion, and give off an image of relentlessness and reasonability. This is a combination that is difficult to steer in a successful direction. Donny wants to bowl and feel secure with the friendship of Walter and the Dude. Jesus Quintana wants to be a bowling hero and impress others with his appearance. We see that they are all looking for identities without really knowing what they should look like. This gives the impression of experimenting with behavior and appearance. What this should lead to remains unclear, both for the viewer and for themselves. It is a continuous search in which there is probably nothing to be found. Therefore, they get caught in situations that become more and more fuzzy. This results in their role becoming even more complex, both for them and their surroundings. Eventually, this leads to a situation in which nobody really knows what is going on. Pretending to be someone leads to an uncomfortable chaos. On the other hand, acting in this chaos doesn’t seem to make them unhappy per se. Strolling implicates that you cannot get lost, because the rhizome always supplies new connections. An important part in this is played by the bowling alley. This is a safe haven. Here, they don’t have to worry about the effects of their acting.

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Roles can be played in safety. Apparently, this isn’t a risky situation. Even Walter’s action, in which he threatens a competitor with a gun, is only a threat. It fits his role. Security is an important element in the various roles that the actors play. It is part of their search for grip. The people in the bowling alley find this security in the game they are playing and the accompanying rituals. For the Big Lebowski it is his wheelchair and his pretended success. For Walter it is his Vietnam past and his Jewish background. For Jesus Quintana it is his bowling act and his theatrical pink outfit. For the porn actor Karl Hungus it is his part as Uli, one of the nihilists, someone who wants nothing besides money. For the chief of police of Malibu, who molests the Dude, it is his police outfit and his safe spot behind his desk. These are settings and facades offering safety to the actors. But these facades also cause confusion. For the adversaries it seems clear what is going on, but it actually isn’t. This changes the safe clarity into a lack of clarity. Bunny Knudsen is Fawn Knudsen and Bunny Lebowski. The same Bunny is mistaken for the wife of the Dude. The name Lebowski doesn’t give any clarity either. Only a detective, like Da Fino, can make sense of all this. It is understandable that the Dude shouts: “Who the fuck are the Knudsens?” Obviously, you have to be a detective to figure out what is going on. It is unclear for the actors, but also the viewers cannot make any sense of this. The only option is to try and follow the entanglements and create a story out of it. Incomprehensibility rules. There is no more difference between fantasy and reality. It is a continuous interaction between the various parts that are played out of fantasy, wish, or necessity. All the actors want to be someone they are not. They are dissatisfied with their own characters and therefore flee into other roles. What that other role should look like or if they really want to play that other role remains unclear. It is a situation of continuous disorder and dissatisfaction. What can they do in a world where all the familiar foundations have disappeared? This also suggests that it is not possible to draw a line between the various roles. There is an interaction between fantasy and reality, between appearance and reality. It is never about a pure condition that is traded in for another pure condition. It is a state of continuous disorder. One part parasites more or less on the other (Serres, 2007; Taylor 2001). “We parasite each other and live amidst parasites” (1982, 10) claims French philosopher Michel Serres. All our acting is permeated by parasitizing. It immediately affects relations and knows only one direction. Stating this, we should realize that the word “parasite” has three meanings in French. It can be a biological or a social parasite, or, as a third option, noise. It is especially this third option that is present in all acting. Every situation is permeated by noise, which causes

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any stable situation to be impossible. This also increases complexity. It leads to an unknowable and untrustworthy situation. The characters cannot find any safety and the plot becomes opaque. The only exception to all this is probably the Dude. The disorder does not disturb him. He does not feel like being somebody else. The fact that he switches his name, Lebowski, for a more common expression like “Dude” emphasizes this. He roams around like a nomad in the entanglements shown in the film. He even becomes some sort of a protagonist without having the slightest intention to. Through mistaken identity, he acquires a name and becomes Lebowski again. This ignites all the actions around him. It puts his world in motion. The main cause of this is the nagging of Walter. He believes the Dude should do something and drags him along. The Dude has to act according to the thin line Walter has drawn between what can and cannot be done. Despite this, the Dude remains the Dude, whatever that should mean. At a certain point in the film he complains: “I could be sitting here with just pee-stains on my rug, but no ….” Walter, however, doesn’t leave him any space and argues that whether he acts or doesn’t is no matter of free choice. It is all about the protection of “basic freedoms.” His cliché-like reasoning is the trigger for the initiation of the entanglements in the film. The actual is fused with memories and fantasies. In order to make this situation manageable or maybe even find an explanation for this, they refer to the idea of the game. “It’s all just a game, man,” claims the Dude, while he explains to Walter what the kidnapping really is. He tries to lighten the situation by suggesting that it is all just a harmless game. Games, however, are not harmless, as a mistake in the bowling alley can result in a gun being pointed at you. Reducing life to a game is their way to make the world and all that happens in it manageable. The problem, however, is that when they transform their reality into a game a new incomprehensible reality arises. Game and reality become synonymous. Their escape into the game is an escape from one game into another, or from one reality into another. However, they perceive this differently. Kidnapping as a game, as a joke, does not fit their idea of reality. It is considered to be a serious case, in which jokes are prohibited. When the Dude suggests that it is all just a game, Walter becomes furious. In the beginning he laughs about it, but this changes when it gets too close. The joke does not belong in the serious and real world. We notice that this world, which is a game for them, is funny on the one hand, but causes imprisonment on the other. In the beginning they laugh about it, but when they get involved too deeply, when they lose control of the game in other words, they become irritated and want to get

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quit. Managing reality creates disorder. The safety is gone. They do not know how to act anymore. This is what The Big Lebowski wants to show us. The actors get caught in a game they do not understand, and in which they cannot act anymore. It evolves into a threatening situation. The only way to escape is to deny that it is a game and claim that it is a reality. A game is played without interests and without danger. The reality is the real world and this contains danger. You have to be cautious. The annoying thing is that you do not step from the game into reality, but from one game into the other, or from one reality into another. This is all connected to the crisis as discussed in the previous chapter. In this, the image does not address a straightforward but a dispersed situation. There is no clear sequence of events. The sensory motor scheme has become obsolete. The action is not included in perception any longer. This results in a supremacy of clichés. The actors do not know what to do anymore in a situation they experience as dispersed. As mentioned before, it is not just the actors in the film who consider the situation to be disordered, but the viewers as well. We can state that the situation is unknowable. We can interpret it and judge it, but whether this is of any use remains unclear. Teleology, transparency, knowability, or mouldability are ideas that become obsolete because of these entanglements. But the situation is not only disordered, it is also endless. It is like a playful and endless drifting in a life as a game. It is the never-ending circle, like ouroboros, the mythical snake that eats its own tail.

2.3 The Appearance of Film (part 2) As mentioned in the introduction, there have been earlier investigations to describe the relation between film and organization (Parker 2002; 2000; 1998, Parker and Cooper 1998; Boozer 2002). In an original way, this relation has been researched without taking the specific characteristics of film, as described by Deleuze, into consideration. As stated, these characteristics are relevant for our thinking about clichés. In these investigations, film was only regarded as an influential representation. This representation can have a considerable impact on organization. The problem with this is that film is not about showing something that informs us on what to do. No, it is about displaying the real-reality of the world in a way that makes us think. It is not about the representation but about the film’s potency that can make us think. Besides these books on organization and film, the works of Deleuze on film have also been discussed without a connection to organization or cliché being made (Peretz 2008; Buchanan and MacCormack 2008; Bogue 2003; Pisters

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2003; 2001; Raessens 2001; Flaxman 2000; Kennedy 2000, Rodowick, 1997). These works miss the specific link to organization, but can nevertheless help us in our thinking on organization and cliché. Film is not just film. In order to grasp its potency it is necessary to make a distinction between films that use this potency and those that don’t. Making films without using its potency can be done under the influence of the commercial ambitions of film. Hollywood is considered to be an influential factor in this: the Hollywood industry … reduced directors to the role of illustrators of scripts based, for commercial reasons, on the standardization of plots and on the audience’s identification with the characters. (Ranciere 2006, 3)

This approach strengthens the role of the cliché instead of debating it. But it also fuels the critique in its influence on day-to-day life, as caused by the standard Hollywood film (Denzin 2007; 1995; 1991). It is about the clichés as mentioned in the introduction: the hero, happy endings, a distinguishable and mouldable world, and a logical sequence of time. We cannot neglect the popularity of these films, which are capable of reaching a wide audience. A marginal comment is the discussion on the negative influences of film on the behavior of people. This one-dimensional view, in which only negative elements are highlighted, seems irrelevant for this research. As mentioned, film is not just about influence, but mainly about artistic freedom, or complete independence. This should generate the possibility through which the potency of film can be used. Film should have the freedom to develop itself as an art form. It should be able to deal with the non-existing, or that which we cannot see anymore, according to Deleuze. These thoughts can be considered as a basis for the three films I will discuss through close reading: eXistenZ (1999), Do the Right Thing (1989), and Clerks (1994) display worlds that have become invisible for us. They show worlds in which the cliché has become obsolete. The characteristics of the cliché are absent and have been traded in for elements of the crisis. We see that mouldability and transparency are absent, that there are no real heroes anymore, goals are absent, and the happy end isn’t really happy. We can even state that there is no real beginning or end. The known world is out of joint. It has become unreliable and its solid values have disappeared. The films show the world in a new and unseen perspective. The new image arises out of a raw directness discussed earlier as typical for Italian neorealism and the French nouvelle vague. What these films show is relevant for our thinking about cliché and organization.

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2.4 eXistenZ The first film I want to discuss is eXistenZ (1999) from Canadian director David Cronenberg. He has become famous for movies like Scanners (1980), Videodrome (1982), The Fly (1986), The Naked Lunch (1991), Crash (1996), Spider (2002) and more recently A History of Violence (2005), and Eastern Promises (2007). Cronenberg’s movies deal with the limitless urge for experimentation that characterizes humanity, and question the cliché—a status quo means decline. This experimentation is steered by big multinationals that designate and control life, while remaining invisible. Technological progress must apparently be achieved, because otherwise the existence of humanity is in danger. This implies, however, that a price for progress has to be paid. It is not a matter of volunteering. No, the stakes are high and unavoidable. This striving also has a dark side to it. Technology has become uncontrollable and unpredictable for us. It is not us using the technology in order to break through the status quo, in order to move ahead, but the technology holding us in its firm grip. The technology becomes the dominant factor. Whether this is steered by multinationals remains unclear. They are invisible, and this goes for their motives as well. Therefore, it remains unclear in what way we can escape technology’s grip. Cronenberg shows us the dark side of technology—a side normally hidden from us. The central feature in his films is the body. The urge for experimenting does not only affect thinking, or our feelings, but also has a direct and visible impact on the body. It is not just a matter of mental and invisible torture. The body fuses with the technology, and gets mutilated or destroyed. In Scanners we see exploding heads. In Videodrome we see a body literary split apart. In Crash we see how the protagonists intentionally get involved in car-accidents to increase their sexual arousal. It is this kind of experimentation that Cronenberg displays in order to show his thoughts on technological progress, its impact on the human body, and the diseased relationship between man and himself, and with his surroundings. Showing this, he does not shy away from using shock effects. This has caused controversies, such as with Crash (Barker, Arthurs, and Ramaswami 2001) in which explicit sex and perversion caused a huge stir. However, it is not Cronenberg’s intention to go for cheap thrills or sensation. He craves artistic independency, although he is a director capable of addressing a wide audience. Cronenberg is a director with a message and he is willing to get this across in an uncompromising way.

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His film eXistenZ deals with the world of gaming and virtual reality. This is already a remark that needs to be approached with caution, because although it seems like the topic is virtual reality, it is basically not. The film shows us life as it is. It is not without reason that Cronenberg claims, “all reality is virtual” (Grünberg 2006). All reality is virtual or all reality is appearance. The fusion of the virtual and the actual, of reality and appearance, is a trademark that we have attributed to hyalosigns, and of which eXistenZ is a clear-cut example. But what does the film show us? With the help of a description of the plot, I will go into the themes of the film through its dialogue used to create an image of the world as it is shown in the film. Simultaneously, I will look at the relevance for our thinking on cliché and organization. Definition eXistenZ The daring new organic game system which when downloaded into humans accesses their central nervous systems— transporting them on a wild ride in and out of reality— an experience intimate beyond expression

The film opens with the introduction of the game eXistenZ, which is developed by the multinational Antenna Research. This takes place in a church in which eleven gamers have been invited to discover the game together with its developer Allegra Geller. It is a game that is downloaded into the body of the gamer. It is not only the capacity to think that plays its part—the whole body becomes part of the experience in which the difference between appearance and reality is erased. We notice that the church is no longer a place of traditional religion, but has become a space for gaming. Gaming is the new religion. The test group present in the church has been carefully selected, as apparently a lot of money has been invested in the development of this game. Testing is important to eliminate certain growing pains or deficiencies. Apparently, manufacturing involves some risks that cannot be undone. Certainty is demanded, because the stakes are high. Allegra introduces the game with the following words: The world of games is in a trance. People are programmed to accept so little, but the possibilities are so great.

The possibilities of the game exceed the programmed and limited world we normally perceive. If people had more fantasy, guts, and feeling for adventure, life would offer more possibilities. It would be richer and could

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be fully experienced. People are apparently trapped in some sort of constructed cage, which is exemplary for their lives. We should break out of this cage or, to use the current nomenclature, break out of this mould. The beaten path, thought to offer security, should be abandoned. According to Allegra, games can help us with this. Then she starts the game, which is driven by organic game-pods. These are placed in the laps of the players. Through so-called umbycords— organic umbilical cords—they are connected to bioports. Bioports are bodily orifices in the spines of the players. The umbycord is literally plugged into the back. The technique penetrates the body. These sexual activities are typical for Cronenberg’s movies. At the moment the game really starts, someone in the audience jumps up and screams: “Death to the demoness Allegra Geller.” Allegra is shot with a gun made out of bones. The bullets are teeth. Those wanting to free people from their cage are killed. Apparently, they undermine a safe and sound world. The game seems to come to a sudden end. However, Allegra survives the assault and flees in panic. Ted Pikul of Antenna Networks takes care of Allegra and they both flee the church. We see them escaping in a car driving through a world which is grey, cold, dark, and disconsolate. This atmosphere remains for the whole film. We see an almost bizarre austerity, which is perpendicular to big Hollywood productions that normally portray virtual reality. This enables the viewer to focus their attention on the game completely. Allegra asks Ted who he is—working for the same firm doesn’t mean that you know one another. He informs her that he is a marketing-trainee of Antenna Research. Allegra is irritated: I’m marked for death and they send me on the road with a PR-nerd.

Staff-members are apparently nerds in the world of eXistenZ. Ted is only interested in Allegra’s safety, while her main drive is the safety of the game. She feels personally connected to it. But it is also a game that you play together, and therefore she needs Ted. She needs him to figure out if the game still functions after the assault. She is shocked when she discovers that Ted has no bioport. The reason is that he didn’t want to run the risk of being crippled. Allegra, however, insists that Ted get a bioport. She has to know whether or not the game is damaged. Besides that, she wants Ted to enlarge his limited world with the world of the game. She wants to play the game and free him. This is it you see. This is the cage of your own making,

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She wants Ted to escape from his cage, his prison, which is his life. She wants him to experience an enlarged world. The possibilities are limitless, so why would you want to be imprisoned? In order to get a bioport installed, they seek help from an attendant at a filthy looking gas station. It is an unhygienic place. The hygiene that is exemplary for organizations (ten Bos and Kaulingfreks 2001) and meant to reduce infection and dirt is absent. The technique is no longer clean or hygienic. There is no more laboratory sterility. No, the technique is dirty, greasy, and unhygienic. The body is no longer protected from dirt, but is infected by the technique. It is not a world that becomes cleaner, purer, and thus safer, but one that gets polluted and greased-up. Progress goes hand in hand with decay, pollution, and infection. The idea of progress gets a whole new conception. It is not the cliché-like world that could be trusted and felt secure. The bioport is installed by an attendant named Gas. However, as soon as they want to use it to play the game, things go wrong. The bioport doesn’t function and the game gets damaged. As it turns out, Gas has other plans. He points a shotgun at Allegra and threatens to kill her. He informs them that Antenna Research has issued a so-called Fatwa. Whoever kills Allegra gets $5 million. Cronenberg got the idea of the Fatwa from an interview he conducted with writer Salman Rushdie (Grünberg 2006), who himself was the victim of a Fatwa. However, in the film, the Fatwa is not grounded in religion, but is issued for economic reasons. The organization has gained religious proportions and power. It has become the new worldleader, and the role of the church has ended, as shown in the opening scene. Allegra tries to change Gas’s mind, and refers to Antenna Research as “The Crazies,” claiming they are not to be trusted. Apparently, the organized world of Antenna Research, the new world leader, has lost its mind. Allegra tries to convince Gas of the absurdity of the situation. This doesn’t impress him. By force of circumstance, Ted shoots and kills Gas, and he and Allegra flee, knowing that there is a price on her head. On the road they meet a confident called Kiri Vinokur who gives them more information on the Fatwa. He performs surgery on Allegra’s gamepod that was injured by Ted’s bad bioport. The game-pod is a combination of organic parts and synthetic DNA, and according to Kiri, an animal. This living game-pod, together with the umbycords, supplies a connection between the various human bodies, and in this way enables them to play

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the virtual game. It can be regarded as the directing organic element between humans. In other words, an animal directs the game. We need the animal to escape the cage. We need the animal to use the wider possibilities that life has to offer. We are becoming animal. In the meantime, Ted is supplied with a good functioning bioport, and Allegra convinces him to step into the game. Before they start he wants to know why the game is played. He wants clarity on the purpose. Pikul: Allegra:

What precisely is the goal of the game that we are playing now? You have to play the game to find out why you are playing the game. That’s the future Pikul. You’ll see how natural it feels.

Only by playing the game does the meaning reveal itself. There is no predeterminable or explainable goal. You have to immerse yourself in the game to understand what it is and what the reason for playing it is. You have to immerse yourself in the possibilities of life without knowing in advance what awaits you. According to Allegra, playing the game is the future, and this is apparently designated by playing. The game opens new worlds which are virtual, but also the world. At last they can play the game and they arrive in a shop. We see a new setting and slight changes in the physical features of the actors. Ted Pikul notices that his game-character says things he would not want to say. It is as if he isn’t in control of what he is doing and saying. It is as if someone else controls him. He isn’t in command of himself anymore. The idea that people know what they are doing and saying seems to be a misconception. Ted is slowly getting out of the cage of his regulated cliché-like life. Startled, he confesses this to Allegra: Pikul: Allegra:

God, what happened? I, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s your character who said it. It’s a kind of schizophrenic feeling isn’t it? You’ll get used to it. There are things that have to be said to advance the plot and it helps the characters, and these things get said whether you want to say it or not. Don’t fight it, just go with it.

Allegra tries to comfort him. She advises him to immerse himself in the game. He should live it. It can be regarded as day-to-day acting, in which

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the situation requires a potency for adaptations by saying things we really do not want to say. This potency for adaptation consists of a certain degree of empathy. According to the Canadian sociologist Erving Goffman (1959), we should be capable of switching roles in order to act socially. We must be capable of playing various roles. These various roles are apparently played at random, without our being capable of controlling them completely. This makes personality a complex thing. It becomes schizophrenic, not from a psychological context, but from a social one. In the film we see that Ted Pikul keeps astonishing himself with his gamecharacter’s actions. A certain sexual attraction arises between Ted and Allegra. Ted spontaneously sticks his tongue in Allegra’s bioport, her artificial orifice. Allegra: Pikul:

What the hell was that? That wasn’t me, it was my game character. I wouldn’t have done that. Not here anyway.

It remains perfectly unclear if he is taking advantage of the situation or if he really doesn’t know what he is doing. In other words, if he is playing a game in a game. Nevertheless, Allegra and Ted indulge in erotic escapades. The fine line between personal motivation and being driven by the game vanishes. Is it because someone wants it, or because a gamecharacter wants it? Allegra wonders if this makes a difference anyway. It is not about what someone wants, but about the impression made by the acting in a social context. They are not playing the game, the game is playing them. Besides that, they have no problem making clear that, when sex is concerned, it is easier to deviate from your apparently authentic character. The animal urges of lust are clearly superior to the ratio of the game. Again, it is an animal that directs the game. On the other hand we can claim that surrendering to lust is a perfectly human thing. Allegra easily surrenders to the game, while Ted keeps on worrying about the effects of playing it. Allegra:

Pikul: Allegra: Pikul:

Our characters are obviously supposed to jump each other. It’s most probably a pathetically mechanical attempt to hide an emotional tension of the next game sequence. No use for any resistance. What about our new identities? You feel yours yet? They take care of themselves. I’m very worried about my real body.

Film and Cliché Allegra: Pikul:

Allegra:

Pikul:

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Your what? Where are our real bodies? Are they alright? What if they’re hungry, what if there’s danger? They are just where we left them. Nice and quietly, eyes closed. It’s just like meditation. I feel very vulnerable, disembodied

They continue playing and arrive at a former trout farm. This looks like a grotesque space. It is a factory resembling the beginning of the industrial revolution, complete with steel arches and conveyor belts. The atmosphere is grim and the actors appear out of place. It is bleak, deteriorated, and radiates disconsolateness. They are informed that the factory used to be a place for the processing of fish, but now it is a place for the manufacturing of game-pods. The mechanical treatment of the real animal is traded in for the new artificial animal. Real consumption has made way for virtual entertainment. The factory shows that original beauty has fallen victim to decay. We see how nostalgia is maintained in progress. We notice that a factory is not a clinical and sterile place anymore. It is not an immaculate white space in which technology is synonymous with hygiene. This is another example of the absence of the organizational pre-occupation with hygiene. We also notice that this is a space that cannot be designated. It is a Deleuzian “any-space-whatever.” Our standard repertoire for acting, the sensory-motor scheme, falls short. It is a space that challenges our cliché-like perception and expectation and forces us to think. It is comparable with the image of the printing office in the previously discussed film Mirror by Tarkovsky. It is an image of technological progress resulting in decay. There is no logical connection between cause and effect, between means and end. This relation is disconnected. It is also shown that almost anything you see used to be something else. The identity of things is on the move, just like humans are. We can no longer be sure that what we see is what it pretends to be. It is like in The Big Lebowski where it isn’t clear if the actors are what they pretend to be. In eXistenZ we see that this goes for buildings as well. The gas station is for installing bioports and the trout farm is changed into a factory for game-pods. On the other hand, this argumentation contains a difficulty, because in all decay there is beauty. It can even be argued that it is possibly all about the discovery of beauty in decay. This suggests that the world of eXistenZ has a grim but also fascinating beauty.

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At a certain point, Ted doesn’t feel at ease with the game. He wants to pause and step out of it. His reasoning is: I’m feeling a little disconnected from my real life. I’m kinda losing touch with the texture of it.

eXistenZ is paused and Allegra interrogates Ted: Allegra: Pikul: Allegra: Pikul: Allegra:

So how does it feel? What? Your real life, the one you came back for. It feels completely unreal. … there’s nothing happening here we’re safe it’s boring …

Life outside of the game is safe, defined, and thus boring. Nothing exciting is going on. Nothing unexpected happens. Could this mean that the clichélike life is less appealing than life inside the unpredictable game, the life of uncertainty and danger? Does this mean that safety and security lead to boredom? Is this a boredom that is not relaxing, but stressful? Allegra and Ted want to step into the game again. They want to live the possibilities and impossibilities of the game. They are attracted to the excitement and insecurity, but especially to the unknown and the undefined. They return into the game and the dialogue continues: Allegra: Pikul: Allegra:

You won’t be able to stop yourself, you might as well enjoy it. Free will is obviously not a big factor in this little world of ours. It’s like real life, there is just enough to make it interesting.

Allegra tries to convince Ted that he shouldn’t resist the possibilities of the game and should realize that it is similar to “real” life. The difference between reality and game is absent. It is not possible for one player to be disconnected from the rest and to stop at any time to return to “real” life. Everyone is playing the game and it is therefore not important if a return is possible, because a return is pointless. A return means going back into the game. Nevertheless, Ted keeps resisting his appearance in the game and especially the world which is the game.

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Allegra: Pikul: Allegra:

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I don’t like it here. I don’t know what’s going on. We’ve been stumbling around together in this unformed world whose rules and objectives are largely unknown, seemingly indecipherable, or even possibly not existent. Always on the verge of being killed by forces that we do not understand. That sounds like my world alright. If it sounds like a game, it’s not gonna be easy to market it. But it’s a game everybody else is already playing.

Ted has trouble with the unclearness and indeterminacy of the new world. He misses direction and rules. He feels like a stranger in this strange world. He feels dispossessed. With the help of Allegra he tries to find his way. He tries to adapt, but not everybody does this. There is a group of rebels who don’t and who resist the world created by Antenna Networks. They fight for reality and oppose what is being created. Antenna Networks is considered to be the enemy of reality. The problem is however that the rebels are also in the game. They also cannot withdraw from the game, although they try to fight for reality. The rebels destroy Allegra’s game-pod while screaming “Death to Realism.” There is a shoot-out in which Allegra kills a rebel. Ted seriously wonders if they’re still in the game. If not, Allegra just committed murder. Ted threatens Allegra with a firearm, and Allegra kills him through his bioport. Seemingly elated, she asks if she has won the game. The next scene is similar to the opening of the film. They are discussing the game they have been playing, which turns out to be transCendenZ from Pilgrimage. The film so far has apparently taken place in another game. The designers are delighted with Allegra’s achievements. She confesses that her big dream is to become a designer of games. The devotee becomes a designer. In the end, Ted Pikul and Allegra speak with the two designers of Pilgrimage. Ted asks them: Don’t you think the world’s greatest game artists, ought to be punished for the most effective deforming of reality?

Ted Pikul kills the two designers and screams, with Allegra: “Death to transCendenZ, death to Pilgrimage.” A startled bystander asks:

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The film ends and leaves the last question unanswered. It is unclear whether or not they are still in the game. This emphasizes Cronenberg’s point, as well as Allegra’s. It is not a matter of stepping into a game, because you are always in a game. The only option is to temporally step into another game. But it is always a game. However, the design of the game is not always perfect. It contains riddles, even for the designers. It doesn’t function as it was initially intended. There are small details that deviate from the intentions and that are not pre-determinable, but which have a relevant impact. No matter how big and mysterious the power of the organization that designed eXistenZ seems to be, in the end they are not superior, despite their intangibility. The intentions are never fully realized. An example can be seen in the two-headed frog/salamander/lizard creatures born out of unintended genetic manipulation. Allegra calls it a, “sign of the times.” We have to accept that the technique offers nasty surprises, and that these apparently belong to our time. We can never totally control time. It always contains the element of disobedience. Another detail, which is as relevant, is the pronunciation of the name eXistenZ. At the beginning of the film the “eX” is accentuated. During the film this changes, under the influence of accents, in accentuating the “is” and later the “tenZ.” The product-name is not universal, considering its sound. These bizarre organizations (Costello 2000) are not infallible, and despite this unable to control everything. Control leads to uncontrollable situations. After this visual reading we can answer the three questions mentioned in the introduction. What is the cliché we have to break through? The film has shown us that things like teleology, transparency, or a clear beginning and end are absent in the world of eXistenZ. It is an incomprehensible world in which we do not know where we are at a certain point, or what we should do. A cliché like: “a status quo equals decline,” is totally useless, because we do not know where we are at a certain point in time. We cannot talk about a standstill or movement, because any reference to this is absent. It is a dispersed situation in which we can only stroll. This strolling is aimless and directionless. Through strolling—or to put it differently, by playing the game—we keep on moving and things can happen. We witness how the cliché: “a standstill equals decline,” becomes obsolete in relation to technique. Where technique should offer us progress, we notice that this isn’t happening. We see it moving backwards in time and disposing of hygiene. Whether we should distrust it or reject it because of this again remains unclear. The only option is to observe and

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conclude that its role has become incomprehensible for us, after which we continue strolling. This brings us to the second question—how does this make us think? The film makes us think about our relation to the world or reality. It informs us that we cannot act thoughtlessly anymore. We notice that a standard repertoire for acting is useless. We especially notice this while strolling, which has no other aim than to play the game. We notice that the difference between appearance and reality or between game and reality has vanished. Things we have looked upon from a cliché-like perspective show a new image in which our cliché-like acting is of no use. The sensory-motor scheme is useless. We do not know what to do, but we have to think about it. This also makes it clear that this does not lead to a logical progress in events or a happy end. No—we play the game only to play the game. This enables us to answer the third question—what is the connection to organization? The film informs us on how organizations strive for a chronological goal-orientation. This is the basis for the ideas of the annual reports like teleology, transparency, a clear beginning and end, and especially the happy end. This should result in progress and the control of time and space. We, however, notice that these ideas are pointless in eXistenZ. The control of time and space proves to be an impossibility, because life is a multi-layered and multi-levelled game. This makes it impossible for us to find out which level we are on. Time and place offer no security. The space is indefinite and time flows in a way that is incomprehensible for us. Goal orientation is impossible and the happy end is something that will not happen because of the endless strolling. If we look at the organization in the film we can conclude that it is absolutely unclear if there really is an organization or what its role is. In the beginning there are references to Antenna Networks, while at the end of the film the organization is named Pilgrimage. As we are in the game, or have to assume we are in the game, we can also assume that the organization is probably a game character. The acting contains certain recognizable elements, but leaves us in doubt as to what the role or the intentions of the organization are. The role is therefore perfectly incomprehensible. This is what differentiates eXistenZ from films like Metropolis (1927), Blade Runner (1982), or The Matrix (1999). These are films that present a comprehensible world from which escape is possible, and in which a happy end is one of the options. This is impossible in eXistenZ. If we think of the remark of Cronenberg that “all reality is virtual,” we know that this not only addresses the world of film, but our

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world in general. It is the world as a game exemplified by chance and luck. It is the rhizomatic world of the nomad.

2.5 Do the Right Thing Having an idea in cinema is resistance. (Deleuze 1998)

In the previous chapter it was claimed that film has a subversive potency. This potency can enable change. It can make a certain situation visible as it really is in order to oppose it. An example of this is the classic film Battleship Potemkin (1925) from the legendary Russian director Sergei Eisenstein (1898–1948). In the film we see how the crew of a ship starts resisting their barbaric treatment from their superiors. In their opinion, they are driven far beyond what is acceptable. This results in physical violence from both sides. It is hard to tell when this change exactly happens. It is a chain of resistance, reactions to this, and even more extreme resistance. In the beginning there are still thoughts and fantasies about a possible escape from repression. Ways of escape are explored. As these are not found, the verbal aggression evolves into physical violence. It is an interaction of reactions in a multi-complex event. Although the film is based on a sensory-motor scheme, it is of cinematographic relevance through its famous stair scene, and an example of how subversive potency can take a physical form. Another example of this subversive potency is the second movie I want to discuss. This is Do the Right Thing (1989) from director Spike Lee. He is famous for films like She’s Gotta Have It (1986), Mo’ Better Blues (1990), Jungle Fever (1991), Malcolm X (1992) and Summer of Sam (1999). These are socially critical films on the situation of African Americans in the United States. Themes like racism and the influence of clichés are central to these films. Spike Lee’s idea is for his audience to look into a mirror and show how cliché-like behavior obstructs the getting together of certain groups of people. Despite his reactionary attitude, he has been able to reach a large audience with his films. He has done this against the stream of rules and restrictions from Hollywood, and keeping his artistic and creative freedom (Arnold 2003; Fuchs 2002; Guerrero 2001). Do the Right Thing takes place on the hottest day of the year in the Brooklyn suburb Bedstuy. The film shows what happens in one street of this suburb, where various ethnic groups are living together. It looks like a random get-together of characters and their actions. Without any reasons or dominant threats, we see how they go through their daily motions and

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perform their rituals. This apparently unimportant struggle eventually leads to a culmination of ecstatic violence. This is violence that becomes ecstatic in a way that nobody can escape, and they are dragged along with it. The film opens with a dance sequence in which a young LatinAmerican actress goes wild to the sounds of “Fight the Power” by Public Enemy. The text below summarizes much of what the film is about. Swinging while I’m singing … Got to give us what we want Gotta give us what we need Our freedom of speech is freedom of death We gotta fight the powers that be … It’s a start, a work of art To revolutionize make a change nothin’s strange People, people we are the same No we’re not the same Cause we don’t know the game What we need is awareness, we can’t get careless You say what is this? My beloved let’s get down to business Mental self defensive fitness … Don’t worry be happy Was a number one jam Damn if I say you can slap me right there … Fight the power We got to fight the powers that be

Public Enemy deal with the same topics as Spike Lee. According to them, freedom of speech implies being able to decide on your own life and death. This is no matter of indifference. We cannot be without engagement and just let it happen. The slogan “don’t worry be happy” is unacceptable. No, you have to resist the oppressing powers. Subversiveness is preached. After the dance sequence we see the street where the film takes place. One after the other, the various characters roaming this street are introduced. We see the local drunk, Da Mayor. Apparently, he strolls up and down the street aimlessly, his only goal to secure his daily supply of liquor. We see pizza-deliverer Mookie, who has a troublesome relationship with his boss, his colleagues, the mother of his child, his sister, and especially with himself. He only seems interested in the money he makes as a pizza-delivery boy. He informs his sister that: “In a while I’ll be makin’ a move,” but both of them know that nothing will happen. We see the tall and strong Radio Raheem, who walks around all day

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carrying his oversized ghetto blaster, blasting out “Fight the Power” at a ludicrous volume. We see the local DJ Mister Senor Love Daddy. We see the militant hell-raiser Buggin’ Out, and we see Sal and his sons Pino and Vito, who run the local pizzeria. This pizzeria is the focal point of what happens in the film. Where these characters come from, why they are what they are, and why they are doing what they are doing remain a mystery. This is not a world of objectives, goals, and results. It is a world in which people feel dispossessed but where escape is impossible. The only option seems to surrender to boredom. For a long stretch of its two-hour duration nothing much happens, except that people just hang around, go up and down the block, look, talk, look for trouble, just listening to music, drinking, combing hair, just passing the time (Jayamanne 2001, 239)

The other characters living in the film apparently drift and hang around all day as well. This doesn’t stop them from being outspoken about anything they consider wrong in the world and who the culprits are. They simultaneously display a passiveness or carelessness. They consider the situation in which they are stuck unacceptable, but are not capable of changing this. They live for the moment but feel helpless and impotent (Guerrero 2001). In the world of Do the Right Thing there are no heroes or role-models like in the classic Hollywood movies. There are no characters that can make a difference or role models that are inspiring and can lead them on a road to change. It might be that there are characters who want to be heroes, but they fail miserably. Heroes, just like role models, have lost their legitimacy and are unable to be heroes anymore. Heroes have become obsolete, and therefore nobody really wants to be one. We see the daily rituals. They creates the impression of a regular day which shouldn’t bother us. It looks uninteresting and maybe this is what it is. The fact that the film takes place in one day probably implies that it doesn’t matter which day we look at. Every day is the same and the days are interchangeable. Still, at the beginning of the day, the DJ Mister Senor Love Daddy calls out to everyone to wake up. “This is not just an announcement of the new day, but especially a calling to wake up for the possibilities and chances of the day, in other words to awaken for the higher regions of social realization and personal awareness” (Guerrero 2001, 28). Apparently, there are chances. The DJ tries to inspire them and give them hope. The new day is both a new day and a possibility. In either case, there is the possibility to let go of the fatalism and to embrace life and change the unacceptable situation.

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Pino, Sal’s son, also has difficulties with the situation. He works at Sal’s Famous Pizzeria, together with his brother Vito and delivery boy Mookie. When they arrive at the pizzeria, Sal mumbles about the new day and goes into his standard ritual of quotes and greetings. The repetition of this cliché-like ritual enrages Pino. At a certain point he can no longer control himself, and vents his frustration: Pino: I didn’t want to come to work anyway, I hate this freakin’ place, I detest it like a sickness.

Pino wants everyone to know how he hates his work and expresses his hate towards the place. It is the place he hates. It bothers him and basically he wants to break out of this cage. It is a cage that slowly and almost secretly chokes him. But how easy is this escape? As soon as he is challenged he backs down. “You detest this place like a sickness? That’s like really hate you know, that’s hate,” answers Sal. “I didn’t say that,” replies Pino. Now that he has to take a stand, he becomes insecure. The frustration is like a latent subversive potency that doesn’t reach the surface to result in action. It keeps on slumbering, and is impotent. He is someone he really doesn’t want to be. He is however not able to change this situation. The only thing he is capable of is blaming something else. For Pino this is the black neighborhood in which their pizzeria is located. That is the reason he is trapped. It is the reason for his frustration and why his friends ridicule him. It turns him into a victim. He doesn’t see the cause in himself. Besides that, he also doesn’t see the solution in himself. Maybe he isn’t even capable of judging the situation, and even if he could do so he wouldn’t be able to realize any solution. The other one is to blame. This isn’t only the case for Pino, but basically for everyone in the movie. The other holds the solution, whatever that solution might be. The other one is blamed: “You gotta get a fucking life” or “Get a fucking job.” Apparently, they are not able to break through their rusty patterns of thought. Their environment is stronger than themselves. The cliché is shaped by their prejudices. These prejudices obstruct any dialogue or possibility to find out what really bothers them and how they view themselves. The dialogue could trigger a train of thought. Now any thinking is absent and there is only judgement. The other isn’t revealed as himself, but remains the other. Another important character is Sal, the owner of the pizzeria. The interesting part of Sal is the way in which his character was created during the shooting of the film. The actor , Danny Aiello, had trouble with the racial component of his role (Guerrero 2001). Spike Lee nevertheless had

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a distinctive reason for that role, apart from the personality or personal preferences of the actor. Spike Lee didn’t want the actor to adjust his role to his personal taste, because this would alter the essence of the film. The schizophrenic and multiple characters of Sal wouldn’t have made that much sense. This would diminish the complexity of the situation and the way in which it interacts with its surroundings. Spike Lee stood his ground and the film was made as intended. But maybe this isn’t completely true, as: “The script only comes to life in the moment it gets filmed. The final film will always be different” (Lee, cited in Glicksman 1989, 16). The idea that you can designate something in advance and expect it to be carried out in the exact same way is apparently an illusion. The element of chance can never be eliminated. Let’s return to the film. Sal is a character who wants to be everyone’s friend and tries hard to keep the peace. He feels the boiling tension caused by his pizzeria being located in a black neighborhood. As a boss he tries to ease the tensions between his son Pino and the black pizza deliverer Mookie. This last one takes liberties with his obligations at work. Keeping the peace means that Sal has to tolerate a lot. When the tension becomes too much for him, he intervenes in a not-so-subtle way: Mookie: Sal:

Look, people are free to do whatever the hell they want to do. What free, what the hell are you talking about, free, free? There’s no free here I’m the boss No freedom, I’m the boss You want freedom? There that’s freedom You take an order and you take it out. He’s got an order there for you COME ON LET’S GET TO WORK HERE!

Sal tries to make it clear that he is the boss and that they should all listen to him. It is not really what he wants to say, but he sees no other option of dealing with the situation. He feels that he is losing control and uses his power to regain authority. The freedom is disposed of temporarily. When Sal has regained his authority, he becomes quiet again and things go back to normal. This exemplifies a schizophrenic component in Sal. He has multiple characters or masks that he uses under the influence of his environment. The dissatisfaction of Pino is probably also rooted in Sal. It probably even has its cause in Sal. This means that he is a role model that influences the opinions of Pino, although Sal might not be aware of this. Furthermore, Sal is influenced by Pino’s behavior and the tension he radiates in a non-verbal way. Sal is also locked up in his life and admits to

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Pino at a certain point that he has no other option than doing what he is doing. The characters influence each other’s dissatisfaction and that eventually leads to an outburst. Everyone is dissatisfied in their own way, but nobody is capable of doing anything about it. The tension rises. The trouble can be viewed from several angles in which the various truths interact with each other. There is no clear-cut truth. Therefore, the ecstatic violence that takes place at the end of the film can have no winner. Their cliché-like standpoints remain unaltered. We can even conclude that the cliché-like convictions are strengthened. They are not able to reflect on their own standpoints. This blindness hampers their perception. When the militant Buggin’ Out screams that he wants, “some black motherfucking pictures on that wall,” he doesn’t notice that he is standing in front of an enormous billboard image of Mike Tyson. Buggin’ Out is the initiator of the revolt at the end of the film. Nobody really wants to be like him or go along with him, but in the end nobody can escape the aggression he ignites. The situation is tragi-comic because the characters really don’t want each other’s company, but are stuck with each other. The film takes place on the hottest day of the year. This fuels the tensions. The element of heat is purposely brought in by Spike Lee, because he believes that heat can make people lose their minds (Arnold 2003; Fuchs 2002; Guerrero 2001). Heat increases aggression. It causes the tension to rise up from below the surface and present itself. It slowly builds up through small incidents (Khoury 1999). Heat doesn’t decide everything nor is it the only culprit, but it plays a substantial part in the ecstatic aggression at the end of the film. The only one remaining cool and able to bring people together, although that doesn’t happen, is Da Mayor. His alcohol-blurred gaze remains the clearest. In an earlier scene, Buggin’ Out asks Da Mayor if he wants to be their leader in their struggle for the boycott of Sal’s pizzeria. “Mayor, we need your leadership.” Da Mayor refuses resolutely. His misty gaze sees through Buggin’ Out’s intentions. As mentioned, he is the only one who keeps a clear view of the situation. Alcohol shows its other side. At the explosive end of the film there is a gigantic riot, and Sal’s pizzeria goes up in flames. This is caused by the initiators Buggin’ Out and Radio Raheem. They are standing in front of the pizzeria. Radio Raheem’s ghetto blaster screams at a ludicrous volume. The rest have to scream aggressively to rise above the volume. “I can’t even hear myself think,” screams Sal. The heat obstructs thinking. But it is not just the heat, it is also the ghetto blaster. The heat and noise drive people beyond their levels of tolerance. The extreme torture of the senses blocks thinking and

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this eventually leads to ecstatic aggression. This leads to Radio Raheem getting killed. At the moment the verbal aggression switches to physical violence, panic strikes. The characters that never pursue any action certainly panic when they are confronted with, and even become part of, the action. At that moment, they also notice that the hatred for the other is extremely exaggerated and leads to nothing. In the end, no-one wins. They gain this insight at the moment of crisis. This is a moment that is too late for some. Insight demands victims. Spike Lee tries to make people stop and reflect. He shows situations without solutions. He tries to make viewers think, and to not accept the situation as it is. Not by seducing them with senseless violence, but by showing an alternative path that leads to dialogue. Not to resolve differences, but to learn and appreciate differences and accept them. He shows that this is not a matter of observing from a distance, but by immersing oneself in an aesthetically steered process. This process is affected by heat and noise. It is the noise from Radio Raheem’s ghetto blaster and the verbal aggression that have become part of almost anyone’s role. At the end of the film, Sal and Mookie are standing in front of the smoking heaps of rubble that used to be Sal’s pizzeria. Sal: Mookie: Sal: Mookie: Sal:

I don’t believe this shit. Believe it. Are you sick? I’m hot as a motherfucker, I’m alright though. They say it’s even gonna get hotter today.

Sal’s pizzeria is burned to the ground. Radio Raheem is dead, but the problems are still there. The other is to blame. Subversive behavior has been shown, but this has had no constructive effect in the end. There was action, but no thinking. Spike Lee calls for a new way of subversiveness. There has to be a change, but this doesn’t necessarily have to result in ecstatic aggression. Everyone has their own point of view. There are multiple truths that cannot be moulded into one. He calls out to break through clichés, to act and make change happen. This is possible by doing what is good, or in other words, to “Do the Right Thing.” Not that he tells us what this is. We should decide upon it for ourselves. We need unbiased social interaction in which individuality is respected. It is not really about the good as good and opposed to bad, but about what fits a certain context. The good can be something bad or an indistinguishable combination of both. In the end, what is considered good

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is what is interpreted that way by the other. This doesn’t have to be a clear-cut image. The awareness and interpretation of the image presented support the choice that has to be made in order to do the right thing. We should become aware of the impact on the other. Get to know the other in their otherness, is what the film is trying to tell us. The escalation could probably have been avoided if the characters had been able to break through the cliché-like conceptions they have of one another. It is not about judging the other and turning them into a scapegoat. The other is different and is seen that way. Kearney (2003) states that the other slumbers in ourselves, but it is this slumbering that we do not want or cannot recognize. He claims, just like Spike Lee, that it is relevant to learn about the other in their otherness. The other is always the other for the other. Something in ourselves is the other and creates a fear for the other, or as Kearney (2003) states, something in ourselves creates strangers, gods, and monsters. The fear for the other, for the unknown, results in us creating gods that should protect us on the one hand, and creating monsters that we fear and have to battle on the other. However, the gods themselves decide, or like Kearney argues, the “Gods’ ways are not our ways. They bedazzle and surprise us. It is ours to reason why” (2003, 4). The problems with the other inform us on our bifurcated ways of dealing with the strange and familiar. How we handle what we know and what we apparently do not know. Between this is no clear boundary. Kearney wonders how this will evolve in the future, because we live in a society “increasingly dominated by simulation and spectacle” (2003, 5), in which things become increasingly unclear. He states that we show all kinds of evasion strategies. “Primary amongst these is the attempt to simplify our existence by scapegoating others as ‘aliens’ … we refuse to recognize the stranger before us as a singular other who responds, in turn, to the singular otherness in each of us. We refuse to acknowledge ourselves as others” (2003, 5). One the one hand we show evasion strategies driven by our fear for the other, and on the other we apparently crave this fear for the other, again in a subliminal way. This could explain Kearney’s statement that the fear for the other is a slumbering fear in ourselves. We are strangers to ourselves. Kearney promotes dialogue as a remedy against the problems of getting to know otherness. The motto is getting into conversations. But how do you speak about things that you do not know or cannot put into words, and how do you speak about things while you’re a stranger to yourself? Kearney suggests narrative understanding as a solution. The difficult part of this getting to know each other, and making choices in this narrative understanding. What is good? What is bad? Is a definite answer

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possible to these questions, and if this is not possible what does this tell us about making choices? This is not only about individual choices, but especially about choices made in a dynamic social situation. The narrative understanding is a group process in which individual choices are made, while taking the group into consideration. What can we conclude from this with the help of the three questions formulated earlier? Let us start with the first question—what is the cliché we have to break through? The cliché we have to break through is the belief that we can shape life, that society is mouldable, the idea that anything is possible as long as you’re focused on some sort of goal. We have seen how the various characters are stuck in their roles. The idea that they need to have “a fucking life” is present, but it remains totally unclear what that should be. There is not another knowable life outside the one they are leading, or one they would even be capable of living. There is talk about movement, which however never takes place. Time doesn’t play a part because every day is the same. The beginning or the end are irrelevant points in time. When DJ Mister Senor Love Daddy calls out to seize the chances of the new day, we see that this doesn’t have any impact on the behaviors of the people roaming the street. They keep on doing what they have been doing and remain stuck in their roles. “Everyday it’s the same shit,” screams Pino halfway through the film to emphasize that it is an unavoidable repetition of an unwanted situation. There is no exit. For the various characters in the film, it is also a completely incomprehensible situation. As there is an unbridgeable gap between the characters, it is impossible to figure out certain intentions or ways to close this gap. They drift in their street in their own dispersed world in which they really do not want to be, but where escape is impossible. A mouldable society is an illusion. They do not know what to do or what they want. The life they could lead is completely opaque. The second question is—how does this make us think? What is shown is dubious. Not so much because of the explosive ending, but more because of the apparent pointlessness of the acting. It doesn’t really matter if it ends in ecstatic aggression or that someone gets killed. Life goes on in the same tireless and apparently senseless way. We see this shown through Sal and Mookie. It is the never-ending return from which escape is impossible. It is the endless strolling, in which it doesn’t matter where you are going. Opposing this is pointless, because it won’t lead to anything. We do not see any heroes, but instead witness a dispersed situation in which nobody is really capable of escaping the unpleasant role. Being stuck in this role is brutally compounded by the continuous blistering heat.

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This seems to disrupt the existing order. The ecstatic aggression at the end in which one of the characters dies does not lead to any significant change. No, everything stays the same. Death and life each have limited value. The quote “get a fuckin’ life” becomes pointless. The third and final question is—what is the connection to organization? If we think about organization, we have to look at the pizzeria. We see that nobody is really happy at this place of work. They don’t trust each other. We see the “democratic” leader Sal struggling with his integrity. Eventually, he has to drop the mask and present himself as a racist. Work gets depicted as a prison in which everybody is under lock and key. The boundary between work and leisure is absent. The world of Do the Right Thing offers no escape, only the option of getting together. This suggests dialogue in order to regain our trust in this world, as already suggested by Deleuze. However, it also shows that the created order is just an appearance-order. When the heat beats on relentlessly, the apparently harmless and unimportant situation goes off the rails. The daily repetition explodes because of the heat. This heat shapes the resistance people feel to repetition and discipline. The heat shakes people awake and helps them to practice their slumbering resistance. However, this doesn’t lead to any change in the end. No. The following day is just another day, exactly like the ones before.

2.6 Clerks This job would be great if it wasn’t for the fucking customers

The citation above comes from the film Clerks (1994) by American director Kevin Smith. This is the third film of which I will do an extensive visual reading. Clerks was Smith’s debut and breakthrough film, financed with his own money. After that he made a name for himself with films like Chasing Amy (1997), Dogma (1999), Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back (2001) and Clerks 2 (2006), that show daily life in an idiosyncratic way, typified by his razor-sharp dialogue that does not shy away from taboos. In their directness, they reveal a layer that is normally hidden. In these films, relational problems, dreams, and fantasies play an important role. Clerks shows a day in the life of two store employees. These are Dante Hicks, who manages a convenience store, and Randal Graves, who manages the adjacent video store. Dante and Randal are characters that really would like to do something else with their lives than the work in which they are stuck. What that something else should be remains a mystery, just as we’ve seen in Do the Right Thing. We see them

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imprisoned in a role from which escape seems impossible. They are not capable of making a move for change. On the one hand this is because they cannot, or dare not, choose, and on the other it is just sheer laziness. They are where they are and something else isn’t necessarily better. No matter what, they know what they have now—their jobs, the customers in their stores, and especially their companionship. Not being able to choose is caused by not knowing any possible alternative. A goal is absent. These are characters with whom it is difficult to identify, just like in Do the Right Thing. They are not role models. They do not have any exemplary function. The grim black and white in which the film is shot emphasizes their apparently bleak existence. But there is a difference between the two characters that goes beyond Randal’s low brow humor. Dante struggles with relationship problems and isn’t able to make any decisions. He actually feels he should go back to school, but isn’t able to take that step. Randal apparently has no other ambition than to work at the video store against his will. He amuses himself by watching hermaphrodite porn during working hours, and by insulting customers without remorse. Dante, on the other hand, does his best to be friendly to customers and do a decent job. Both of them, however, do not have any real interest in their work. Their main occupation is dealing with personal problems. Their nihilistic existence is exemplified by solving accidental and mostly irrelevant problems. They are not capable of making decisions, and thus relevant solutions that could change their cliché-like and unsatisfying existence are impossible. Clerks, just like Do the Right Thing, takes place on one day in the lives of the characters. This one day is symbolic for their existence in which every day is the same. It doesn’t matter which day you choose, or whether several days or a long stretch of time are shown. The life of the employees is the same every day without any hope for a future in which things will be different. That hope is absent because it would imply that there could be a possibility for some ideal image of their future. This is, however, not the case. It is an aimless strolling that knows no further annoying implications. Only at the moment when they actually would like to change something do they discover that this is impossible because they do not know which direction or shape this change should take. Mouldability is absent. Therefore, it doesn’t matter which day is shown. What we see is an unpretentious sequence of moments that try to give insight into the world of Dante and Randall, and the characters moving around them. The film starts when protagonist Dante’s telephone rings and he is woken up by his boss. He informs Dante that he cannot open the convenience store and asks him to stand in for him. It is Dante’s day off,

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but he wants to present himself as a reliable employee and agrees to go to work. We can wonder if this is reliability or not daring to stand his ground. Maybe he doesn’t really have an opinion, or maybe he is just not able to put this into words? The viewer can ask these questions and try to answer them. It looks like these same questions are bothering Dante. He has a multiplicity of choices, but isn’t able to choose because of indecisiveness, time pressure, or maybe even fear of choosing. Dante goes to work and even if he doesn’t mind, or maybe even likes it, he pretends to be indignant. He behaves like he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and has a hard time because of this. At several moments in the film he informs us that it is really his day off. “I’m not even supposed to be here today” is his mantra. What he is probably trying to say is that he doesn’t want to be there, regardless of the day. Where he wants to be, he probably doesn’t even know. There is an agitated dissatisfaction inside of him that paralyzes his desire for something else. He doesn’t know what to do with the situation or with his life in general. There is no available script for acting. He is condemned to thinking, but his paralysis prevents this. Dante considers himself an employee who works according to the rules, or what these rules should be according to him. He does not really have an own identity. No, as soon as he enters the shop his job-description becomes his identity. This means that he is basically anonymous, which puts him in a position of treating everyone as equal. There is no personal preference. The customers are all the same to him and he is the same for every customer. Randal sees things differently. According to him, he is entitled to personal preferences and is allowed to verbally abuse the customers. Although he has a job description, Randal wants to remain himself and he feels that he is allowed to make personal judgements on the various customers. If he doesn’t like someone he won’t hide it. To him, customers are individuals with their own characters and he is also an individual with his own character. Dante is still loyal to, or maybe just afraid of, his boss. Randal seems far beyond the point of loyalty. He doesn’t care about his boss, and even less about the customers. When Randal verbally abuses another customer, Dante reacts and tries to talk sense into Randal: Randal:

Dante: Randal:

Who cares? That lady’s an asshole. Everybody that comes in here is way too uptight. This job would be great if it wasn’t for the fucking customers. I’m gonna hear it tomorrow. You gotta loosen up, my friend. You’d feel a hell of a lot better if you’d rip into the occasional customer.

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What for? They don’t bother me if I don’t bother them. Liar! Tell me there aren’t customers that annoy the piss out of you on a daily basis? There aren’t. How can you lie like that? Why don’t you vent? Vent your frustration. Come on, who pisses you off?

Randal plays his part as the anti-hero. He leaves no doubt that he isn’t the least bit interested in the customers. He doesn’t feel like playing an artificial role. He can wear his comfortable mask and doesn’t have to pretend. Dante, on the other hand, tries really hard to adapt, but despite all his good intentions is further removed from the customers than Randal. The latter opens himself up to the customers and offers them the option to appreciate his recalcitrant behavior. Dante doesn’t use this option. Through his superficiality, the customer relations remain superficial. On the other hand, we can wonder if there has to be customer relations. “Can you imagine being halfway decent to the customers at least some of the time?” Dante asks Randal in a desperate attempt to convince him to adapt his way of dealing with the customers. Subsequently, Dante tries to explain that they are employees, and that this implies certain obligations. According to Dante, they cannot just do what they feel like doing. Dante: Randal: Dante: Randal: Dante:

My point is you’re a clerk, paid to do a job. You can’t just do anything you want while you’re working. So your argument is that title dictates behavior? What? … I have a title and a job description and I’m supposed to follow it, right? Exactly.

Randal gets irritated by what Dante says, but also by the behavior of a certain customer. He takes a sip of water and spits it into the customer’s face. The customer is furious and Dante just barely manages to prevent a fistfight. The customer leaves the store screaming and cursing and threatening to never visit the store again. Dante starts berating Randal and asks him why he did this. Randal answers: “to make a point—title does not dictate behavior … I like to think I’m the master of my own destiny.” Randal tries to convince Dante of the fact that he at least isn’t locked up in the straightjacket of his job description. He makes his own choices and feels he isn’t accountable to anyone. His future is in his own hands. Dante remains fatalistic and considers himself a prisoner of his job and his life. This is a situation that makes him feel terrible. He doesn’t know how to handle or even escape this. At a certain point, he vents desperately:

Film and Cliché Dante:

Randal:

Dante: Randal:

Dante: Randal: Dante: Randal:

Dante: Randal:

Dante: Randal:

Dante:

Randal: Dante:

Randal: Dante: Randal:

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Why do I have this life? … I’m stuck in this pit, earning less than slave wages, working on my day off, dealing with every backward fuck on the planet … That’s all bullshit. You know what’s your real problem is? … I’m talking about this thing you have … this inability to improve your situation in life. Fuck you. It’s true. You’ll sit there and blame life for dealing you a cruddy hand, never once accepting the responsibility for the way your situation is. What responsibility? All right, if you hate this job and the people, and the fact that you have to come in on your day off, then quit. As if it’s that easy. It is. You just up and quit. There are other jobs, and they pay better money. You’re bound to be qualified for at least one of them. So what’s stopping you? Leave me alone. You’re comfortable. This is a life of convenience for you, and any attempt to change it would shatter the pathetic microcosm you’ve fashioned for yourself. Oh, like your life’s any better. I’m satisfied with my situation for now. You don’t hear me bitching. You, on the other hand, have been bitching all day. … What do you want me to say? Yes, I suppose some of the things you’re saying may be true. But that’s the way things are; it’s not going to change. Make them change. I can’t, all right? Jesus, would you leave me alone? I can’t make changes like that in my life. If I could, I would—but I don’t have the ability to risk comfortable situations on the big money and the fabulous prizes. Who’re you kidding? You can so. Jesus H. Christ, I can’t. So you continue being miserable all the time, just because you don’t have the guts to face change?

Randal tries to convince Dante to break out of his cage, similar to Pikul in eXistenZ. On the one hand, the cage represents a comfortable easiness, while on the other it traps him and results in dissatisfaction. Dante remains under lock and key in his mental prison, which is physically represented by the convenience store where he works. The only thing he is capable of is bitching and whining about his situation. Complaining is an option,

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changing isn’t. At the end of the film, Randal makes a last emotional attempt to convince Dante of the Randal way of life: You wanna blame somebody, blame yourself. “I’m not even supposed to be here,” you sound like an asshole. Whose choice was it to be here today? Nobody twisted your arm. You’re here today of your own volition, my friend. But you’d like to believe that the weight of the world rests on your shoulders—that the store would crumble if Dante wasn’t here. Well I got news for you, jerk: This store would survive without you. Without me either. All you do is overcompensate for having what’s basically a monkey’s job: You push fucking buttons. Any moron can waltz in here and do our jobs, but you’re obsessed with making it seem so much more fucking important, so much more epic than it really is. You work in a convenience store, Dante. And badly, I might add, and I work in a shitty video store. Badly as well.

Randal tries to convince Dante of the fact that they are not only mediocre employees, but also that their jobs are irrelevant. They are jobs that anyone could perform. He compares it to teaching a trick to a monkey. The job consists of copying behavior and abandoning all that deviates from this. It should be behavior as a mirror image of the job description. Next, he refers to Jay, one of the guys hanging around in front of the store. Jay doesn’t even bother taking part in the working life. He accepts the apparent senselessness of life and even immerses himself in it. Jay is comparable to Da Mayor from Do the Right Thing. What alcohol is to Da Mayor, narcotics are to Jay. You know this guy Jay, he’s got it right—he has no delusions about what he does. Us? We like to make ourselves seem so much better than the people that come in here, just looking to pick up a paper or—God forbid— cigarettes. We look down on them, as if we’re so advanced. Well if we’re so fucking advanced, then what are we doing here?

Randal wonders why Dante takes his work so seriously and why they look down upon customers. He believes that if they were really superior to the customers, they wouldn’t work in a convenience or video store. They should escape their grim, meaningless, and senseless existences. Here, the film calls for taking responsibility and making a decision. This is a choice for disposing of the cliché-like and meaningless life, and developing a subversive potency. In any case, it is not about acceptance but about confrontation. Not being content with dissatisfaction but battling it and searching for choices, changes, and maybe even satisfaction in the end. Embracing life in all its possibilities. With this,

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the film offers a direct reflection on work and the extent to which it influences the shaping of an identity. The film makes the viewer think about their own role and the personal interpretation of it in a workrelated environment. What can we conclude with the help of the three questions? What is the cliché to break through? We have seen that the film takes place in a world where goal orientation as well as transparency are impossible. Dante is stuck in his routine and seeks shelter in a situation he dismisses. Reaching or even naming a goal makes no sense for him. This results from his incomprehensible situation, which is unreadable for him. His counterpart Randal is stuck in the same situation, but accepts this. This doesn’t mean that life is any better for him, but that he feels better living it. Considering this, Randal is more similar to a nomad, aimlessly roaming and feeling good about it. The cliché of mouldability is debatable here. We notice that Dante, just like Pino in Do the Right Thing, cannot get rid of this dissatisfaction. He feels trapped but remains unclear about what a better situation would look like. It is a dispersed and multi-faceted situation lacking a logical sequence. We see how the steady rhythm of the clock is disrupted by his boss’s phone call. Therefore, change is an illusion. Randal is caught in this same routine, but it apparently doesn’t bother him. This is not a question of disinterest or acceptance, but about searching for a way without any teleological illusions. How does this make us think? It is a dubious situation. What we see is completely different from what is sketched in the annual reports. We witness two characters who are stuck in their world without any possibility of escape. Mouldability is an illusion. We see that goal orientation becomes impossible because a target cannot be set, at least if this means a target they would really want to reach. There is dissatisfaction, but any solution is impossible and maybe even undesirable. We witness a dispersed situation in which sequentiality is useless. A happy end is an illusion as well. Even the idea that the film takes place on a random day proves irrelevant. The moments that Dante can escape from his dissatisfaction are when his ex-girlfriend surprises him with a visit, or when he can play a game of hockey on the roof of the store. These moments are only short-lived, as his ex-girlfriend becomes catatonic after accidentally having sex with a dead man, while the game of hockey comes to an abrupt end because they lose their only hockey ball. These moments of passion result in disappointments for Dante. They show that an easy escape is impossible. On the other hand, even these passions are

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considered a burden by Dante. Randal deals with these things differently, as he finds his way in these situations and just strolls along. What is the connection to organization? As previously mentioned, we see a totally different image of organization. We see no goal-orientation or coordinated actions. We see some sort of fumbling driven by chance, in which the actors try to act. What happens in these situations seems irrelevant. It doesn’t resemble what is sketched in the annual reports. We see that teleology is lacking, because they are just doing whatever they are doing. There is no transparency because what is happening is incomprehensible. Efficiency is especially absent in Randal’s actions, but Dante’s actions are also inefficient. There is no form of cooperation. They are colleagues, but self-interest always comes first. Maybe Dante is a little more cooperative because he tries to stick to his job description, as opposed to Randal. We see no urge for progress, because the only important thing is getting through the day. Any trust in a strong leader is impossible, because his boss calls in sick at the beginning of the day and then disappears without a trace. The leader shows that he is not to be trusted and one shouldn’t count on him. The only thing that they must do and really want is to get through the day. These images totally deviate from what is presented in the annual reports. These are images that make us think and debate our cliché-like perceptions.

2.7 Conclusions In this chapter I have conducted an extensive visual reading of three films. This has been done with Deleuze’s thoughts on film. The films have shown a world that strongly deviates from the cliché-like world of organization. We have seen a world that is not one-dimensional and cannot be explained in this way. It is a dispersed situation in which the actors drift aimlessly. In eXistenZ, we have seen that this world is more or less identical to a game. Knowability, mouldability, or teleology are pointless. Our normal repertoire for acting has become obsolete. The same goes for the world of Do the Right Thing and Clerks. People are in these worlds without really wanting to be there, but any escape is impossible. We have seen that through their behavior identities disappear, and that everyone is seeking a script to make the situation they are caught in manageable and to become distinguishable for others. Furthermore, we have seen that time is out of joint, especially because these films take place in one day. This implicates that it makes no difference what day it is. Every day is exactly the same. This once again shows that concepts such as beginning and end

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are superfluous. A logical sequence or progress or any possible evolution is an illusion. We have seen the brutal reality of a world as it really is. This is Deleuze’s “real-reality.” A completely different world as sketched in annual reports or textbooks. The films have revealed a world which has become invisible for organizations and to which we have closed our eyes. The images and stories enable us to think about this daily banality of work. They put us in a position to break through the cliché. Do the Right Thing takes place in a street, Clerks in a shop, and where eXistenZ takes place remains a perfect mystery. It is these random places without identity that Deleuze refers to as “any-space-whatever,” and which are investigated in chapter three.

CHAPTER THREE ARCHITECTURE AND CLICHÉ

3.1 Introduction The Future is Now

The citation above is from the film The Hudsucker Proxy (1994), and informs us again that time is out of joint. It also emphasizes that the mouldability of the future is in trouble. This cliché has become obsolete because the future is now, and this implies that we can no longer mould it. In the previous chapters we have seen that the cliché gained supremacy and how film has the potency to disrupt this. The reason is that film can show us the “real-reality.” This is the reality at hand, which we however cannot perceive anymore. This shocks our thoughts and makes us think again. It is this thinking that became superfluous in the world of the cliché. But it is not just time that plays a significant role. Film also shows us that place plays an important role. When film gains its potency we see that architecture is one of its protagonists. We have seen this through the various locations in eXistenZ, like the church or the factory, we have seen it in the street and pizzeria of Do the Right Thing, and in the store of Clerks, or in the bowling alley of The Big Lebowski. Architecture plays a crucial part. Where does this crucial part come from and why is it important for our thinking on clichés? To answer this we need to go back to the five elements of the crisis. These are partly shaped by architecture. We see that the dispersed situation contains strong similarities to a city that is always under construction. There is continuous building and re-building in which memories are torn down and in which the work apparently never ends. Through this, the process of building has an unpredictable influence on our being. We see how a logical sequence is disrupted through the erasure of memories and the altered roads and pathways. The familiar is traded in for the changing and the unpredictable. The only option that remains is strolling. Just like the Dude, we can only roam through the city and its events. In order to get a grip we cling to clichés. We forget how to think

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about architecture and how it shapes spaces, and instead accept the supremacy of clichés. We live in and with copies that we can no longer give meaning to. Through this we are alienated from our surroundings. This makes us live in a homeless way. This homelessness is caused by the cliché, because we do not think about living anymore. It is therefore important to investigate architecture and figure out how the cliché presents itself and what its relation to living is. When doing this, the earlier conclusion that the boundary between work and leisure has disappeared is taken into consideration. We have already argued that the boundary has become obsolete. This implies that architecture should not only be viewed from a perspective of organization, for instance through the physical manifestation of the office building, but that we should judge it in its totality. Why building leads to homelessness is the main question here. In order to answer this, it has to be clear how the elements of the cliché, as seen in the annual reports, present themselves in architecture. We can think of transparency through visibility, which is made possible through the use of glass or openness in an office landscape. Closely related to this is the panopticon as described by Foucault (2001). We can think of mouldability and how it is used when designing or building offices. We can wonder how this is used for the motivation of staff and how it can turn into a programmable machine. The idea of the grid plays an important part. We can think of the logical sequence of time and how that cliché is used for the understanding of “churn.” Churn can be described as emptiness. We can also look at the meaning of heroism through the idea of the skyscraper. But first let us return to The Hudsucker Proxy, in which architecture and especially the skyscraper play a crucial part. In the beginning of the film we see the skyline of a skyscraper-city by night. It appears to be New York in 1958. A tracking shot leads us to the skyscraper of Hudsucker Industries. It towers over the city in an almost arrogant way. It stresses the self-assured and indestructible power of the firm. In front of this skyscraper stands Norville Barnes. We see his nullity in comparison to the enormous monolith. It gives the impression that the almighty will devour its victim right then and there, when he is about to enter the symbolic mouth of the skyscraper. Against all odds, his enthusiasm, but especially his naivety, will see to it that he becomes successful. On top of the skyscraper is an enormous clock that states: “The Future is Now.” It seems obvious that this firm not only wants to shape the image of the city, but also keep time in a firm grip. Space as well as time should make a difference. The film, however, shows that time doesn’t

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allow itself to be manipulated that easily. Time has its own will, which cannot be managed in the end. The strong relationship between time and space brings us back to our thinking about clichés and especially the idea of the “any-spacewhatever.” This can be described as a random space, which is relevant for our thinking about clichés. We can give meaning to it. Its meaning isn’t designated in advance, but offers room for shaping it. It is an indefinite space. It doesn’t open up for mindless consumption, but for production. It offers the possibility of feeling-at-home. It is the space that gives space. Deleuze uses the following definition: Any-space-whatever is not an abstract universal, in all times, in all places. It is a perfectly singular space, which has merely lost its homogeneity, that is, the principle of its metric relations or the connection of its own parts, so that the linkages can be made in an infinite number of ways. It is a space of virtual conjunction, grasped as pure locus of the possible. What in fact manifests the instability, the heterogeneity, the absence of link of such a space, is a richness in potentials or singularities which are, as it were, prior conditions of all actualization, all determination. (Deleuze 1986, 109)

In other words, the “any-space-whatever” makes thinking possible. It shows the importance of space. It informs us that we cannot neglect architecture or the place in our thinking about clichés. We cannot neglect it thoughtlessly. We cannot accept it is as a definite fact, or as irrelevant. It is not a meaningless object, but a relevant actor in organization. Therefore, we have to investigate architecture. In doing this, feeling-at-home plays a crucial part. I will investigate this further with the thoughts of Heidegger on building and living. This investigation is not only about space, but especially about how space is shaped. Why is this important? Reasoning that architecture is crucial in our thinking about clichés, we can also claim that working in organizations takes place in buildings and spaces. This makes the relations between the building, the built environment, and the actor important. In this, the image that can be helpful is that of a new employee, just like Norville Barnes in The Hudsucker Proxy, on his first day of work, in front of a skyscraper. In this skyscraper is the firm for which he is about to work. Besides general descriptions, like websites, glossy magazines, or annual reports, he doesn’t really know what awaits him or what is expected of him. It is this notknowing that gives a sense of unease and this troubles his mind. The insecurity is amplified by the overwhelming size of the skyscraper. The moment of entering calls forth a meaningless emptiness on the one hand and a disciplined chaos on the other. This disciplined chaos can surround

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and envelop him. The building impresses and indoctrinates. It amplifies the sense of unease. A relevant role is played by the way the interior is organized. The walls enclosing the building from its surroundings create their own inner world. This chapter starts with a visual reading of The Big Lebowski in which the role of architecture is investigated. Next, I will investigate the concept of “wohnen” (living) as it is described by Heidegger. I will also look at the individual house and the communal house, like the office building. I will go into its history and the contemporary thoughts about it. Previously mentioned terms like visibility, grid, or churn will also be investigated. To gain more insight, I will use the work and thoughts of American architect Frank Lloyd Wright (1867–1959), as well as the films L’Avventura (1960) and L’Eclisse (1962) from Michelangelo Antonioni, and Playtime (1967) from Jacques Tati. With the help of certain thoughts and ideas from the world of architecture, I will make some remarks about a possible future.

3.2 The Big Lebowski (part 3) In The Big Lebowski we see the relevance of architecture visualized in a diverse and subtle way. Subtle meaning is there without claiming a prominent position as a protagonist. The attention is caught by all the entanglements of the plot, with architecture still playing an important part. This is shown in three ways. Firstly through the city of Los Angeles and its typical appearance. The grid-like street pattern combined with its ever present burning heat sketch an image that is both authentic and enigmatic. On the one hand the city is shown as a repetitive pattern, and on the other as a sphere where excitement is always lurking. LA looks like a grid, but behaves like a rhizome. There is no real centre, there are many entrances and exits, there is no real unity or uniformity, and a rupture doesn’t affect the existence of the rhizome. Secondly, architecture plays an important part through the Dude’s apartment, which exemplifies his strolling existence. The apartment gives the impression that he is just passing through. In the first chapter he is exemplified as a nomad. In the film, we see him strolling. His existence is fluid. He doesn’t behave like he is following a pre-destined and beaten path. It isn’t based on routine. Nevertheless, he knows how to find his way while being led by chance. This also implies that he continuously has to search for his way. Routes do not have a permanent character because they look familiar but remain subject to chance. This temporality can be seen in the idea of renting an apartment as opposed to owning one. This also

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includes the role of the car, in which people in LA spend a lot of time and which is crucial for the Dude’s actions. The car gives the impression that it could be a longer stay. We can regard the car as a residence. He thus lives in movement. He is a nomad. He behaves like a traveller who is stranded and cannot go any further. The fluidity might be an unfulfilled dream that will remain that way. This brings us to the third image, which is the house of porn tycoon Jackie Treehorn. This is the famous Sheats-Goldstein Residence by the architect John Lautner (1911–94). This is a house that takes a peculiar place in the world of Los Angeles through its unique appearance. This is a world in which we mainly see almost identical houses without identity. These are houses that seem to be made for temporary use. This is definitely different with the house of Treehorn. It is a building that wants to be regarded as a monument. It is a timeless icon of this city. This brings us to the unique character of this city, which connects the grid and the rhizome. the curious vertical skyline … of Downtown Los Angeles, a city whose remaining part is … built in a radical horizontal way. Informal, low buildings from a more or less temporary character dominate the image of the grid-city Los Angeles …. (Boomkens 1998, 305)

The grid is fixed in time. It is a solid structure that clearly reveals itself to us, and whose paths we only need to follow. We can regard a grid like a tree structure. We can even see the cliché-like linearity of organizations as a grid. We don’t need to think, we only have to follow its path. Getting lost is out of the question. However, in the above citation we are also informed that the LA grid isn’t really a grid. This is caused by the temporary character of the buildings, as if the inhabitants are, like the Dude, just passing through. The other specific thing about LA is that it displays itself in a horizontal way, as opposed to the vertical manifestation of New York (Nancy 2002; Boomkens 1998; Baudrillard, 1988). LA has a centre, but this is an artificial and basically superfluous place. It is a place from which people remain absent as opposed to showing up. The centre is thus irrelevant in the world of LA. We might think that there could be a reason that is connected to the way the United States was colonized. This would imply that the place of arrival, New York, demands a certain structure with a defined centre as a point of orientation. This point of orientation is superfluous in the place of arrival, LA. There is still a grid-like structure, but this needs no centre. Could this imply that LA has a strong selfregulating capacity? That people are able to find their way? That the centre

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has vanished because everything wants to be in the centre? That LA, and thus the centre, is a rhizome? In The Big Lebowski we see how the inhabitants, despite the linearity and predictability of the grid, have lost their way. They cannot understand the situations in which they are stuck or getting stuck anymore. They are lost despite the fact that they are following beaten paths. Who is who and where they are seem to be continuous questions. The built environment designates how we behave, in other words. In The Big Lebowski, it is shown that this can result in loss of identity and alienation from the situation. The predictability of the grid becomes unpredictable because the inhabitants get caught in a rhizome-city. Strolling offers a way out. In the previously mentioned Sheats-Goldstein Residence, we can recognize a unique piece of architecture. This building breaks through the repetitive pattern. In LA there are more examples like this. We can think of a few works by Frank Lloyd Wright, of whom John Lautner was an apprentice, but we can also think of the works of Pierre Koenig and Albert Frey—architects who started searching for a new and original way of building and living. They didn’t want to copy what was already there. They also didn’t want to copy European styles of architecture, because they were dedicated to the opinion that a building should connect to its environment. This doesn’t mean that copying is out of the question per se, but that it should belong to the space created by building in an organic way. If we go back to the Sheats-Goldstein Residence once more, we might wonder why this is the place for Jackie Treehorn, the porn king. Is this setting in which he dwells a coincidence? Does he feel attracted to Lautner’s piece of art, or could it be that he wants to be something special, and for that reason break out of LA’s repetitive pattern? These are questions that cannot be answered right away. Maybe he wants to highlight himself as a successful businessman, just like the big Lebowski, who is stuck in his wheelchair? The house contributes to the image he wants to give off. This is not about the image other people might have of him, but how he wants others to see him, or maybe, deep in his heart, how he wants to see himself—the image of a respectable, successful businessman who has realized the American dream.

3.3 The Appearance of Architecture In the visual reading of The Big Lebowski the attention has been drawn to the multi-faceted relevance of architecture. This will be further investigated with the help of the concept of living, which we can regard as

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the central concept within architecture. The conclusions of Deleuze—that we are alienated from this world and have lost our faith in it—play a crucial role. We do not feel at home anymore. Therefore, it is important to investigate living, from the idea of feeling at home, and find out what its relation to the built environment is. More specifically, I will look at the relationship between living and the office. What does living in the office mean? The built environment affects our behavior, which implies that building shapes our feeling at home. Therefore, building determines to a large extent whether or not we feel at ease in an environment. Where do these feelings come from? How are they stipulated and what is the influence of cliché-like perception? We can theorize that architects can take this into consideration and offer some sort of “feeling at home” that appeals to our cliché-like perception. According to the thoughts of Deleuze, this would however lead to an estrangement from the environment where we live. It seems like an endless circle. The French philosopher Georges Bataille (1929) considers architecture to be the instrument for leaders to discipline society. We can wonder if there is really such a thing as what he calls the “architectural galley-ship” (1929, 184). We also see architects that are trying to break through cliché. Their motto is “destroy the box!” According to them, architecture is more than just the four walls of the box. Destroying this box should dispose of the cliché and enable certain spatial freedom. We see that architecture is interlarded with contradictory thoughts. The central question is about the relationship between building and living. What do these concepts imply and how are their mutual relationships, as well as their relationship with the cliché?

Living=Building=Being Dieses Denken über das Bauen maßt sich nicht an, Baugedanken zu finden oder gar dem Bauen Regeln zu geben. [This thinking about building, shouldn’t have the intention to find building-ideas or even supply building with rules.] (Heidegger 1954, 145)

Heidegger immediately makes clear what the problems with building and living are. According to him, it is not possible to limit building to just rules. We cannot turn it into a mould. Making a copy is not possible. In other words, the cliché is unusable. Still the cliché is used. What could he mean when arguing this? It suggests that building entered into a relationship with cliché. This relationship is grounded in clichés like mouldability, transparency, and teleology. This might be comforting, but

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the problem is that building with clichés, and thus without thinking, makes living impossible. This is what will be further investigated. Is it possible to live in organizations? This question is important in our investigation of cliché. Clichés are predictable and comforting, but they exclude thinking. If Heidegger is correct with his assumption that building without thinking makes living impossible, this would imply that it is the cliché that obstructs feeling at home in organizations. Living is feeling-athome, as argued earlier. We feel at ease in a place that has meaning for us. It feels like home. It is the any-space-whatever to which we have attributed meaning. We have been able to shape it and make it our own. It is a place that has gained relevance for us. It is filled with memories and there is a desire for this place. As we desire it, it becomes a place where we can feel comfortable. This doesn’t mean that this desire is based on happy memories. So, according to Heidegger there is a relationship between living and thinking. Thinking makes living possible and sees to it that it remains a continuous and unique process. This also means that thinking should make building possible. This is needed, because building with clichés, i.e. without thinking, has created homelessness and alienation. It has estranged us from our world. Film can make us aware of the importance of living. To put it differently, if we start thinking about clichés, living becomes a possibility. What does that mean? To be human means: to be on earth as mortals, means: living. (Heidegger 1954, 147)

The above citation comes from Martin Heidegger’s crucial essay on living called Bauen, Wohnen, Denken [Building, Living, Thinking] (Heynen 2001a; 2001b). In this essay he connects building and living and considers them identical. He claims: “Bauen nämlich ist nicht nur Mittel und Weg zum Wohnen, das Bauen ist in sich selber bereits Wohnen” [“Building is not only the means and way for living, building in itself already implies living”] (1954, 146). Building is living, and in order to live we have to know how to build. For this building, there are no clear-cut rules. It doesn’t work through “analytisch-algebraische Relationen” (analytical, algebraic relations) (1954, 156). Should we nevertheless try this, then we are building structures in which living is impossible. This building with clichés causes us to live homelessly. This means that we are not able to attribute any meaning to a place, or we haven’t been able to shape the space ourselves. Feeling at home isn’t possible. We feel continuously alienated.

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In order to build, we have to learn what living is. “Die eigentliche Not des Wohnens beruht darin, daß die Sterblichen das Wesen des Wohnens immer erst wieder suchen, daß sie das Wohnen erst lernen müssen” [“The true necessity of living consists in the fact that humans have to search for the essence of living over and over again, that they first have to learn what living is”] (1954, 162, italics in original). We are thus searching for living, but really do not know what this living is anymore. Thus, the cause of homelessness has its origin in the fact that we do not know what living is anymore. This brings us to a more fundamental problem, and that is that we have forgotten the relevance of living. We only believe in clichés that designate building. Breaking through these clichés is important to become aware of the relevance of living and make this possible again. Heidegger claims that living is the basic condition of man. He describes it as follows: “das Wohnen wird nicht als das Sein des Menschen erfahren; das Wohnen wird vollends nie als der Grundzug des Menschseins gedacht” [“living isn’t considered as the being of man; living is never considered as the basic condition of man”] (1954, 148). It is thus not only about living, but also about being in general. Living is being, and being is living. Claiming that being is what it is all about also implies that living is the main thing. According to Heidegger, it is not only that we have forgotten to live, but also that we do not use our potency for thinking. There should be space for thinking about being and thus about living. This should enable us to live and thus to decide how we should build. In this way our trust in this world can be regained. Let us return to the Heideggerian way of building. According to him, building is “cultivating” in the sense of growing and looking after, and the erection of buildings. We could say that it is an organic or a living way of building. The building itself can be regarded as an exterior, an interior, and the specific parts in which we can live. He claims that living is connected to the maintenance of the so-called “Geviert,” which can be translated as “fourfold,” and which refers to the earth, heaven, the gods, and the mortal ones. As an example of maintenance, Heidegger claims that: “Die Sterblichen … machen die Nacht nicht zum Tag und den Tag nicht zur gehetzten Unrast” [“The mortal ones … shouldn’t turn the night into day and the day into a haunting unrest”] (1954, 150–1). Daytime is daytime, the night is the night, and living implicates rest. In other words, it is about the poetic maintenance or creation of harmony between the elements of the fourfold. This should eliminate alienation and dispossession. On the one hand, it is a matter of awareness of the concept of living, while on the

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other lies the question how this awareness can help to break through the cliché. Heidegger wrote this essay in the years of rebuilding after the Second World War. His criticism was aimed at the rational approach to building based on efficiency and speed. Dominant were clichés like teleology, efficiency, and mouldability. These replaced the quality of the housing, and whether or not this could comprise enjoyable places to live. Ratio became the main drive, which according to Heidegger should have been a poetic approach instead (Berghs 1991). This poetic approach should create the space to live. This is a space that fits in its environment and enables the inhabitant to live. It is in harmony with its surroundings. Aesthetic experience is considered to be more important than teleological ratio. According to Heidegger, living is poetic and his biggest criticism is that we are not aware of this anymore. As already mentioned, this poetic space can be compared to the Deleuzian “any-space-whatever.” This is not a hodological space, which is knowable, predictable, and mouldable. Does Heidegger’s reflection offer an agenda that informs us how we can stop this alienation? In other words, how can we build without ending up with homelessness? According to him, the relation between human and space is of importance. With relation, he doesn’t mean just the mathematical relation, but especially how man and space relate to each other. It is about opening up and arranging. It is literally about giving space in order for this place to gain a relevance for living. “Das Wesen des Bauens ist das Wohnenlassen” [“The essence of building is the let-live”] (1954, 160). It should enable living. The important thing is that we gain awareness of the fact that it is possible to think in terms of living. A place is not just a place, but a place that should be considered with caution in order to make it suitable for living. Heidegger even claims that a place only steps into existence at the moment of building. What does this mean? It mainly argues that it is not about choosing the right place, but that this place steps into existence by choosing it, and making it fit for living. To illustrate this, he chooses the example of the bridge. We could assume that a bridge connects two places. This isn’t the case, according to Heidegger. The bridge doesn’t connect two places, but creates them. This doesn’t mean that there weren’t any places before the bridge was built. It means that these places, whether or not they were present, aren’t the same places anymore. They have become new places. Through the building of the bridge new places arise, and not just places, but unique places. The creation of these new places is a process, and we don’t know how it will develop beforehand. We cannot exactly predict the effects in the built context. It can be regarded as a

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continuous process instead of a solid state that is predictable and that can be reached eventually. The concept of living as described by Heidegger has led to a lot of additional essays by various thinkers. Norberg-Schulz (1991) emphasizes the influence of Heidegger on the language of architecture. After Heidegger, topology, morphology, and typology are the same as where, how, and what (1991, 24). This apparently simple language should help us leave the already known and prepare us for, “a daring trip off the beaten path and outside the borders of the comforting around us” (Berghs 1991, 46). Berghs concludes that man is not living at this moment. He is alienated and dispossessed, he has stepped off the earth, he has become out of this earth. The outer earth man is confronted with the interiors and exteriors of buildings, which are both important for people to live (De Saeger 1991). The buildings and houses supply a roof for man, his tools and supplies (Boehm 1991). In that building or house, a new world steps into existence. The inhabitant constructs it, and this should add to the feeling of being at home. If the inhabitant does not feel at home, they live homelessly (Verhoeven 1991). What does this living imply for our thinking about organization? One of the questions is whether living in an office is possible. Is it possible to feel at home in an office, or to feel at ease, so that it becomes a place of relevance? Do the office and the activities performed there leave any space for this? If we follow Heidegger’s thoughts, we can claim that a place of work steps into existence when we start working there. This implicates that this place was absent before that. It arises when we start living there. But to what extent do we get this space for living? This question is a one I haven’t come across in the literature on organization. Even in annual reports there is no notion of the concept of “living.” There is the claim that staff should be motivated and dedicated. How this can be translated to a physical place remains unmentioned. As stated, this starts with the becoming aware of the relevance of living. Furthermore, we should realize that this cannot be limited to mathematical rules. There is no formula for the enjoyment of living in an office, insofar as any relevance is given to it. I will elaborate further on this in the part on the office. Another question that is important in our thinking about organization and cliché is—can we live in movement? Heidegger is very clear about this—we cannot. Just passing through or a temporary stay makes living impossible. According to him, living is only possible in a fixed and arranged place. This would implicate that we are constantly homeless while we’re moving. Here, Heidegger’s thoughts fall short because this is

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not the case for the nomad. He lives in movement. He knows how to give relevance and meaning to the places he stays in. We see this clearly in the case of the Dude. The temporality of his rented place is decorated with paraphernalia of a personal nature and cherished possessions. As a temporary inhabitant, the Dude creates his own space with easily movable things. This also goes for his other temporary home—his car. He feels at home in the places where he is. However, it should be noticed that it is not possible to specifically and rationally design these places for living. The place where we live is, “the place where human existence finds its roots and is cultivated with an unavoidable circumstantiality” (Verhoeven 1991, 112). It is not about a well-designed and prepared planning, but about the unavoidable. As mentioned before, living cannot be exactly determined beforehand, but is more or less dependent on unavoidable coincidences. It is subject to serendipity. When we discuss the concept of living, it is important to distinguish between individual houses and houses meant for mutual activities. Communal housing consists of individual worlds. In both cases, it can be claimed that inhabitants should be able to feel at home. Depending on the function of the communal housing, there can be a society (Boehm 1991). This society can be one of the underlying principles when constructing a building, but this doesn’t mean that it will be experienced that way by the inhabitants. I have argued that this cannot be designed specifically and rationally, but that it is a matter of serendipity. You never know what comes out, in other words. From our thoughts on clichés, it can be argued that the creation of a mould for society is impossible. Chance decides otherwise. This unavoidable coincidence designates to what extent the human is able to construct their own world in communal housing. This designates in what way they are able to feel at home, or whether they are put in a position to live. It is not possible to make a clear distinction between the own world in the own house, and the own world in the communal house. This implies that there are links and connections. There are connecting lines between the two worlds. Basically, these connections are unlimited. “The houses have their extension, their enlargement in all different buildings, which have more or less distanced themselves, but which would be unthinkable if living was not the case, because they have an original relationship with living, which they maintain” (De Visscher 1991, 126). In other words, there is a sort of virtual network of connections between the various houses. Through these lines of flight, the inhabitant is able to move virtually and in this way can also transport a part of the experience of living. Then, living is not only

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dependent on the specific place, but can also be shaped by the virtual experience of living. Living together is thus a melting of the own worlds that maintain lines of flight with the world in the own house. From the own worlds there arises a communal world that is a fusion of the own worlds, and in this way designates the largest common denominator. It is a hollowed-out surrogate of individuality, in which peculiarities are in trouble. Together is not the same as alone, eventually. The person that lives doesn’t live by themselves, but as, “someone that lives off others” (De Visscher 1991, 129). Living can then be described as the interplay of experiences of the own world that melt into each other. Let us have a further look into the individual and communal houses.

Martin House As an example of the individual house, I will discuss the Martin House of Frank Lloyd Wright (1867–1959). The rudimental thought was that the building should reflect the face of the owner. This face should, in a figurative sense, be a reflection of the character of the owner (Quinan 2004). The Martin House from 1905 in Buffalo, New York can be seen as one of the prairie houses (Pfeiffer 2005, 2002). Wright developed this style, which cannot really be called a style, primarily to create an original American way of building. He was opposed to the copying of European styles of building, which were very common back then. His idea was to break through this cliché. According to Wright, the prairie houses should be a natural addition to the American landscape. They contribute to more harmony in the Heideggerian “fourfold.” The idea of the house as portrait was put into words by Wright in his lecture “The Architect and the Machine” from 1901: There should be as many types of house as there are Different types of people, because it is The individuality of the inhabitant that should give character and Color to the house and furniture. (Quinan 2004, 17)

What is supposedly important is that the experience of living is a personal experience, which should be drawn into a portrait, and which then should be translated into the building of the house. Building and living then become individual affairs. We can obviously wonder if this drawing of a portrait is even a possibility. It suggests the creation of a mould that can be used for building. At the same time, we can ask what this means for the other inhabitants of the same house. Does this implicate that living together is limited to living alone? Does this implicate that living together

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is based on an all-absorbing hierarchy? What are the effects of the various portraits on the face of the city? Does this require consistency or diversity? Is the architect autonomous or should they take the styles and buildings from the other surrounding architects into consideration? What did this mean exactly for the Martin House? The cooperation between Wright and Darwin Martin wasn’t all a coincidence. Martin was the director of the Larkin Company, for which Wright also designed the famous Larkin Building. The cooperation between Wright and Martin established a special bond, which contributed to the former being able to gain a complete image of the character of the latter. In the house, he mirrored Martin’s rather nervous character, his passion for details, and his love for numbers (Quinan 2004). This mirroring resulted in the almost confusing details of the building. He also built an office in the house, which disturbed the boundary between work and leisure. Martin’s job obviously demanded a continuous participation which was visualized by the office in the house. In order to create some sort of separation he disconnected the office from the private rooms. Furthermore, he positioned the windows in such a way that the light was appropriate, but in a way that Martin wasn’t able to look out of the window during work. Distraction was excluded. Transparency implied that there was no looking outside. In this way, the character of Martin, together with his daily routine, were drawn into a portrait and built into a house. Whereas the owner recognized himself in the house, this was altogether different for his wife. This created a discrepancy in the attempt to let the house resemble a portrait. If this had been a mirroring of the hierarchical relations this would have probably gone unnoticed, but as it became apparent it can be regarded as a striving for a balanced living environment. The idea of the house as portrait can therefore best be interpreted as, “the deeper aesthetic intentions of the architect” (Quinan 2004, 17). The actual effects of these intentions are unpredictable. On the one hand, this is caused by the fact that the owner doesn’t have to be the sole inhabitant, and on the other the composition and living behaviors of the inhabitants are subject to change as time goes by. The house as portrait is probably more of an attempt to balance the relations between customer, house, and nature. Although these thoughts from Wright arose some time before those of Heidegger, we see a mutual striving to let humans live in a unique, natural, and dynamic environment. Both consider the concept of living, and thus being, to be the main issue. What can we conclude from this attempt of Frank Lloyd Wright to let the house be a portrait of the owner? The space doesn’t receive a strange identity, but that of the owner, the inhabitant. The latter is put in a position

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to enter into a meaningful relationship. It becomes his or her space and this suggests that it receives a special meaning. It is offered the possibility to become relevant. The space remains a “whatever” space. This makes living possible.

Villa VPRO From the house as a portrait, we can start looking at the communal house, or to put it differently at living together. How can a communal house be created, and in what way can an identity be attributed to it? In order to investigate this, I will discuss Villa VPRO, from architects MVRDV. The reason is that this, just like the Martin House, has been documented extensively (Paans 2000; Wennekes 1997). The VPRO, a Dutch national broadcast organization, had housing in various villas in the centre of Hilversum. These villas all had their own identity and character, more or less shaped by their various inhabitants. However, at a certain point these villas weren’t sufficient anymore, and the urge for new housing arose. The idea was to assemble the villas into one big communal home. This was supposed to combine and also keep the identities of the separate villas. To achieve this, the various employees were involved in the design and building process. With the help of a committee they started looking for a suitable architectural firm. Eventually, the Dutch architects MVRDV were chosen. MVRDV was an unknown firm at the time. In order to procure the commission, they staged a thoroughly planned act when the VPRO committee visited them. At the time, MVRDV had one office, in which not too much was going on. To give the impression of success, they rented the entire floor of the office building and used extras to create a busy atmosphere. This atmosphere consisted of people walking around, being busy, constantly ringing telephones, etc. Furthermore, they hired professionals to assist them during their presentation. This had the desired effect on the VPRO committee, who witnessed a young and dynamic architectural firm, where the lines were constantly busy and the activity gave the impression of potential for growth. VPRO granted the commission to MVRDV more or less on the basis of this visit. Their act turned out to be successful. But obviously, the question was whether they could create some form of living together. A thought was that the new villa should breathe the atmosphere of a house. Living should be made possible and this shouldn’t have a negative effect on the identity of the inhabitants. To generate this living, they used the concept of the “Typical Plan” as described by Rem

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Koolhaas (Koolhaas and Mau 1995). This can be seen as an architecture that is stripped of all peculiarities, identity, and character. Details are superfluous or even unwanted. It is the indeterminate space that Koolhaas, inspired by Deleuze and Guattari, describes as a “smooth space.” In our thinking about clichés, we can describe it as an “any-space-whatever.” The Typical Plan should invite initiatives through its indeterminability. It should supply space for entrepreneurship. It is more or less exemplified by its being absent. This absence secures space for actors in the organization, or, in other words, gives them the opportunity to become visible. They appear in the organization. According to Koolhaas, there is also a dark side. He argues that the Typical Plan will create its own downfall, because the inhabitants want to display their own identities. They want to define the space, because of which the indeterminacy for the others disappears. This makes the possibility for living vanish. The space then causes homelessness. Apparently, the representation of the individual ego of the actor in the organization has to have its space. The Typical Plan has never been popular in Europe, because cellular offices were preferred. There is a preference for an own space, detached from the rest, instead of living together in one large space. In other words, everyone wants to have their own characteristic domain instead of the smooth space without identity. This is one of the reasons why, in Western European offices, people are notoriously absent. Another reason for using the Typical Plan is that it can be used by anyone. When a certain firm leaves the building, another one can inhabit it without too much trouble. The offices can behave according to the fluctuations of the market. This was one of the initial ideas when building Villa VPRO. The unique and ostentatious building that Villa VPRO turned out to be was contrary to these initial thoughts. Through its peculiar appearance the building gained an identity, which was determining, independent of whatever firm was living in it. The shape of the building became more impressive than the organization living in the building. Despite a preference for the Typical Plan, we see in the end a building with a strong identity. What turned out to be a further problem was the intention of having employees attribute an identity to the building, in other words, to let them live. This turned out to be difficult. Not everyone felt at home in the new building. As an example, there was a dispute between the old villa dwellers and the new employees who only knew the new villa. As the latter couldn’t make a comparison, they lacked the feelings of nostalgia. Some had nostalgic feelings for the old villas, while the new employees, especially the ones who hadn’t

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experienced the old situation, felt at home. What also played a part was the feeling of being or not-being involved in the process of the building of the new villa. This emphasizes the strong relationship between living and building. Attributing an identity or relevance can be rooted in being involved in the thinking about the space to be built. This also means that it is not possible to create a space where everyone can feel at home. This striving for mouldability turned out to be an illusion. This was probably the reason the building would never be fully satisfactory for its inhabitants (Paans 2000). Through building, a new space was created and, despite the fact that during the process a lot of attention was given to the concept of living, this turned out to be no guarantee for pleasurable living or feeling at home.

Hygiene and the Housewife When thinking about the concept of living it is important to consider the twentieth century ideas that we can describe as modernism. The modern human was supposed to live and behave in a modern way. Accordingly, architecture was seeking new ways of building and living. These were based on a desire for hygiene. The house should be a clean and safe place, which offered protection from outside infection. Therefore, one of the taboos was the cellar. A perfect example of this idea is the Farnsworth House (1951) by Mies van der Rohe, a house that is literary lifted off the ground and stands on its legs. In this way, it is detached from the unreliable soil it is built upon. We indeed do not know what is going on below the surface. The hygiene should guarantee a clear order. We can regard this order as a desire for clarity, for transparency. This should contribute to a clearer image of the world. It should enable us to have a clearer vision. This should increase our faith in the world. This resulted in new buildings that were cleansed of all kinds of paraphernalia. They should be designed in such a way that it would be easy to keep them clean. The German architect Bruno Taut saw in the housewife and her activities the starting point for building. In other words, the house should be designed according to all the wishes and needs of the housewife. He tried to convince the housewife to: “dispose of all the heavy ornamented furniture with all its ledges and edges, its little statures, little rugs, antimacassars and trade them in for a simple and practical interior which could be cleaned in an instant” (1924, 871). Taut pleaded for the replacement of the old and traditional with the modern. To get rid of, “the dust-traps of tradition” (1924, 871). This also implies that all the relevance can be removed by polishing. Wherever we want to create a place of

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relevance, we run the risk of removing this relevance under the influence of the fear of contagion or infection, through which it becomes meaningless again. Renewal was considered a radical rejection of the existing. Taut even goes a step further and pleads for, “the adaptation to the household of the principles of Scientific Management as developed by Frederick W. Taylor in 1911” (1924, 871). Where organizations often try hard to exclude the private life of the employees we see a contrary movement and notice that the working environment of the employee is created at their home. This is a double negation of poetic living. At work and at home, the employee is confronted with the dominance of the rational. This means that the rational directs living. Living becomes rational. Heidegger has informed us that this means we aren’t living anymore, but that we are homeless. According to him, building and thus living cannot be stripped down to rules or formulas. These can support, but never determine. The building of a new world implied a rational and structured process. There was no room for exceptions or fringes. It was a quest for a mould that could guarantee standardization. It was a desire for the copy. The idea was that if everything is the same and everyone behaves that way, a visual composure occurs. This composure should enable a stronger focus on work and thus result in a higher productivity. Mouldability and transparency were the focus of attention. Distraction through ornamentation should be abolished. Against this dominance of the rational, a resistance arose. This was a counter movement that pleaded for a difference between the public and private spheres. The private sphere should be characterized by cosiness, feeling at ease, and stability (Heynen 2001a). The rational ideas of standardization focused on the community, while the counter-reaction put the individual back in the centre of attention. There was resistance against the idea that life should be all about the community and its uniformity. The difference, the other, the singular, should be allowed again. The serial production shouldn’t be decisive in the houses of people, because this made these houses inhumane. An example of such an opponent is the French writer and art-historian Camille Mauclair, who disposes of this rationality, “this mania of light and clearness tries to dispose of the mystical beauty of the shadow, this element that even more than light, distorts objects and fills them up with magic” (1933, 234–5). In other words, he pleads for the acceptance of mystery. In the moment the mystery is unravelled it loses its shine and its attraction. The dark places should remain dark and not be cleansed by light, just like the houses shouldn’t be robbed of their memories. He pleads

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for a revaluation and maintenance of dirt. This dirt can take various shapes, like darkness, ornamentation, deviation, or memories. He opposes the anonymous and cheaply made shacks, but especially, “the idea that man is a machine housed in a machine …” (1933, 235, italics in original). Another opponent to rationalization is the French philosopher Gaston Bachelard, who pleads for a poetic approach to living. He doesn’t regard the house as an, “univocal object, but regards it as a crossroad of dreams, memories and imagination” (1957, 875). He prefers pollution through magic, darkness, dreams and memories instead of the rational hygienic. Bachelard (1964) argues that we are driven by daydreams. While daydreaming, we dwell through this world. In order to realize these daydreams and to act according to them, we rationalize them. The drive, however, remains the daydream. This daydream gets shaped on the one hand through the spaces in which we live, and on the other influences the way in which we want to live and shape our living environment. This means that while living was approached in a rational, Tayloristic way, there also arose a counter movement that pleaded for a veiled mystery. This was further complicated by the fact that the rational unveiling created an architecture in which the inhabitants couldn’t feel at home yet. The ideas of the modern architects weren’t adopted immediately by the inhabitants. I will go further into this with my description of the work of Antonioni. Whether the created mysterious and fairy-tale-like dwellings from architects like Antonio Gaudi (Zerbst 2005) would be the alternative for modern architecture is a good question. This question, however, contains the danger of the cliché. Probably, it is a question that shouldn’t be answered.

Venustas, Firmitas, Utilitas Another approach of architecture, instead of the rational hygienic or the fairy-tale-like mysterious way, is the one of the Vitruvian trinity (2009). The classic architect, engineer, and theorist Vitruvius (± 85–20 b. Chr.), divided architecture into three components (van den Bergh 2004): utilitas (the function), firmitas (the materialization), and venustas (the shape). Ideally, these three elements should be in balance when building a structure. In order to clarify these different elements, Van den Bergh (2004) points at the Barcelona pavilion by Mies von der Rohe, the igloo of the Eskimo, and the Thermalbad in Vals by architect Peter Zumthor. He claims that the specific situation decides in what way a space is created for building, and thus for living. The venustas, the shape, decides if we consider something beautiful or not. This is related to perception and

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interpretation. The subjective judgement of taste seduces many critics to question much of the contemporary architecture (Van den Bergh 2004, De Visscher 2002). However, considering something beautiful or ugly goes further than just taste. The possibility of use and solidity also plays a part. The solidity and the use are probably more susceptible to ratio than the beautiful or ugly. These changes in the thinking about building and living have created a situation where there is the old familiar world and a new one, which we have to get used to. These worlds are fused in an indistinguishable way. Inconvenience has been created. This is further fed by the fact that traditional architecture is still being built. There are various movements moving through each other in which tradition is maintained next to the new and the modern. This has caused a rupture between building and living. The traditional life hasn’t completely changed into the modern way of living. This has resulted in an opposition as a result of which we are not able to live anymore. Modernity has alienated us (Bauman 2005; 2003; 2000; Heynen 2001a; Boomkens 1998; Berman 1983). We are not yet in a position to experience its meaning. We do not yet feel at home in the new and modern world. Apparently, architecture has another path of development than humans who want to live. Living is caught in a field of tension between emancipation and melancholy. This causes an experience of homelessness (Heynen 2001a). This is not limited to the private situation, but extends to spaces of work or communal leisure. These spaces are described as communal houses. People feel estranged from their homes, their places of work, their cities and places of leisure. Considering this, Heynen (2001a) refers to Heidegger and his notion of “seinsvergessenheit,” stating that we have forgotten what being is: “People do not understand (anymore) what being is, they do not open up to the fourfold. What is dominant is an instrumental attitude towards the world, based on considerations of usefulness and efficiency” (2001a, 27). Therefore, they are not able to attribute relevance to a place. This is, by the way, not about a condition, but an event that is comparable to unveiling. This unveiling is a continuous play between the hidden and the revealed (Heynen 2001a). The attempts to create a condition that leaves nothing veiled while building is contrary to our ideas of living, which are based on a magical happening. Thus, living cannot be approached in a completely rational and hygienic way, without the magical or the mentioned fairy-tale-like and mysterious. It becomes complex when we try to construct a communal building that is an interaction of various personal worlds. We have seen this as an example with Villa VPRO. It causes a field of tension to arise from the

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rational and the fairy-tale-like or mysterious. Regarded from a cliché-like perspective, or in other words the creation of a mould, the fairy-tale-like is distrusted and quickly excluded. Whereas in the own house the fairy-talelike or mysterious is an appealing option, in the case of the communal house the choice will be rather for the rational hygienic. The own house can be dark, while the communal place should be transparent and clear. It is inexcusable to have secrets from each other. The communal house should portray the thoughts as mentioned in the annual reports, especially those on transparency and efficiency. This means that the space is fixed and the “any-space-whatever” is excluded. This also implicates that thinking is abolished and can have no place in the transparent rational and hygienic communal houses.

3.4 Antonioni’s Trilogy As an example of alienation related to modernity and specifically its architecture, I will discuss the work of the Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni. In the first chapter, I discussed his film Blow-Up. That film is as much about architecture as it is about its absence. The films I want to discuss here are: L’Avventura (1960), La Notte (1961) and L’Eclisse (1962)—his famous trilogy, in other words. These black-and-white movies investigate the transition from a traditional way of living to a modern way. The relation between modern man and the modern built environment is the focal point of attention. It is about the concept of alienation. Man is alienated from his environment, but especially from himself. It can be argued that this alienation is connected to the inability to live. Man doesn’t live anymore, and therefore he isn’t anymore. He is no longer human and it is for that reason that he doesn’t know and recognize others and himself. Antonioni was originally an architect. This is probably why he recognized the relevance of architecture and why he was able to visualize this in an urgent way. In his films, architecture is not only a set piece, it also plays an important part. Architecture is one of the actors (Heathcode 2000), or it can even be argued that architecture designates in what way people act. Antonioni offers space for the architecture, which enables it to show its directing qualities. In L’Eclisse, we see moments in which the protagonists disappear from the frame, which leaves us with the architecture only. The architecture has always been present and will always remain. People are mere decorations. They are set pieces. Antonioni shows the viewer the surroundings in order to make them think. This is not meant to impose an opinion, but to help shape an image of the things that happen and those that do not. In the latter lies the power

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of his films. Plot lines are discontinued, silences endure, and there is an absence of sound or lack of actors in the landscape. In this way, Antonioni creates some sort of mood (Chatman and Duncan 2004), which makes the viewer search for the hidden meaning in what is and isn’t shown or said. The most important element in this is the abolition of the end, or the creation of an open ending. He uses the potency of film by breaking through the cliché of the happy end. Other elements that draw attention are the slowness, the boredom, and the mental prison or silo in which people are apparently caught (Diamond, Allcorn and Stein 2004). Contrary to ideologists, he sticks to the principle that truth in itself doesn’t exist, but that it “transforms” through attributing meaning to the human experience and through the evolving of time. Because Antonioni “doesn’t impose meaning, but also doesn’t reject it, he leaves room for meanings without defining them.” (Chatman and Duncan 2004, 15)

In the opening scene of L’Avventura we see protagonist Anna and her father, while the camera moves from images of traditional architecture to images of modern architecture. The images suggests that Anna is leaving the traditional rest for the modern hectic life. Her father is complaining that his quiet villa has to make room for the modern new buildings. Standing with his back to Anna, he talks about the abolition of traditional family values. According to him, the traditional familiar rest is being disrupted. This is visualized by the modern architecture that surrounds his house and is apparently locking him up more and more. Because of all this, they are no longer capable of looking each other in the eye while talking to each other. They turn their backs as if they are estranged from the world and from each other. They are talking to one another, but actually they are talking to themselves. There is a new unease that makes man enter into a relationship with themselves. When we see images of traditional architecture we notice liveliness, people feeling at ease, projecting happiness and looking each other in the eye. The contrary happens with modern architecture. Communication happens without looking at one another and consists of silences and staring. Antonioni shows unexplainable mood swings, indecisiveness, and dissatisfaction. Warmth turns to coldness. The actors feel alienated from their world. They are losing the connection to their traditional environment, while at the same time they are not capable of creating a modern environment. It is because of modern architecture that the connection between the actors is dissolving, just like with the past or tradition. The modern looks bleak, superficial, empty, and unsatisfying. Unrest substitutes rest.

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What does it mean when the actors not only feel estranged from each other but also from themselves? Their only option appears to be escaping into an inner monologue. Now and then, fragments burst out into the open. The inner monologue slowly chews them up, and makes them incapable of externalizing it. This externalization is always strained, and because of this the other doesn’t understand the intentions or meanings, or is disinterested, or is being chewed up by their own inner monologue. We see characters trying to connect through sexual escapism. Without any real lust, they jump each other. Sex tries to substitute passion. Antonioni shows that man has a poisoned relationship with his sexuality. Eros is sick (Brunette 1998; Nowell-Smith 1997; Cottino-Jones 1996; Chatman 1985). This results in a diseased mating ritual. Antonioni shows that there is a connection between the mating ritual and our living in buildings. We feel homeless and therefore have a need for the alternative fulfillment of our desires. From an aesthetic point of view, it can be argued that the city and its buildings are beautiful. The point Antonioni wants to make is not that he rejects the buildings from a design point of view. He reflects critically on the incapability of these buildings to create the right attunement for people. People cannot yet relate to these buildings. This also implies that we are apparently incapable of seeing what we see, or to put it in a Deleuzian sense, that we are not capable of perceiving new things. We keep hanging on in a cliché-like tradition. Whatever deviates from this creates a feeling of alienation. It results in not being able to communicate anymore, the need to move continuously, a distorted mating ritual, and starting to doubt one’s own identity or drives. The fact that we are repulsed by the modern surroundings is apparently related to our opening up to the new world. It is almost as if Antonioni shows us images in order to make us aware of things. The world speaks to us, but we are incapable of experiencing or understanding this. It is, like Lemaire (2002) informed us, that we have to relearn how to use our senses in order to raise our awareness of the world around us. This is what Antonioni shows us. The world is becoming a strange place, or is maybe already a strange place. But is it a strange place, or is it that our capacity for adaptation cannot keep up with the tempo of change? Is this really a comprehensible evolution? It is almost as if we are caught in a situation we have to get used to, without our being aware of this. The complicating factor is that this getting used to is hampered by the fact that the old world and its traditions still have a firm grip on us. In L’Eclisse (1962) we also see how the protagonists seldom look each other in the eye. Their facial expressions and the shown moods remain hidden. This suggests that communication doesn’t require eye contact, but

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that it is necessary to look away and stare into nothingness now and then. It seems as if they need to organize their thoughts in an unbiased way. It is an ode to silence. The musing exploration of the space proves helpful. Roaming around in unknown and strange spaces allows an organizing of thoughts and feelings that should enhance the social interaction. Apparently, this is easier in buildings that harbor a certain tradition or a comprehensible history. New and unknown buildings should be explored by oneself in order to feel at ease in them, or, in other words, to feel at home. The spaces in which the characters are present or by which they are surrounded are therefore as important as the characters themselves. The moment the characters leave, the space remains, waiting for its next visitors. The desolateness of the modern city as it is displayed emphasizes the loneliness in which the characters are caught. Everyone is searching, everyone tries to adapt, but nobody knows how. This informs us how architecture influences our most basic and intimate relationships. At the moment, we dilapidate architecture, and the construction of our relations. In the film we see this because the actors are not the focus of attention, whereas architecture is. Just like in Do the Right Thing, we can wonder if there are protagonists, or whether we only see accidental passers-by who can be substituted for any other accidental passer-by. This means that persons aren’t really individuals, but objects present by accident. These objects move through the architecture, which designates their moods and conditions and the way in which they enter into relationships or maintain them. In L’Avventura (1960) we see the perfect example of this through the visualization of a ghost-town. The people, if they were ever relevant, have left. Only the city remains. Either they haven’t found each other or their relationship is over. During the last scene of L’Eclisse (1962), we see a similar image. We see the city, the streets, the new buildings and some anonymous passersby. We see nature combined with architecture. We see, for instance, nicely ordered trees standing in front of a new building. Nature is at ease, as if it is under the regime of the nicely ordered environment. When we see pristine nature, we see that it is in movement, almost as if there is a certain unease, awaiting some kind of evil. The natural and intuitive seems to be worried about a supremacy of the rational. We see a strong wind blowing through the trees. We see an anthill in movement and we see water flowing as if it is looking for a safe haven in a natural environment. This is all shown with shots and close-ups of the new buildings, until the movie suddenly ends with a close-up of a streetlamp. It is an intense light that blinds all the rest. Nature is conquered by technology, and feeling by cold

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ratio. We have turned the night into day, just like Heidegger predicted (1954). Antonioni’s films remain a mystery. They can be analyzed and described endlessly. We see things and happenings, without ever receiving an answer. The viewer has to make up their own opinion (Nowell-Smith 1997). The ending remains open. Antonioni is regarded as an exceptional observer, who doesn’t show things in a cliché-like manner, and who doesn’t impose an opinion as some sort of truth (Barthes 1964). The main point here is that Antonioni allows modern architecture and the accompanying experience of this to play a prominent part. He is not opposed to modern architecture (Schwarzer 2000), but emphasizes that we should break through the clichés that chain us to tradition in order to be open to the new world. Through this, we can become aware of our being, and this puts us in a position to live and to build.

3.5 Office Much of what happens in L’Eclisse takes place in and around a building of the stock exchange. In a long and protracted scene, we see the hustle and bustle and panic in this stock exchange. The building has a traditional character. The fact that it houses a stock exchange strengthens the idea that tradition has become unreliable. It introduces the necessity of the poker face. Furthermore, we have entered the built environment of organization. In the previous part I discussed the relevance of architecture and more specifically the relation between living and building. I argued that architecture plays a decisive role in film, and it is therefore of significant importance in our thinking about clichés. The thoughts about living lead us to the question of the possibilities of living in the office. We might wonder if we are even aware of the idea of living in the office, and what this implies for a possible physical separation between work and leisure and whether or not this separation is preferable. To be able to say something about all this, I will first explore the history of the office. In addition, I will look at the rudiments of officeinterior design. If we investigate living, we should realize that there is a strong contemporary trend about the rationalization of offices. A concept like “churn,” or in other words the calculable vacancy, plays an important part in this. The history of offices is relevant because it informs us on the thoughts of the architect on organization and the way in which living in the office could be made possible. We shall see that the thinking about architecture and offices and the thinking about organization go through an alternative evolution. It can be concluded that when thinking about

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organization we can learn much from the thinking about architecture. But first, I will return to the impact of architecture on the behavior of people. The history of the office started at the end of the nineteenth century, initiated by the industrial revolution (Albrecht and Broikos 2001; Van Meel 2000) when a desire to gather administrative work in one space arose. A search for appropriate forms of working together started. In this, architecture would play a decisive role. The great pioneer was Frank Lloyd Wright. The Wainwright Building in St. Louis, which he built in 1891 with Louis Sullivan, can be regarded as the first big office building. His masterwork was built in 1904 with the Larkin Building in Buffalo, New York. These buildings were the first to treat the office in a serious way. There was a notion that the architecture of the office could have a decisive influence on the behavior of employees. An important question in this was how to deal with the new difference between work and leisure. This difference revealed itself because people did not work at home any longer, but, as a result of industrialization, started to work in communal places like factories and offices. This movement made the difference between work and leisure manifest. This also meant that the concept of living would gain new meanings, which led to the problems as described in the previous part. It can be argued that the difference between work and leisure is a positive thing for organizations. In other words, that organization is influenced in a positive way by this detachment. Should the conclusion be that this detachment has a positive impact, then there would apparently be no reason to abolish it. We should however realize that it is not about detachment, but that the functioning of organizations is the main issue when thinking about this question. Furthermore, I have argued that there is always some interplay between work and leisure that is much more complex than a simple detachment. I have also argued that boundary has become obsolete, and this is exactly what this question considering work and leisure is all about. Bringing your thoughts to work could be positive, even though they are permeated with private problems. This goes for the home situation as well. We have to connect these thoughts to the conclusion that we have become alienated from this world and it is therefore relevant to find out how offices play a part in this. That is the reason why we need to know in what way living can have a significant influence on work, just like it has on our private lives. In the next chapter, I will highlight this with the help of the film Office Space. The question remains whether we can live in the office and under what conditions this living should take place. In other words, what does living in the office mean?

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The question is even more relevant because offices and especially office skyscrapers are dominant in our built environment. If we look at American cities we see that office towers shape the skyline. Europe follows at a hesitant pace. The big difference is that North America chooses skyscrapers, while Europe still chooses so-called “groundscrapers” (Van Meel 2000). How and why did they arise? An explosive growth took place fed by further industrialization and the ever-dominant role of office work. This rapidly increased the demand for offices. At the same time, architecture itself was evolving. This was mainly fueled by the Vitruvian utilitas and firmitas. Relevant in this was the invention of the elevator (Koolhaas 1994). The elevator made it possible for buildings to be higher and higher and still be usable. In the 1950s, glass buildings, or “Glass Boxes” (Wolfe 1989), made their entrance. The glass facade, which represented a daring and successful image, is still dominant for office towers. This resulted in offices and their representations shaping the image of modern cities. This image used to be shaped by church towers, but now it is office towers. Offices are regarded as the most important buildings of the twentieth century (Van Meel 2000). This implies that the office plays a crucial role in our lives, and whether or not we live and work in offices is of secondary importance. Not only do they shape an important part of our lives through our working in an office, they also have a significant influence as a representation in itself. We are familiar with office images, even before we exactly know what they are and do. In this way, the office shapes our world. According to Johnson (2002), a sort of symbolic interaction arises. He considers buildings to be metaphors for man. Referring to offices, this would imply that the function of thinking would be housed at the top of the building, something which is indeed visualized in The Hudsucker Proxy. The importance of a building for the human, and especially the emotional impact, is stressed by Johnson (2002) with the example of the attack on the Twin Towers on 9/11, 2001. An image was destroyed brutally. He argues that the huge impact of the attacks was due to the destruction of a familiar image. The Twin Towers were part of people’s lives. They more or less created a bridge between past, present, and future—the past, from a nostalgic tradition, the present as what is there right now and which can be acted upon, and the future as some sort of safe haven in which building and constructing are possible. At the moment they literally collapsed, a big part of people’s lives disappeared. Their comfortable existence was brutally disrupted. The cliché that people could lean upon vanished. The matter of taste as discussed by Prins (2007), in

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other words if the Twin Towers were beautiful or ugly, is therefore irrelevant. People’s memories are not only restricted to beautiful things. It is not the beautiful per se with which we enter into a relationship and which creates memories. A place like Manhattan, with its skyscrapers, creates a “culture of congestion” according to Rem Koolhaas (1994). He refers to the Manhattan architecture as: “the paradigm of the exploitation of congestion” (1994, 10). Congestion can be described as going over the top in the moment of saturation. It is filled up to the maximum—it is too full, as a matter of fact. In this way, the architecture, the buildings, influence daily life and thus the behavior of people. But it is also the architecture that is influenced and shaped further under the influence of this congestion. It is a reciprocal influencing and shaping. This results in life being under the influence of a culture of congestion. This congestion initiates or catalyses the tempo and behavior of people. Order and disorder fuse. In this, the grid, the rational ordering of streets, plays an important part. The grid supplies order and structure in a continuous chaos. Chaos and order fuse. According to Koolhaas, the grid directs the behavior and through this an ordered chaos arises. Mark C. Taylor (2001) also sees the effects of the grid and considers it outdated for the contemporary complexity. He argues that the grid negates complexity. Its calculative character undermines living. He pleads for new forms, which should be better suited to the contemporary network-culture. According to him, we can no longer deny this complexity, because thinking in simple and cliché-like solutions turns out to be insufficient. Architecture has to adapt to this. This remark brings us back to the annual reports that can also be regarded as grids. The annual reports show that organization starts to behave like a grid as well. This leads to isomorphism and alienation. The grid is comforting and offers safety. Everyone who has ever been to Manhattan knows that getting lost is almost impossible. In other words, the grid shows us the way, but at the same time estranges us from the rhizomatic tendencies of our being. The grid also defines the exterior and interior of office architecture. Whenever we question the grid, this will have its impact on the architecture and layout of offices. The office tower may soon be as redundant as the steam-powered mill. (Duffy 1997, 96)

In the above citation, Francis Duffy tries to draw attention to the future of the office. In his idea, big office towers will slowly vanish as a result of the revaluation of working at home. This is more or less comparable to the situation before the industrial revolution. When trying to make progress,

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we are going slowly back in time. This can be referred to as a reverse evolution. It is also a movement from exterior to interior. Just like Duffy, a considerable amount of books try to create a future image of the office as a unique place in which design plays a major part (Schleiffer 2005; Myerson and Ross 2003; 1999; Fabbrizzi 2002; Zelinsky 2002; De Kelver 2001; Mays 2001; Duffy 1997). In these books, which are focused on interior, we see attempts to create a workspace of inspiration and creativity. A place that should make you feel jealous for not working there. It is the other place that makes your own look dreadful. It is easy for the imagination to go berserk. They also show the way in which living is becoming an important ingredient and even a critical factor in the functioning of organization. In other words, the employee who lives is more productive. In what way the images shown really contribute to living, but especially whether or not the employees really feel at home, remains a mystery. In Antonioni’s world we have witnessed that it is not just a matter of architecture, but that people also need time to adapt to the new offices as opposed to the traditional. Just like in Antonioni’s modern world, and just like Deleuze argued, the people are absent in these glossy books. These sketched ideal images confirm that it is not people who shape the basis, because they are absent. They are not even some sort of decoration. This puts more pressure on the possibilities of living. However, the image that is created is not merely worrisome, it is simultaneously intriguing in that it can make us aware of new possibilities which might lead to exciting developments in the future. Regardless of whether or not we are breaking through clichés, we can regard this as an exploration of new ways of organization. According to the well-known cliché: a standstill equals decline. What these books do, nevertheless, is emphasize the relevance of the workplace.

Churn When considering the design of the interior of offices, there are two things Francis Duffy specifically draws attention to. The first is that there should be a striving for the reduction of so-called “churn.” Churn can be described as vacancy, or in other words a workspace that isn’t used. This implies that the notion of churn can be used to determine the distribution of workplaces, and thus who is and who isn’t entitled to a workspace and when that space can or cannot be used. In other words, being entitled to one’s own place can only be secured if this place is physically occupied. In this way, living becomes something physical and space specific. The second thing that Duffy points out is the teleological tendency of the

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design of the workplace. In other words, for Duffy the workplace is no mystery, but a component that can be managed. According to Duffy, this also means that the manager should be actively involved in creating the design, instead of thoughtlessly leaving this to the architect. The manager creates the mouldability of the workplace in an efficient and effective way, while getting rid of churn. The mystery is untangled and the hygiene is complete. It is clichés like mouldability, efficiency, and teleology that Francis Duffy wants to bring back to life. He is searching for a new grid. It can be considered bizarre that these books on new concepts of office design, like the one from Duffy, show exuberant offices with luxurious and excessive interiors, but again from which the people are absent. The teleological urge for the elimination of churn results in images of maximum churn. This leads to an observation that there is a strong tension between poetic living (Heidegger 1954) and the concept of churn. At the moment we become aware of the idea of poetic living, churn closes it up again. This, however, does not mean that the concept of churn is condemnable or irrelevant. No, churn is definitely relevant as long as it improves the situation. It is about becoming aware of churn and its relations to poetic living. It is not only about the statistical optimization of spaces through churn, but also about the way organization can be shaped according to the possibilities of living in these spaces (Hofbauer 2000). This movement cannot be translated in churn only. One of the means to counteract churn are the so-called “flex-places.” These are intended to maximize the occupancy and thus a minimization of churn. According to the aforementioned books on office interiors, the best possible option for this is the office landscape. These big open spaces offer a quick overview of where places are available. This means that there are no more permanent private places, but only temporary places to live in. The private environment gains different characteristics to the communal house. This means a change in the possibilities for attributing relevance. The impact is the creation of an identity or a portrait, which leads to a new experience of living. The workplace is not a solid thing anymore, but one that is dynamic and fluid. These movements attempt to change the character of the workplace. This means that they influence the work as well as the private situation. Working in the workplace does not only mean working in a specific space in a building of the organization. An important part is also played by working at home. This last one contributes to the optimization of churn. Working at home takes us back to some sort of original work situation. Living and working become one and the same. Working becomes living. The boundary between work and leisure disappears. This is visualized

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impressively by the Dutch photographer Jaqueline Hassink in her book Mindscapes (2003). Mindscapes are forms of expression that represent ideas of organizational members of interior design or the way spaces are used for living. They show how people try to turn their workplaces into places of relevance. A complicating factor is that our “private life” is not in balance with our “work life” (Veldhoen 2005; 1998). These are signs of dispossession. Therefore, these mindscapes should offer an escape. Hassink’s work has a strong aesthetic component. She visualizes the attempts of transforming spaces in order to make living possible. This is the basic idea and can result in any-space-whatever. These are spaces that do not impose an identity, but offer room to live. The aforementioned books do not offer this room. They show attempts, but only from a perspective of mouldability, efficiency, and teleology. The only thing they really do search for is an optimization of efficiency and effectivity. It is an effort to create a new grid. This also goes for methods like SOFT (Horgen et al. 1999). The parts Space, Organization, Finance, and Technology each form a quadrant. This should result in a collective image that enables the most efficient and effective way of designing an organization. This designing and directing beforehand, in which the building and the interior play a part, ignores the rhizomatic tendencies of organization. It is strongly influenced by the cliché of mouldability. This makes living problematic or even impossible. Another example is the book Workplace by Design (Becker and Steele 1995). In this book, there is also a search for a mouldable situation, in which the design of the workplaces and organization, backed up by strong leadership, cultural change, and the removal of blockages from employees, should lead to goal-oriented action with the help of a clear roadmap. The same organizational clichés are at the core of these ideas and should result in a happy end. This also keeps the teleological illusion viable. This is the same long-term predictability and mouldability as questioned by Sundstrom (1986). According to him, people cannot be directed like slaves. They will attribute their own identity to their place and the rhizomatic network of which they are a part. The positive aspect of these examples is that they draw attention to the relevance of the workplace. The negative aspect is that this is done in a cliché-like way. The cliché is traded in for a new cliché.

3.6 Prairie style I’ve been accused of saying I’m the greatest architect in the world, and if I had said so I don’t think it would be arrogant.

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This citation is from Frank Lloyd Wright. As an architect, he was constantly searching for new ways of building. He was somebody who not only built many structures, but also many different structures. Doing this, he put the specific desires of customers and the specific landscape at the center of his attention. He didn’t accept copies or clichés, but wanted to break through them. He was continuously looking for new ideas in order to shape architecture further and further. The question of whether he was the greatest architect that has ever lived is something I will not answer here. What I will do, however, is discuss some of his ideas and buildings in order to investigate their relevance for living on the one hand, and for offices on the other. In the part on living, I have already discussed the Martin House. But in the field of offices, Frank Lloyd Wright also developed some revolutionary ideas and turned them into structures. Wright started his career in the office of the famous architect Louis Sullivan. Together, they designed and built the earlier-mentioned Wainwright Building in St. Louis in 1981. This can be considered the first big office building. In this building, light was the great desideratum (Hoffmann 1998). After his period with Sullivan, Wright was occupied with building houses and developing a signature style. This style would become known as “Prairie style” (Pfeiffer 2005; 2002; McCarter 2005; 1991; Frampton 1995; 1986; Levine 1996; Hoffman 1995; Wright 1982; Zevi, 1998; Scully 1960; Hitchcock 1942). This made him the first architect of so-called “organic architecture” (Van Ree 2000). This prairie style was supposed to be in harmony with its surroundings. It was supposed to fuse or be one with nature. Wright opposed the copying of known styles. Wright was searching for a style that fitted the desires of users and the surrounding landscape. He critiqued his colleagues and blamed them for not creating an original American style, only copying European examples. It was probably the most advanced office of its time with, perhaps, the most perfect relationship between architectural invention and organizational innovation that has ever been achieved. (Duffy 1997, 21)

One of Wright’s most famous buildings is the Larkin Building in Buffalo, New York. This office was built by Wright in 1904 and caused a revolution when it opened its doors. The groundbreaking ideas abolished clichés and created a blueprint for the way in which office buildings could take physical shape and function. It is problematic that whatever breaks through a cliché runs the risk of turning into a cliché itself. The building received a lot of attention from European architects like Berlage. One of the things he championed was the way in which the office was organized

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(Quinan 1987). However, this attention and appreciation resulted in only a very limited influence in architecture. Wright accepted this commission because he wanted to make his statement with the designing and building of office buildings. He didn’t have any examples he could copy because of the simple fact that the ideas about office architecture had yet to be developed. An exception was his own Wainwright Building in St. Louis. For the Larkin Building he was looking for something that allowed the organization to function like a machine, the separate parts forming a smooth whole. Therefore, he created big spaces which opened up and were connected to each other. This was supposed to visualize the idea of working together. Besides that, it facilitated visibility. The core was shaped by one big open space in which he created an office landscape. In this office landscape there worked two of the four directors of the Larkin cooperation, namely Darwin Martin and William Heath. This meant that the head of the organization wasn’t on the top floor of the building, but on the ground level. This assured that they were within reach of the employees and customers. It was supposed to emphasize the familiar feeling that the Larkin organization liked to display. However, when Martin and Heath left the organization the concept didn’t work anymore, because it apparently only functioned in conjunction with their specific characters. The way the building functioned was thus not only dependent on architecture or strategic plans, but it functioned through specific persons who can make some things happen. One of the most important aspects with the design of the building was the aspect of working together. The organization was supposed to behave like “one big happy family.” Therefore, openness was needed. This was further emphasized by the organization of family days, picnics, educational activities, and options for profit-sharing (Quinan 1987). To accomplish this, a very luxurious restaurant and roof-terrace were designed. Besides that were revolutionary facilities like air-conditioning, tailor-made furniture, big, open and well-lit workspaces, fire safety, floating toilets for extra hygiene, spaces for sitting down, spaces for relaxation, and a private library. The Larkin Building was a world in itself and only shielded from the outside world by walls. Wright provided a radical division between work and private life. Private life was actually left behind, and the world of work was entered. The idea behind this was that one’s private world would only lead to distraction. Having one’s own work world was supposed to result in satisfied employees who would perform better because of it. Feeling at home was seen as an important ingredient for success. For this, the building was supposed to make

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communal living possible. This was all supposed to benefit the success of work. The most relevant invention of Frank Lloyd Wright was the office landscape at the center of the building. It was the first time that such an idea was used and that working together from a familiar point of view became the core idea. This was opposed to the usual focus on the impersonal and rational. Surrounding the office landscape, the six other floors were built. Daylight came from up above. This was almost like a heavenly light shining down on the majestic and human place of work. Wright’s ideas had a positive impact on working in this building, which was acknowledged in the opinions of the employees, who were mainly positive about their place of work (Quinan 1987). Another important aspect was that the building radiated quietness, even though 1,800 people were working there. In the day-to-day hustle and bustle of a mail-order company, the Larkin Building provided a serene quietness. Apparently, silence is an element for working together. The Larkin Building and its innovations created the blueprint for another groundbreaking Frank Lloyd Wright office building—the Johnson Wax Administration Building from 1936 in Racine, Wisconsin. During that time, Wright developed his utopian vision of the future of the city, called Broadacre City (Carter 1998; De Long 1998; Pfeiffer 1998; Lipman 1986). At first he wanted to use his commission for Johnson Wax for the realization of Broadacre City. It was supposed to be more than just an office building, namely a “Johnson Village,” just outside of the city of Racine. The employees and their families could live there, in their own world. In this way, work would become an integral part of their lives as a complete package in which everything was taken care off. However, the CEO of Johnson Wax didn’t consider this to be a good idea, and decided to build a new office next to the old one, and in the middle of Racine. Wright adjusted his plans but loathed the ugly surroundings. Therefore, he designed a building in which the employees wouldn’t be able to look outside, since the ugly surroundings would result in an unwanted distraction. He created a separate world shielded from the outside, in which the employees would be able to feel at ease. Again, the idea of community was supposed to play an important part. Wright fine-tuned his ideas on working together. The idea was to make the natural or organic character of the building even stronger. In the centre of the building he designed the most important space, the Great Workroom. This space was shaped by a forest of slender dendriform columns, and again the indirect light came

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from above. The employee found themselves more or less in a forest. The columns in the Great Workroom on the one hand provided support for the roof construction, and on the other created a sacral space in which the ideal communal work-conditions could be present. An inspiration for Wright was the cathedral, and with the Johnson Wax Administration Building he created an “Organizational Cathedral” (Lipman 1986). The sublime characteristic of work was to have an appropriate place. Literally lighted from above by natural light, the sacral character of the building was to be given an extra dimension. The colors used were to imitate a natural environment. For this, Wright choose a monochrome color-setting. This was in harmony with the monolithic structure and the monomorphous interior. The Great Workroom was supposed to create a quiet and inspiring environment in which nostalgia had its place. This was in unison with the ideas of Johnson, who wanted to bring the employer and the employee together through good working conditions (Carter 1998). As opposed to Wright’s Prairie Style houses, which drew the attention through their extravagant character, the Johnson Wax, just like the Larkin Building, had a more introverted character. It didn’t allow for involvement from the outside. Air was made indirect through air-conditioning, and the same went for daylight, and looking outside was not possible. We notice how Wright takes a peculiar position. On the one hand, he breaks through organizational clichés, and on the other through architectural clichés. During the same period, there was a modernistic trend noticeable that opened up the surroundings to the inhabitants of buildings. They intended to abolish the difference between inside and outside. An example of this is the Van Nelle factory in Rotterdam. This was also intended to create perfect working conditions based on community and cooperation (Backer, Camp, and Dicke 2005; Hertzberger 2002; de Jonge 2002). Through big glass facades, the employees experienced the feeling of being outside as opposed to being locked up in a building. The natural light contributed to a pleasant and natural work environment. Here, the great desideratum was also light. The difference with the Johnson Wax, however, was that Wright tried everything to make the light indirect, in order to abolish any blinding or disturbing light. Another difference is that Wright chose light from above from a sacral point of view, while Van Nelle had a solid roof and only allowed light to enter from the side. Being enclosed therefore becomes vertical instead of horizontal. Another remarkable difference is that Van Nelle tried to abolish hierarchical relations, while these remained in the Johnson Wax. In

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the Great Workroom, there was still the possibility of panoptical supervision from the mezzanine (Wright 1936). In this way, the largely horizontal building still established some form of hierarchy. However, when paying a visit to the nearby house of Johnson Wax CEO Herbert Johnson, Wingspread, it is noticeable that this mezzanine is probably not really meant for panoptical control, but mainly as a place to retreat and have private conversations. It is thus meant to maintain the organic character of the building, instead of hampering it. Through this, the organic space remains an “any-space-whatever,” in which identity is given space. The poetic characteristics of the space guarantee living. Wright was looking for originality and character in a time of dominance from a uniform and international style of designing and building. He did not want to copy, but to create something unique. Something that fitted the needs of the organization, its employees, and surroundings. He didn’t want to use clichés. He wanted to create a place that offered space to people and that could become relevant and didn’t impose any identities. To achieve this, he needed an entrepreneur like Johnson who was willing to take risks. Besides an architectural icon, the building was a personification of the creativity and style of the cooperation. It became the new logo, attracted creative people and caused international attention, fame, and recognition. It was considered to be the most important piece of architecture of the twentieth century. It was even regarded as the greatest work of art of all time in the US (Frampton 1986). Despite all the financial hassles during the building and designing and which Johnson said would never happen again (Carter 1998), Wright received the commission for the building of the Research Tower. For Wright, this complex task was again a challenge to search for new ways of building and living. He decided to build a tower that didn’t, as usual, consist of four walls, but that was shaped like a tree. A root was deeply anchored into the ground and it branched upwards. Wright would also use this tree structure when building the Price Tower in Bartlesville, Oklahoma in 1956 (Alofsin 2005; Ballon 2004; Wright 1956). In the Price Tower, Wright started using cell-offices, which were half-open through glass walls (Hoffman 1998). He had used this before, although differently, in the Wainwright Building from 1891. This implicates that ideas don’t have to be one offs. It is not the new just for the sake of new. It is about creating a space that makes living possible. Wright called the Price Tower: “The tree that escaped the crowded forest” (Alofsin 2005; Ballon 2004; Wright 1956). It is about the kind of freedom that doesn’t designate the place, but which leaves it open. It is about creating any-spaces-whatever

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that can make living possible. Walking around in the Great Workroom exemplifies this and remains a magical experience. But what do these renewals imply for our thinking about organization and cliché? We have seen how Frank Lloyd Wright developed all these revolutionary ideas, but the question is what their impact has been on our thinking about organization. To what extent have these ideas been used? If we look at the office landscape in the Larking Building, we notice that this concept was only widely used in Europe in the 1960s as the “Bürolandschaft.” Despite the fact that this is a different kind of usage of the space, the idea remains basically the same. This means that there was a gap of sixty years between a new concept and a larger adaptation of this. We can conclude that the ideas of Frank Lloyd Wright have been slowly adapted by other architects or those who were involved in the designing of offices. It is clear that he was way ahead of his time considering his ideas of working together when we compare this with ideas of organization studies. This probably informs us on the sustainability of clichés and not thinking the idea of organization through. But it may also say something about the visionary gaze of architects, who are more used to thinking in images that can display a preferable reality. If this is true, we would do well to keep an eye on them and pay more attention to the relevance of their work. We have seen the distinctive role of architecture in the work of Antonioni. From these thoughts we have been looking at the office, and seen how Frank Lloyd Wright claimed a dominant position. One of the main elements in his thoughts is openness. Spaces are not detached from each other, but are connected as open spaces. Openness can thus be considered a determinate factor. To gain more insight into this, I will discuss the film Playtime by French director Jacques Tati (1907–82).

3.7 Playtime I want the film to begin when you leave the theatre.

Playtime (1967) by French director Jacques Tati shows modern life and the way it influences our behavior. In this world, architecture plays a decisive role. Contrary to Antonioni, who contrasted modern architecture with traditional architecture, Tati creates a world with only modern buildings. These glass buildings not only inform us on architecture, but also about the characteristics of glass. Tati shows how we start to behave under the influence of glass. Glass is a medium that delivers an illusion

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through its sparkling and mirroring that is so real it blinds us. In the end, the visibility of glass creates invisibility. Playtime (1967) was Tati’s magnum opus. After his very successful film Mon Oncle (1959), in which he displayed the whereabouts of a family living in a modern house, he went one step further. It was not about the modern house contrasted to tradition anymore. It was about the new world, which was completely inhabited by modern buildings. These directed the behavior of the people who lived there. Tati wanted to make a film of what the city of Paris would look like in the near future. Paris itself was at the time, however, unfit for filming in, according to Tati. Therefore, he built a complete city outside of Paris called Tativille. This, the number of people working there, and the extreme length of time he took filming the movie, resulted in his going way over budget. For a period of three years, more than one thousand people worked on the project. In the end, the film would lead to his bankruptcy and downfall. He was denied the rights to the film and any profits made, and he would never get the appreciation and fame he deserved. What does Playtime show us? We see an image of the future that is dominated by the modern way of living, and the way this is influenced by technology and architecture. We see a happy, sometimes ridiculous world, in which mime, slapstick, and language which isn’t really language, together with meaningless expressions, play a main part. In the world of Playtime, everyone speaks a bastardization of the existing language. This culminates in a complete confusion of tongues. We see everyone speaking to each other, but whether or not they understand each other remains unclear. It gives the impression that they are just doing something, whatever it is. Reacting to actions is pointless, because this would only lead to more confusion. Tati shows that in the modern world communication has evolved into a meaningless social interaction. We are speaking, but are not interested in the result of this speaking. Communication should play its part, but we are not interested in the message. This makes communication superfluous. This is referred to as “Americanization” (Ockman 2000, 181). It creates confusion, but still life goes on. We see people communicating with each other, but this communication is so superficial that it really doesn’t matter who is talking to whom. The identity is of no use anymore. On the one hand this is because everyone wants to be like everyone else, and on the other because nobody is really interested in the other. The passion vanishes. The distance between persons becomes larger and larger while hierarchical relations disappear. How can there be hierarchy when we do not know who we are,

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or who the other is? In case we do know this, we are apparently unable to transmit this through communication. Therefore, the film has no real protagonist. Everyone more or less plays his or her part, willingly or unwillingly. The glass building from the opening shot can be regarded as a protagonist. According to Tati, it directs modern behavior. We feel uncomfortable surrounded by modern technology and its appearances, and start behaving in the same rational way as the glass building. It is comparable to the grid that directs our behavior. We are steered by it and therefore feel dispossessed and alienated. Our feeling of home is gone. We behave like aliens. Monsieur Hulot, Tati’s character, the mime player from his previous films, appears out of nowhere and steps into the glass building. It looks like he has an appointment. He is asked to wait in a glass room with design chairs. While obediently doing this, it shows that he feels uncomfortable. A second person steps into the waiting room. While Hulot walks through this space, disoriented, alienated, and arrhythmical, fondling objects in a puzzled way while looking out of the window, the second person behaves in a rhythmic and structured way. It is as if he understands the rhythm and mood of the building. This gives the impression that the problem does not lie so much in the specific characters of the buildings or their mood, but with the unease of the characters living in these buildings. This is caused by the glass that has the effect of making everything visible, but nothing that is on the other side can be heard. It is a disorientation of the senses. We can see, but cannot hear. Hulot is standing in a completely transparent waiting room, but is unable to see the person he has an appointment with. This person walks through the waiting room, passes Hulot, and steps outside. Despite the transparency, there is no meeting. This is something that does work for the second person, because he is used to the building and its straight-line rituals. In the moment Hulot sees the person he has an appointment with reflected through the glass, he is unable to reach him. The disorienting mirroring of the glass prevents this. Where is he? In the moment he knows where he is, he wants to walk through the glass door and towards him, but is stopped by a janitor. The bureaucratic character of the building presents itself. The fake transparency and the rational ordering initiate bureaucratic behavior in its inhabitants and visitors. Is the bureaucratic desire responsible for the design of the building? Meeting each other is a complicated thing, despite transparency. We see Hulot entering a big open space, filled with cubicles. A “cubicle” can be described as an artificially created box in a large office landscape. Here we see a fascinating opposition between the glass waiting

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room and the cubicles. The waiting room guarantees that we can see but cannot hear what happens outside, and the cubicle reverses this. Sitting in the cubicle we can hear what happens outside, but we cannot see what is going on. This sensory disturbance calls forth curiosity, but especially a feeling of unease. Hulot looks into the cubicles from above and sees the bizarre symmetrical layout and the fake anonymity of the inhabitants of the cubicles. In order to emphasize this, Tati used cardboard actors in the cubicles instead of real actors. They are there, but are simultaneously absent. Apparently, it makes no difference if you’re a human being or a cardboard doll. The only legitimacy is that you’re in the cubicle. Identity no longer plays a part. We see architecture presented in a laughable and dysfunctional way through the way people in and around it behave. Transparency results in invisibility, privacy through cubicles leads to the loss of identity and straight lines, and structures lead to bureaucracy. We see that the colors fade and everything turns grey. It is as if all color fades from life. We see how modern technology fails, like the control panel that refuses to respond properly to the instructions of the janitor. We see that modern technology creates completely pointless things like a vacuum cleaner with two headlights that improve vision under the cupboards, or rubber doors that make no sound when slammed shut. Nevertheless, Tati isn’t opposed to modern architecture (Borden 2000). If that had been the case, Tati supposedly argued, he would have created the most ugly buildings possible. Obviously, he didn’t do that. He did not want to distract attention from the film itself and focus on the architecture too much. It is more like a critical reflection on modern life in general and a visualization of its comical potential. The strength of the film is this potential to let the viewer experience a new aesthetic game. Tati shows us a pointless space and seems to ask the viewer to find his or her way in it and attribute a meaning, just like we were once asked to give meaning to an apparently pointless and meaningless icon like the Eiffel Tower (Barthes 1964). Just like Antonioni, Tati tries to open our eyes to look in new ways at the built surroundings. This becoming aware of what happens around us by using our senses is also what Tati propagates. This is not only restricted to looking (Borden 2000) with “eyes that do not see” (Ockman 2000, 175), but also includes listening, considering the many “sound jokes” that Tati inserted into his films. The modern future shouldn’t be a sad place. We should be open to the modern experience, learn to enjoy it, be critical of its quality and tradition, and especially not lose track of each other. Considering this, he refers not to a utopia or a dystopia, but to a world in which the heterotopia plays an important part. The heterotopia is,

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contrary to the utopia and dystopia, a real existing place. Foucault (1994; 1967) created this concept that gives space to the unknown and offers the option of dreaming. This is not about labeling or judging its value. It is not about being funny, or sad, or absurd. It is exactly the way it is. Tati’s world is unfixed. This being unfixed offers space to break out of daily rituals and use the potency to investigate and use new perspectives. Sloterdijk (2009) considers the heterotopia to be a space for practicing certain skills. This also assumes a certain sense of freedom. A heterotopia can also show us different places in just one place, places that don’t necessarily belong to each other (Easthope 1997). The ideal image melts into an image of doom in an incomprehensible way. We witness an assemblage that is new for us and which breaks through the dichotomy of good and bad. The boundary vanishes. It is not so much meant to reject the world of Playtime, but to see it as it is. Just like Tati, we should see its humor. Another important facet of Playtime is that Tati filmed in 70 mm. Without going into the technical details too much, this means that a larger frame can offer a bigger picture of what is going on. We see not only a single focus of attention, but also various focusses. All kinds of things are going on, simultaneously and disorderly. The film also offers another image if it is viewed from another seat in the theatre. What is going on in the background becomes visible, and in Playtime there is always something going on somewhere. This means that the cliché-like way of looking and seeing is challenged in order to see things we normally do not see. We are challenged to see the “Big Picture” and redirect our focus of attention. Maybe Tati is suggesting that what happens in the foreground is of less importance than what is going on in the periphery of our view, a limitation made by the frame. Looking for the big picture is challenged by the many details. Our field of attention is broadened and we can move this and be confused by all kinds of things and actions that are outside of the cliché-like world we normally perceive.

3.8 Visibility Let’s return to the office landscape and visibility. In the example of Playtime we have seen the function and relevance of visibility. In the office landscape, visibility is also one of the main starting points. It enables you to see the other and the other can see you. Nobody can hide. Transparency claims to be a rational transparency. The problem with this is that there are no objective values as to how to behave, and this results in insecurity (Gabriel 2003). Visibility tries to offer something that is

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impossible. The objective rational reality turns out to be an appearancereality in the world of visibility. This creates narcissism, awareness of the own image, and unpredictable behavior. Everyone starts to develop and present his or her imaginary identity. This results in a mishmash of characters that are trying to find an acceptable role in this situation. This not only leads to the other remaining a stranger, but it also creates a distance to one’s own self. The clarity that visibility claims to offer results in an unpredictable chaos. This chaos is shaped by the polymorphic manifestation of cliché-like images that the actors have adapted. The image is therefore shaped by the fear of being seen and narcissistic masturbation (Gabriel 2003). The potency of incomprehensibility isn’t used. An important aspect in this is hierarchy. If equality disappears, for instance through hierarchical power relations, this generates a different kind of visibility. This visibility can be regarded as control. It implicates a potential power that can be described as panoptical power. This power is not unilateral. This means that a situation emerges in which leaders control the employees, while these same employees control the organization (Cairns, McInnes, and Roberts 2003). The actors behave according to their own visibility and the visibility of the leader. Vice versa, the leader is only driven by visibility. This is a situation of control and being controlled. Control is everywhere and nowhere. Inevitably, control leads to no control. Therefore, it can be argued that panoptical power in an office landscape is pointless. Control always results in a lack of control. But there is another aspect. As we see and are seen, we start to adapt our behavior to each other. This adaptation results in an average of an “all too familiar world” (Elmer 2003, 245). It leads to a cliché-like world in which it is easy to find more of the same, but it becomes increasingly difficult to find something deviant. This implies that the idea that the office landscape boosts creativity should be doubted. How do architects handle visibility and panoptical power? The panopticon is based on the idea of the dome-prison of Jeremy Bentham and is extensively described by French philosopher Michel Foucault (2001). In a circular building, the guard is in the centre. Around him are cells that are lit in every corner. The guard is sitting in the dark, the prisoners are in the light. This makes it possible for the guard to see the prisoners, while the prisoners constantly have the feeling that they are being watched, because they cannot see the guard or know if he is present or not. There is a sort of implicit power that creeps under the skin, and shapes their behavior. “The gaze of the guard and the full light are better prisons, than the darkness which offers protection in the end. Visibility is a

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trap” (Foucault 2001, 276). Visibility strengthens the sense of imprisonment. The power is simultaneously visible and invisible. “Visible—the prisoner constantly sees the silhouette of the high central tower from which he is spied upon, in front of him. Opaque—the prisoner should never know if he is actually being watched, but he should be imbued by the idea, that this is possible at all times” (Foucault 2001, 278). The panopticon realizes a unilateral power relation in which invisibility supposes power, and visibility powerlessness. This is a different relation from the one we have seen in Playtime, in which glass only causes invisibility. According to Foucault, the basic idea of the panopticon can also be used for other institutions. We can see the office landscape as an example in which the same principle can be used. A prerequisite is that the manager has a place outside of the office landscape that enables him to look into the office landscape while remaining invisible. The employees will feel that they’re constantly being watched, even if they’re not. This power relation is different when the manager is seated in the office landscape, a situation comparable to the one in the Larkin Building. This results in new conditions. The manager as well as the employee are visible. This creates an extra, invisible, and implicit power for the manager, but also for the employee. They can keep an eye on each other all the time. They are watched and are being watched, without knowing if this watching contains a judgement on their behavior. The situation becomes dispossessed. The visibility creates unease and not ease. It doesn’t deliver as promised. It works as a trap. The employee and the manager are imprisoned by each other’s gaze. This has an impact on the possibility for employees to feel at home or to be able to live in the office landscape. But it also informs us on the manager. He or she is the person watching people while they are simultaneously being watched by those same people. His or her role, which could be that of a role model, is magnified many times. This is a situation of a reverse-panopticon (Elmer 2003). Because the panoptical power is revered, it vanishes. According to the American architect and critic Kenneth Frampton (1995), there are two typical examples that show opposite opinions on panoptical power and space. These are the Centraal Beheer building of Herman Hertzberger and the Willis, Faber & Dumas building from Norman Foster. I want to use these two to investigate the ways in which these spaces are any-spaces-whatever, and as such are fit for living. In the Centraal Beheer building from 1972, Hertzberger created a “city within a city.” An interior climate for living was shaped in which the employees could feel at home. In order to achieve this, he kept the

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building “empty.” By this was meant, “to exhort the employees to take possession of these spaces and to decorate them spontaneously” (Frampton 1995, 368). These individual spaces gave the employees the opportunity to handle their own interior decoration. They could bring their own paraphernalia, like carpets, flooring, or table lamps, cupboards or armchairs. In this way, a personal atmosphere could be created. This was supposed to result in a pleasant living space for work. The employee was supposed to feel more at home and thus be able to live. Hertzberger took living seriously. It was supposed to result in feeling at home and a sense of togetherness in which the individual wasn’t inferior. This, in turn, was supposed to lift up creativity and especially the potency for change. The organization changes in a physical way, together with the employees. Hertzberger deviated from the Tayloristic ideas on the interior decoration of offices, in which everything should be identical and the employee should be subordinate to the machine. This machine was meant to supply visibility, transparency, and control. Contrarily, Hertzberger gave space to the rhizome and thus to the nomad in the Centraal Beheer building. The informal and rhizomatic character of the organization isn’t denied but emphasized. The hierarchy is neutralized. One of the ways this is done is by hiding the entrance. There isn’t one distinctive and obvious entrance, there are several. This was also the case with the Larkin Building and the Johnson Wax Administration Building. There is no dominance over people, there is connection. A community of inhabitants can be shaped. The space is an any-space-whatever, and the employees can feel free to develop and display their identity and add relevance to the space. This implies that living is possible. A happy workforce is a productive workforce.

The above citation is from English architect Norman Foster (2002), and refers to his Willis, Faber & Dumas building from 1975 in Ipswich, England. Where Hertzberger leaves all the space to the inhabitants, Foster does the opposite. Foster’s space is fixed. However, he does believe that his building contributes to the social element of work. Furthermore, when built, the building offered a flexibility way ahead of its time. Therefore, major changes in the field of ICT could be made without any real problems. The building has a glass facade, which functions as a mirror during the daytime, and which more or less makes the building disappear. The only visible thing is a mirror reflecting the surroundings. The surroundings are duplicated, while the building really is a nothing. It is an architecture of almost nothing, just as was propagated by German architect Mies van der Rohe, and which was realized in his famous Barcelona

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pavilion, among others (Rovira 2002). At night, Foster’s building becomes transparent through the lighting within (Jodidio 1997). Then, the building claims its position in the neighborhood. Hertzberger “tries to overcome the bureaucratic division of labor” (Frampton 1995, 370), while Foster tries to focus everything on order and control. His building is arranged like a grid. It is a fixed and hodological space. Hertzberger offers freedom, while Foster emphasizes the bitter seriousness of being trapped in the organization. Foster offers hygiene, Hertzberger parasitical infection. Foster is visibility, Hertzberger is veiling. Hertzberger offers the employees the freedom to make the building their own, while Foster imposes his will onto the employees in the organization. They should obey the rhythm and mood of the building. Foster’s ideas are still caught in the realm of clichés like order, control, hygiene, and transparency. It is the choice of a hierarchical tree structure. It is the choice of isomorphism. The reason for this is probably that isomorphism helps with control and domination. Hertzberger, on the other hand, chooses the rhizome. He doesn’t try to create the reality, but acknowledges the appearance-reality. If the stupidest TV game shows are so successful, it’s because they’re a perfect reflection of the way businesses are run. (Deleuze 2002)

The above citation from Gilles Deleuze refers to the way in which we slowly change from a society based on discipline into a society based on control. Although he doesn’t refer to it, Deleuze critiques the apparent limitation as constructed in Foster’s Willis, Faber & Dumas building. According to him, we are in a situation where limitations are vanishing (Deleuze 2002). Discipline had its limits, which implied certain fixed points. With control this is no longer the case. Control is implicit and everywhere. This causes a division between our environment and ourselves. We are not capable of demarcating things anymore, because we are always put in motion. Whereas we can present a part of our identity in Hertzberger’s building, this is not possible in Foster’s building. We step into an artificial world that apparently nobody directs, but which is directed. There is no more original authentic behavior. Everyone acts according to the supposed perception of the other while being under the influence of the idea of control. The space is determined by control (Levin, Frohne, and Weibel 2002). It appears to be determined, but really it is undetermined.

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3.9 Megadebacleopolis After having extensively discussed that time is out of joint, it seems trivial or even superfluous to look into the future. Nevertheless, I will do this, but in a restricted way. The restriction is that I start off with the future, as this was seen, but never realized. This will probably offer some food for thought on what an alternative future could look like. After that I will display some fantasies. We have concluded that present, past, and future are not limited compartments, but that they are fluid shapes that infect each other. An infection from the 1950s is a utopian concept of living called New Babylon. Its creator was Constant, a member of the art-collective COBRA. French philosopher Guy Debord, known for his work The Society of the Spectacle (1967), was also a member. They resisted the ideas on city planning dominant at the time, and which intended to discipline individuals. The ideas behind the concept were creativity and freedom. The helpless human should be freed from the chains of the spectacle. In other words: “New Babylon is the fictitious result of a total liberation— from an abolishment of every kind of convention, every tradition, every habit” (Heynen 2001a, 210–11). The cliché-like imprisonment should be abolished. To achieve this they tried to design an architecture that would enable living. New Babylon was meant to generate a concept of living in which people would be free to encounter an authentic experience. The extensive mechanization of work was supposed to result in work becoming superfluous, thus rendering all the remaining time free time. Free time implicated freedom. To achieve this, a drastic and continuous change was needed from the inhabitants and from architecture. This was based on a subversive urge to trigger a thorough change in society. This change was strongly based on the built environment. It was supposed to gain a completely new character and appearance by being an assemblage of separate elements for living that were connected rhizomatically. In other words, there was no center, no beginning or end, but a system of endless connections that excluded hierarchy. It wouldn’t be a static but fluid whole that was constantly subject to change. There were no standards and no fixed shapes. It was supposed to be an architecture of continuous and all-encompassing movement. The rhizome would spread further and further, which would result in a global structure. New Babylon is a dynamic labyrinth which is constantly being re-shaped by the spontaneity and creativity of its inhabitants, (Heynen 2001a, 222)

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The inhabitants of New Babylon roam around like nomads, apparently aimless but involved. Common values like memories disappear. Everything changes and therefore the daily grind is avoided. Boredom is prevented. There is room for the “playing man,” the “homo ludens” (Huizinga 1950). He or she has a desire for collective space, which occupies most of New Babylon. In this collective space there is room for experiment. It is also a space where the cultural life can be shaped. Through the continuous movement of the spaces there is always room for new experiences. It is fertile soil for creation and the abolishment of memory and tradition. The cliché becomes obsolete. The world of New Babylon is fascinating and thrilling. It is tempting and ignites a desire for freedom. The many photographed models and drawings of New Babylon (Wigley 1998), however, also reveal a cold and grim world that evokes a certain fascination, but which also questions the size of the gap between the completely new concept of New Babylon and the traditional world of the spectacle. According to Heynen (2001a), it is not possible to live there, and that has never been the intention of the creator Constant. He was aware of the utopian character of New Babylon. The experiment was more important than the realization.

Parasite Another example of imaginations of the future are the designs of Lebbeus Woods. Contrary to the network structures of New Babylon, he creates parasite-like structures that cling to existing structures. They are looking for their place in an existing city. In this way, they make the city indeterminate again and thus break through fixed structures. The grid is disturbed. They picture the resistance against the city which is organized like a hierarchy, and whose oppression functions through its buildings and a direct and repressive monologue. Along with these thoughts is the idea that this hierarchical city is slowly fading away under the influence of new media. It is a twofold pressure that triggers change, and should give the individual back their freedom. It should make the individual think. The parasites of Lebbeus Woods do not intend to remove what is already there, but cherish the memories and history. We can see this in the way they nestle themselves in the scars of a city devastated by war. In this way, these scars are literally kept alive. They keep reminding us of the wounds inflicted upon the city. The wounds are not cleaned. The relevance of the place or its meaning, which is mentioned as a prerequisite for living, is maintained. Hosophobic urges are repressed. Where hygiene was considered the main issue with modernism, Lebbeus Woods propagates

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the maintenance of infection. It is not about repairing or reconstructing, but about making it fit for living. These are not passive buildings that play an inconspicuous or meaningless role, they are active appearances that disturb the fixed order. We cannot refer to the structures of Woods as just houses or buildings. They are acting and active structures. They are sondes, explorers that research beyond what we already know and where life and experiment fuse into each other, where you have to invent everything on the spot in a continuous Now. (Makkink and Spuybroek 1992, 40)

The continuous change puts the pressure on the common conventions in order to break through them. This should enable the freedom of individuals. Through this, the buildings of Lebbeus Woods give space to the changing social context. He names this the “heterarchical city” (Lebbeus Woods 1992, 11). In this, the process of becoming is given space. It is opposed to the traditional hierarchic city, which makes only being possible, and gives no space to freedom or development. In the heterarchic city there is the so-called “Free Zone” (Lebbeus Woods 1992). This is an undetermined space. “Free Space is not invested in predetermined meaning. Strictly speaking, it is ‘useless’ and ‘meaningless’ space” (Lebbeus Woods 1991, 7). This free space isn’t determined in advance and isn’t aimed at a goal, but offers space for the experiment. It exceeds the boundary between dream and reality (Lebbeus Woods 1992). The experiment, initiated and fueled by the dream, construes a fluid reality which is in a constant process of becoming. This feeds the subversive potential like the one playing a relevant role in Deleuze’s thoughts about film. The Free Zone gives the inhabitants the possibility to grant meaning to the spaces. Therefore, they are comparable to the Deleuzian “any-spacewhatever.” This doesn’t mean that this is immediately obvious for the inhabitant. He or she shall have to learn to live in them, which starts with getting rid of all common conventions. Lebbeus Woods states: “In a certain sense you have to enter them naked, you cannot take your past with you” (Makkink and Spuybroek 1992, 41). Just as Lebbeus Woods rejects the traditional hierarchic city, he rejects the grid. He claims that the grid has no character and, for him, this is the reason that office work that is organized and shaped according to a grid has no character and therefore calls forth an unprecedented dullness. We witnessed this with the cubicles in Playtime. According to Lebbeus Woods, the straight lines and predictability of the grid create a dullness, which is absent in the free space. Lebbeus Woods claims that the grid,

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which is visualized like a pyramid in organization, should be traded in for the heterarchy. This heterarchy can be described as a spontaneously shaped network of autonomous individuals, whose acting designates the system of authority. He refers to it as a “cybernetic circus” (1992, 142). The acting individuals don’t let themselves be digested by the system but enter into a dialogue. They create their free space, the free zone, in which they can experiment, apparently without any goals in mind. This initiates a liberation from the past and rusty conventions. Lebbeus Woods doesn’t consider this condition to be voluntary, but necessary. Human beings have lost themselves in the dullness and predictability called forth by the grid (Makkink and Spuybroek 1992). The parasite buildings were meant to change this and break through conventions. This makes the borders between in and outside, and work and leisure, disappear. Blindly these parasites feed into the existing buildings, straight through all chambers and residences—as if an enormous beetle entered the house. (Makkink and Spuybroek 1992, 41)

From these designs a continuous feeling crawls up on you that they can disrupt and penetrate the existing order at any moment. They will jump existing buildings, cling on to them, and worm their way in. The existing order is not safe anymore. Breaking loose from conventions is supported by the architecture that can be regarded as acting and active structures. The rusty gets loosened up. Movement becomes possible. Just like the human is in movement, the buildings are in movement. This movement makes the necessary experiment possible. This is inherent to the lack of a goal. We are searching, and start experimenting. We are nomads. The buildings and spaces of Lebbeus Woods can be described as smooth spaces. They are like rhizomes. This makes them not so much the fourth world as described by Castells (2000) as a world of renegades who are evicted from the system. The free zone of Lebbeus Wood can be regarded as the fifth world, the world of the nomad.

Virus Someone who also wants to visualize the nomadic world is Dutch architect Wiel Arets. He is famous for buildings like the arts academy in Maastricht, the university-library in Utrecht, and the AZL building in Heerlen. These are radical and almost minimalistic buildings that belong in their contextual surroundings, and at the same time challenge them. In his treatise “Un-Conscious City,” he elucidates this. Central in this is the

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notion of the “positive virus.” “This is not about the way a building looks, but about the attitude of a building” (2005, 4). This means that a building shouldn’t abnegate the daily, but should provoke it. This should contribute to a new way of seeing for people. According to Arets, buildings with the right attitude can make this happen. In order to be able to act in the illusionary nomadic world, architecture plays a crucial role. This role consists of designing and constructing buildings with an attitude. They are like a positive virus in a certain city. This makes it possible to create a social reality from our individuality and solipsistic experience. The world of Arets is an individual one. “We all live in another world, we all see another movie and still we try to communicate with each other within an assumed reality” (Arets 2005, 7). We all have our own experience, or, like he argues, we all see our own film. Reality is an illusion, communication is an illusion, and in this illusion we have to learn how to dream. Architecture enables dreaming. As mentioned earlier, architecture should be created by dreams, and architecture should make dreaming possible. Arets takes the first steps, not only with his treatise, but also through his buildings. As a context, he uses his idea of the Un-Conscious-City. This is: the city we experience in a dream, the unsensational, the unthought, the simple perception of our changing reality. The contemporary culture is based on imperfect systems, on insecurities, and is more flexible; the individual decision is more important than ever, which is also the most vulnerable thing of our time. (Arets 2005, 7)

Just like in the world of Lebbeus Woods, the individual plays a crucial part. Where Lebbeus Woods sets his hopes on parasites, Arets chooses viruses. Arets isn’t as radical and this has probably resulted in the fact that the dreams of Arets have been realized, while those of Lebbeus Woods have been largely limited to designs. This doesn’t imply a judgement of taste, by the way, because once a dream has been realized it isn’t a dream anymore. Still, dreams remain a possibility in the realized designs of Arets. The interaction between dream and architecture remains a possibility, and the virus can infect the social environment. Lebbeus Woods pointed out the relation between the grid and office work and the resulting dullness. Arets (Van Toorn 2005) informs us that the fusion of work and leisure results in houses becoming more like workplaces, and that workplaces require more homeliness. With this, he, probably unintentionally, refers to the principles of the Larkin Building and the Martin House of Frank Lloyd Wright, as discussed earlier. Arets intentionally draws a clear line between work and leisure, and chooses a

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fusion of the two. Therefore, his house is equipped with an office, and his office is like a home. This doesn’t mean there is one and the other, but that it is a matter of two and two. He predicts that more and more leisure will find its way into the office (Van Toorn 2005). Free time is becoming an increasingly important element of work. He regards it as a positive viral influence in offices. The way in which a building is experienced remains a personal experience. It is the private film we see. Therefore, Arets pays a lot of attention to the routing in a building. The routing is something which opens up the way to the visitor. It is like a director who wants to show something. It is some kind of preconceived way of revealing what can be unique. The route makes the distinction between work and leisure disappear. The viral character is not only on the inside, but also on the outside. Like a positive virus, the exterior finds its space in the context of its surroundings. In this way, the exterior, interior, and program of the buildings fuse into a personal experience to dream. This positive virus challenges the mediocracy and fuels constructive conflicts. Arets, as well as Lebbeus Woods and New Babylon, tries to describe a future world that revolves around the building and the city. A difference is that the grimness of Lebbeus Woods is opposed to the positivity of Arets. The latter tries to give a positive injection to a rather meaningless city, while Lebbeus Woods chooses an extreme approach through an immersion in the jelly of the all-encompassing city. Both of them want to house the nomad. New Babylon is designing a new rhizomatic city, while Lebbeus Woods and Arets infect the traditional city. The science fiction worlds of Lebbeus Woods seem to be strongly affected by the literary genre of sci-fi that is a strong influence on the imagination of the built future. In this, science fiction functions as both a mirror and a testing ground (Schrijver and Avidar 2005a; Schrijver 2005; Boyer 2005; Matrix 2005). This works for the testing of the utopian as well as the dystopian varieties. It describes the way in which cities become isomorphous and how they transform into large living-rooms in which the inhabitants are imprisoned. Here, also, the fear for alienation and a predomination of technology are at the centre of attention. One of the points of concern is the so-called “Sprawl.” The sprawl is the seemingly endless and shapeless growing out of the inner city. This is where the grim and brutal way of living of the future takes place. It refers to existing cities. The question is in what way they will develop and how they can be transformed. Someone who deviates from these ideas is American cyberpunk author Bruce Sterling (Schrijver and Avidar 2005b). He suggests making

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seemingly unlivable and uninhabited areas fit for living. This means that he doesn’t want to change the existing, but create something new in a radical way: “large scale, very ambitious, very sophisticated, reactive, intelligent, computational twenty-first century structures built in areas that have never been settled by anyone …” (2005b, 106). Sterling leaves the city as it is and starts searching for new spaces in which the nomad lives. It is, however, typical how the discussed architects acknowledge the nomad, and at the same time want to imprison him or her in a building or a constellation of buildings. In this way, the nomad is chained. According to De Cauter (2004; 2001), we are sedentary nomads, or in other words seated travelers. More and more this takes place in capsules in which we move around. This implies that we have to learn how to live in moving capsules. Considering this, traffic jams or congestion might offer a solution, and we should probably cherish them instead of trying to get rid of them. This also goes for the virtual movement, which is combined with sitting. We roam around, physically or virtually, from one capsule to the next, a movement in which the points of connection are important. They become more and more important as they offer a possibility for being. In these points of connection, we can be anonymous. We are only with ourselves. The cliché of a standstill equals decline is abolished. A standstill is a standstill, isn’t it?

3.10 Conclusions In this chapter, the focus was on space and the way it is shaped through architecture. We have seen that architecture plays a crucial part in our thinking on clichés. This means that if film uses its potency to break through clichés it needs the help of architecture. The question that arises then is—exactly what role does architecture play? We have seen that the role is mainly determined by the concept of living. However, living is something that isn’t thought about anymore. Therefore, we are in a socalled state of homelessness. Thinking about living puts us in a position to break through clichés that are related to architecture. Another important element in this thinking is the Deleuzian notion of the any-space-whatever. This undeterminable and undesignated space should make living possible. These are spaces that make room for thinking. They enable us to transform them into relevant places and give meaning to them. Furthermore, we have seen that Heidegger considers living to be identical to being, but also to building. This implicates that before we are able to build, in other words to create a space, we have to know what living is. This is also the case with living in organizations. I

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have argued that the boundary between being in the organization and not being in the organization has vanished. Through this, it has become clear that living in organization is a relevant concept that is needed to break through clichés. With the help of architectural examples like the Martin House, the Larkin Building, and the Johnson Wax Administration Building of Frank Lloyd Wright, the Villa VPRO, the Centraal Beheer building of Hertzberger, and the Willis, Faber & Dumas building from Norman Foster, I have investigated what these buildings have to tell us about living and the any-space-whatever. In the case of Frank Lloyd Wright, we have seen that architecture, in its endeavor to break through clichés, is way ahead of its time. Furthermore, I have discussed various approaches to office architecture. In the case of Hertzberger, this meant openness and freedom, whereas in the case of Foster this implied a rational grid that leaves no space for the employee in the organization, but imprisons him or her. Following this, I have investigated the relation between film and architecture with the help of the work of Tati and Antonioni. The latter has shown us that we are stuck in tradition and still have to get used to the new. We have to learn to give meaning to it. Just like the traditional architecture, modern architecture has the potency to make living possible. We should become aware of this and learn how to deal with the new situation. Tati shows us a world of glass and makes it clear that the transparency of glass can mean invisibility. It shows, as argued by Foucault (2001), that visibility is a trap. Tati pictures a world without protagonists, in which language is absent, and in which technology has a will of its own. He makes us laugh about this bizarre and onerous world. He shows us the absurdity of the daily banality. As an extension, I have investigated the notion of visibility in offices and especially in the office landscape. This has shown again that transparency doesn’t always imply visibility. Seeing often implicates that we are not seeing. This means that the office landscape has another dimension. Finally, I have looked into an undetermined future and investigated the concepts of the parasite and the virus. This showed that infection of the common order is needed to keep it vital. In other words, the grid-like order of the cliché should be challenged and disrupted. In the next chapter, I will focus on organization and the way in which the cliché takes its shape, especially in relation to acting.

CHAPTER FOUR ORGANIZATION AND CLICHÉ

4.1 Introduction The games are the only way to survive the job Everybody has their wee vanities, their own little conceits.

The above quote from Irvine Welsh (1999) brings us to the last chapter of our thinking about organization and cliché. The quote underscores that there are other images of organization than the one presented in annual reports. These images from the annual reports are based on what can be perceived and in what way reality can be manufactured, in which a meansends rationality is the starting point. Furthermore, there is the idea that staff, who are focused on the same goal, are motivated, or can be motivated. The organization, as sketched in the annual reports, has been described as a machine that can be programmed. This machine has to be transparent, because transparency apparently enables control. This is important because there seems to be danger lurking in the outside world. In order to be armed, transparency, purposiveness, and solidarity are important. I have concluded that this results in cliché-like organizations. These are organizations that are caught in clichés. In my investigation into clichés, I have shown another world than the one presented in annual reports. Welsh’s citation confirms this. With the help of the film books of Deleuze, I have concluded that the following characteristics are of use. The first is the dispersed situation. This means that a situation is not univocal but poly-interpretable. There is not one description or truth for a certain situation. The second is that there is no logic or a clear-cut sequence of events. The specific parts are cut loose, and the connections are weak. The only thing that keeps them together is chance. The third is that I have concluded that purposiveness is exchanged for strolling. The journey and the continuous return are becoming determinative. The action cannot be designated in advance, because it isn’t included in what we perceive. The fourth is that the only thing that keeps everything together is clichés. From this the fifth can be retrieved, namely

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the monocracy of clichés. Something that implies a conspiracy. We only perceive clichés. This is considered an unacceptable situation. This unacceptable situation has resulted in us being alienated from this world. Therefore, breaking through clichés is necessary and should eventually lead to our regaining our trust in this world. For this we need the potency of film. But what does all this imply for our thinking about organization and cliché? After investigating cliché, film, and architecture, it is now time to return to organization. With the help of some relevant films we can look at the way organization presents itself. Attention is especially drawn towards the idea of the programmable machine and its relation to transparency. The following films will be considered: Dogville, Das Experiment, Brazil, and Office Space. I will also go into the thoughts on boredom by German philosopher Peter Sloterdijk. I will start this chapter with the fourth and final part of The Big Lebowski, in which elements of organization are pivotal. These are more or less similar to those in the organizations in the annual reports. Where the mentioned organizations come up with a clear, lean and mean, shiny and hopeful plan, we see that things get completely out of hand in The Big Lebowski. In The Big Lebowski we witness a world that is incomprehensible, where nothing is what it seems, and where strolling is the only option. These images give an insight into the theory that will be discussed in this chapter. At the end, I will draw some conclusions.

4.2 The Big Lebowski (part 4) The beauty of this is its simplicity once a plan gets too complex everything can go wrong

This statement is made by Walter halfway during the film. He and the Dude are sitting in a car, and they are on their way to Bunny Lebowski’s kidnappers. Walter is present at his own request and immediately takes control. He wants to be the leader and therefore takes his place behind the wheel. He pretends to understand the situation and therefore knows what he has to do. The Dude, just like the viewer, has no idea what is going on. The situation is incomprehensible and the incoherence seems to feed itself to remain viable. Walter does not see it this way and his trust in straight lines enables him to come up with a simple plan. This should overpower the kidnappers and free Bunny. His faith in straight lines also makes it impossible to do nothing, because the solution is close at hand. As in the above citation, he literally claims that a situation is never complex, but that it is always made complex and as a result plans are impossible. His faith in

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simplicity, however, underestimates the complexity and dispersiveness of the situation. The Dude tries to convince him of this complexity, but the stubbornness and self-confidence of Walter, combined with the acquiescence of the Dude and perhaps the serendipity of the situation, eventually result in things going totally wrong. Walter’s plan to handover a fake ransom to the kidnappers and successively overpower them with physical violence does not work, because the kidnappers instruct the Dude and Walter to throw the money out of the moving car. Walter states: we cannot do that, that fucks up our plan

Walter’s plan doesn’t work out despite or maybe because of its simplistic character. Walter is taken aback. The Dude tries to talk sense into him, and persuade him to think again: sooner or later you’re gonna have to face the fact that you’re a goddamn moron

Naturally, this doesn’t make an impression on Walter who does not want to back down. He remains self-confident and trusts his analytic abilities and capacities to solve difficult situations and bring them to a happy end. There is a solution for everything and the solution is simple. However, the film shows that this is an illusion. A plan is impossible and the connections have disappeared. Means-ends rationality is of no use. Furthermore, there is no logical sequence of actions to be designated. The knowable connection has disappeared. This is made clear by the abovedescribed situation in which the Dude and Walter are caught up. The mentioned dispersed situation makes Walter’s plan impossible. The Dude knows this, but despite this knowing the plan is still executed. The persuasiveness of Walter and the accompanying raising of his voice confirm that things are done his way. It is his verbal aggression that accomplishes the backing down of his competitors. He is the law, even if things go wrong. This so-called bullying sees to it that other arguments are rejected. Thinking becomes impossible. The bullying can be described as: “a form of interpersonal aggression or hostile, anti-social behavior in the workplace” (Salin 2003, 1215). Their workplace in this situation is their car. We can claim that bullying is detrimental to organization, because it prevents thinking. This not only has a negative impact on the cooperation of people, but also has a negative financial effect. In other words, the organization loses money. We can assume that it will also have its effect

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on the annual reports. Furthermore, there is the idea that bullying does not need a hierarchical relationship per se, because it also happens between colleagues (Salin 2003). The physical surroundings and the situation influence this and feed the aggression. Bullying mostly takes place in institutions like the army or prisons. These rational and straightforward organizations apparently create better conditions for bullying. These conditions enable that bullying can be institutionalized. In other words, it becomes common behavior through copying. It becomes part of, “the way things are done’ (Ibid., 1220). Bullying becomes a cliché. For Walter it is an integral part of his repertoire for acting. This can be explained by his constant referring to his Vietnam experiences and the way in which he regularly compares situations to the army. The bullying helps him get what he wants and win arguments, at least according to himself. He shuts up his opponents. In this way, bullying turns out to be a successful method. It furthermore shows that his belief in transparency and means-ends rationality and the resulting simple plan is easier to market and difficult to refute. It can be easily wrapped up in yelling. Simple is what we already know and what isn’t estranged from our perception. The cliché is tempting and is apparently easily embraced instead of realizing that the complexity might have no solution. Nothing ever changes

Walter makes this statement halfway through the film. He makes this statement as if he is in dialogue with himself and the outside world is absent for a while. In his way of dividing the world into good and bad and his striving for simplification, he concludes that nothing really ever changes. This could be considered a positive thing. It could implicate that the unchangeable, the knowability of the world would result in a transparency that can simplify acting. Despite Walter being an advocate for simplicity, the situation makes him decide otherwise. According to him, the world should change. The way it is now, a world in which nobody sticks to the rules is unacceptable. This would implicate that things are deteriorating. No, the goal is obvious. It should be a world in which everything takes its nicely ordered course, and in which everything is clear and transparent. A world in which you know in what way you can depend on each other and where progress is made. On the one hand this feeds his striving for improvements, which he can chew into obsessively, and which guarantee that he can pursue his role. On the other hand it is disappointing and gives the feeling of being under lock and key in a situation in which the bowling alley, its rituals, and his bowling buddies seem to offer the only escape. The world of Walter is apparently not as simple as he would

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like it to be. Because of his continuous resistance against complexity or its denial and his blind faith in simplicity, he becomes powerless. His only way out is bullying. Meanwhile, the Dude has another opinion on this case. He doesn’t oppose the complexity and incomprehensibility of the situation. He doesn’t want to simplify it. Whether something changes or not does not make a difference to him. He looks at it in a shallow way and concludes that he really does not know what is going on. The complexity prevents a clear view and the resulting simple plan. But that is not what he is really interested in. He does not care about big ideals or making the world a better place. He has no interest in changes and goals. It is about survival and getting through the day. His careless life is disturbed and in his own careless way he tries to get back to his daily routine. When he is asked to explain the situation, he answers: a very complicated case lotta ins, lotta outs, lotta what have yous … lotta facets, lotta interested parties.

The situation is incomprehensible. It is apparently unknowable. This doesn’t withhold everyone from sticking to their roles one way or the other. This makes the situation familiar for the other actors, and creates a situation in which they can act. We might wonder how they shape their roles and to what extent they are lived by these roles. What are their options? On the one hand, they are confronted with various kinds of stages and audiences, on the other hand it is about their emotional involvement. How does the situation they are into affect their way of acting? We see that they look for a place where they can feel at home. A place that has meaning for them. An important place in this is the bowling alley. Another one is the car. This last one plays an important part when the Dude and Walter are on their way to meet the kidnappers. In the car they keep in contact with the kidnappers through a mobile telephone. This creates a situation of two places—one for the Dude and Walter, and one for the Dude and the kidnappers, with Walter in the background. The last contact is, as mentioned, via the telephone, although the kidnappers also state: “you’re being watched.” The telephone plays a decisive role. At the moments when the telephone is disconnected they have the possibility of creating their plan or strategy. It has already been made clear that this is not a joint venture.

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Walter’s bullying designates the way business is done. His plan is executed. The coordination takes place between their talks with the kidnappers. This goes as well for the adjustment of the plan. When they are on the line with the kidnappers they have to act in a different way, because the kidnappers should have the impression that the Dude and Walter are cooperating with their plan of handing over the ransom. Therefore, the car becomes the place to prepare their act and practice this. It is also the place where an act has to be performed. The two places in the car create a situation in which they have to act for an audience, in this case the kidnappers, and a situation in which they can prepare their act. These two situations can be described as frontstage and backstage (Goffman 1959). These two places and the various roles they play create a situation that might have been simple at first, but turns into a situation that is complex. For all the parties involved it becomes incomprehensible. Let’s dive further into the acting in The Big Lebowski. It not only has a dimension in space, but also in psychological depth. The latter can be described as the intensity with which you are absorbed by a role. How real is the role that is played, for the actor and for the audience? If we look at Jesus Quintana, the theatrical bowling hero, who is also a convicted pederast, we witness an intense and extravagant spectacle that is intended to intimidate his opponents and convince them of his invincibility. He not only acts this way for his opponents, but also for his audience and especially for himself. He wants to make a convincing impression of the character he would love to be. We also see this with the Big Lebowski in his wheelchair or with Uli Cunckol in his role as Karl Hungus the pornstar. Apparently, identity has different dimensions in the performed role. We can refer to this as deep acting and surface acting (Hochchild 1983, 1979). The first implies that the actor is emotionally immersed in their role, more or less fusing with it. In other words, you become your role. The latter means that you keep an emotional distance to the role you are playing. Another important aspect is whether the image you like to present is the image that is perceived. In other words, if the outcome of sending and receiving is identical. Goffman (1959) refers to this as “give” and “giveoff,” the output and input. In other words, the impression you want to deliver and what you actually deliver. This can be referred to as the management of impressions (Giacalone and Rosenfeld 1991; 1989). In The Big Lebowski, almost all of them are trying to give the impression of being successful. This myth of success apparently belongs to the conviction with which they are performing their roles. In all of these cases, however, it is meant to hide another and conflicting role. We can see an example of this

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with Jesus Quintana. He gives the image of a bowling-hero, until Walter reveals Jesus’s past as a pederast. We then see a totally different Jesus. To what extent Walter’s story is true, however, remains a mystery. Not that this makes any difference. It is not about the reality of the created image. It is about the extent to which the created image, the one who’s image is presented, influences the situation. This apparently happens in the case of Jesus. The viewer is put in doubt. The cause is not only the unlikely story, but especially the combination of the story and the appearance of Jesus. When we look at the Big Lebowski, we see someone held hostage by his wheelchair, trying to give an impression of a successful businessman. Someone who has achieved his goals in life. However, in the film he is unmasked as a swindler, without any success, money, or work. His reproach to the Dude to “get a job” turns out to be addressed to himself. The actors want to be someone they are not. We see that the identities are shaped through the interaction of the various characters. The stories and appearances play an important role in this. If we take a look at porn producer Jackie Treehorn, we see that he wants to present himself as a successful and respected businessman. He partially succeeds. The chief of police of Malibu describes him as: “one of our most respected citizens, who draws a lot of water in this town.” This means that there are various images of a character. This implies that transparency becomes problematic. But it is not only a matter of identity, it goes beyond this. There are also things that the identities surround themselves with. This gives the impression that everything is fake. I have already discussed the artificial environment of the bowling alley, but there are also things like the ransom, which is also fake. This is fake in multiple ways. First, because it is unclear if there actually has been a kidnapping. Secondly, because the Big Lebowski gives an empty briefcase to the Dude, who assumes that the ransom is in there. It is not even a ransom, but something that pretends to be a ransom. Thirdly, because Walter exchanges the briefcase for a bag with his dirty “undies, the whites.” In other words, he swops a fake ransom for a fake ransom. The gradation of fakeness has become unexplainable. This goes not only for the ransom, but also for the cut-off toe of Bunny, which turns out to be someone else’s toe. A fake ransom, a fake kidnapping, a cut-off toe from someone else. Everything is fake. What can be trusted in the world of The Big Lebowski? The unreal, which normally would be disposed of, shapes their acts. It is the undesignated world in which the cliché does not function anymore. According to Walter, the kidnappers are amateurs. Apparently, there is a distinction between the amateur and the professional. In the case of the professional, you know that it is real and that you should approach him or

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her in a serious way. This is not the case with the amateur. Their credo, “we believe in nothing,” is, however, only partially correct. They do believe in kidnapping. Their role in society does not seem appropriate, and besides that we can question whose role is. Uli Cunckol, leader of the nihilists, is not only a kidnapper, but also lazy and the famous porn star Karl Hungus. Despite the fact that Uli believes in nothing, he participates in the world of porn in order to make an impression and to create an admirable and even desirable image of a porn star. Even if he believes in nothing, his viewers believe in him and his act. The fake identities cannot be isolated. Everyone is looking for a companion. There is always some sort of apparently needed camaraderie. We can see this with the nihilists, who all believe in nothing, which creates a special kind of bonding. We see this with the Dude, Walter, and Donny, who are united through bowling. And we also see it with the Big Lebowski, his butler Brandt, and, to a lesser extent, his wife Bunny. She, on the other hand, joins the porn clique surrounding Jackie Treehorn. He, on his part, has guys who like to be his friends and handle dirty affairs for him. We can see it with Jesus Quintana and his bowling buddy Liam, and we can see it with Maude Lebowski and her arty friends, like Knox Harrington the video-artist. Nobody wants to be all alone by him- or herself. Everyone is looking for companionship, even if it is not always the companionship they would like to have. There is a constant need for colleagues or like-minded people. As mentioned, the Big Lebowski is also a fake. This is an illusion that is however accepted by his intimate friends as well as the outside world. Nevertheless, at the end of the film he is unmasked. Walter takes charge of this, as he is certain to understand the situation again. He concludes that not only is the Big Lebowski’s success is fake, but also the fact that he is handicapped. He refers to him as: “a phony goldbrickin’ ass.” He is convinced that the wheelchair is part of the act and therefore drags him out of it and forces him to walk. Unfortunately, the Big Lebowski is really disabled and drops to the floor, on a similar rug like the one from the Dude’s apartment. Walter’s analysis and corresponding plan turn out to be wrong again. Apparently, the appearance contains something real. Again, the rug plays an important part. Its appearance the second time around creates a circle. This circle is not round per se, but represents some sort of repetition. This repetition is not identical, but visualizes some sort of an alternative reality. This is a reality in which no goals are achieved, but in which apparently meaningless artifacts, like a rug, have a meaning and ignite change. It seems like a purposeless activity.

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How is the Dude acting in this? He does not try to be someone else. He also does not pretend to understand what is going on, or what should be done. He is not interested in the myth of success. What does he do? Despite the continuous consuming of White Russians, he informs us, at the end of the film, about the way he maintains his psychic condition. Without any scruples, he states: fortunately I’m adhering to a strict drug regimen, to keep my mind limber

Going through life intoxicated is his secret. The only surprising thing about this is that he is the only one with a clear vision. In the end, he is the one that makes a difference. In chapter two, we have seen a comparable situation with Da Mayor in Do the Right Thing. This is something that seems to belong to the character of the nomad. What does this mean for our acting in organization? Can we draw some clear conclusions out of this and is there a lesson at the moment we are intoxicated ourselves? Maybe solid conclusions are not meant to be drawn out of this, but this deviating opinion on clear vision judged just the way it is? As mentioned, it is not about solid facts, but about fluid concepts. In this perspective, we also have to consider the monologue at the end of the film. The cowboy from the beginning muses: I guess that’s the way the whole darn human comedy keeps perpetuating itself down through the generations westward the wagons across the sands of time, until we … well, look at me, I’m ramblin’ again ….

Again he loses his train of thought. The ramblin’ of the cowboy is typical for the maintenance of the everlasting comedy in which we are all caughtup. An endless and senseless repetition, which we assume could lead to something, just like our striving for progress, which the cowboy compares to the westbound journey. We push ourselves forward to some kind of goal, and if this does not go any further, because of surprising, unexpected, and unpredictable barriers, we keep on spinning in circles aimlessly. Circles of which the repetitions are never identical.

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4.3 The Appearance of Organization This visual reading of The Big Lebowski shows a different world to the one displayed in the annual reports. It shows that the cliché-like opinion on organization is inadequate. This means that there are various other perspectives from which we can look at organizations. This diversity makes choices insurmountable. If no choices are made, this results in an incomprehensible maze of appearances. This is because thinking about organization is never-ending. Arguing from the presented thoughts on film, it can be claimed that there will never be a definite and clear-cut image. Simplicity and transparency are useless. Still, this is what the annual reports offer us. This unambiguous image therefore needs to be critiqued and thus alternatives or counterarguments are needed. The job. It holds you. It’s all around you; a constant enclosing, absorbing gel. And when you’re in the job, you look at life through that distorted lens.

Above is another citation from the book Filth (1999) by Scottish author Irvine Welsh. Again, it gives an unorthodox image of organization. It deviates considerably from the positive, goal-oriented and clean world of organizations as described in annual-reports. It is the image of a daily banality, as sketched in chapter one. That there are different images of organizations is not new. This is a conclusion drawn by Gareth Morgan (1986). Morgan also disputes the simplistic and rational treatment and offers a multi-perspective approach on organizations as an alternative. However, the image described by Welsh, or the image as pictured by Clerks, is absent in Morgan’s world. His images assume a knowable and mouldable world that can be directed in a preferred direction, and in which a happy end is at hand. This doesn’t deny the qualities or value of Morgan’s metaphors. The thing is that it is the other images that are interesting and which should be investigated. These other deviating images are the ones connected to the thinking about film. It is the world of the daily banality in which the unpredictable, the unexplainable, the incomprehensible, and all those things that apparently do not belong in the picture play a relevant part. “Indiscernibility, inexplicability, undecidability and incompossibility all represent values associated with this power” (Rodowick 1997, 137). This creates a new potency that isn’t diminished to tautologies or identities. It is a world that cannot be captured in simplicity or unambiguity. It isn’t shaped by clichés. It is about difference in repetition. It is about searching

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for new images of organization with the help of Deleuze’s thinking about the cliché. In the annual reports we have seen the dominance of clichés. We have also seen this with the thoughts on bullying. Organization is sensitive to clichés. Apparently, the daily banality creates room for characters like Walter who scream relentlessly that they really know what is going on. The desire for simplicity is supposedly so big that the arguments propagating this are embraced willingly. Thinking seems out of place and often doesn’t fit the time schedule, because some acting should be done. It is all in the line of, “the way things are done” (Salin 2003, 1215). This script for acting offers a certain clearness and maybe even some sort of rest. It is comparable to, “that’s the way we do things around here” (Watson 2001). It becomes some sort of informal slogan, which can be used at random without thinking about it, or needing an explanation. Everyone knows what it means, even if it means nothing. It is these empty cliché-like slogans that shape organization. This can be described as some sort of unwritten law that claims its place in the organizational discourse as a form of common sense. Whether or not sense should be common is probably besides the question. What can be argued is that the common sense, according to Deleuze, should be regarded as cliché: thinking will always have to struggle with the abstractions that common sense imposes on us. (Spoelstra 2007, 5)

The “common sense” is seen as an abstract social reality in which we are immersed. It can be argued that organizations can be seen as a social reality, and that the limitation as imposed by common sense is our perception. We create a frame that we use for our perception. Within that frame we perceive what we want to perceive. In this way, perception blinds us. Spoelstra states: “Common sense is abstracted from social reality. This is the paradox of common sense: common sense is abstracted from the social reality it creates” (2007, 17). In other words, common sense creates the perception, and the use and legitimation of clichés. Common sense has no legitimation other than itself. Walter Sobchak’s remarks on simplicity, from the introduction of this chapter, can be explained exactly in this way. The plan is beautiful because it is simple, and a simple plan fits our perception from which we have extinguished the daily banality. Besides common sense, Deleuze (2004) names good sense. This can be described as: “Common sense: that is what everyone who can navigate

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their way through life with a minimum of success possesses. To have common sense is to be able to recognize what is obvious … Good sense: that is what everyone with good intuitions has. To have good sense is to know one’s way around what is there” (May 2005, 76). Both help us with stability and direction in life. With the help of common sense and good sense we know how to act in a situation in advance. This means that common sense and good sense shape the world of the cliché. “Good sense and common sense converge in providing stability to thought” (Ibid., 77). They provide certainties and designate a possible route. A world without good sense and common sense would probably be intractable. Common sense can be regarded as what everybody thinks, the communal, while good sense decides what I think by myself, within fixed and limited categories. It helps in making a “good” choice. Deleuze argues that good sense and common sense acknowledge only a cliché-like world. They deny contradictions. They are based on a oneway street, and thus expel the paradox. Deleuze argues: “good sense affirms that in all things there is a determinable sense or direction (sens); but paradox is the affirmation of both senses or directions at the same time” (Deleuze 2004, 3). There are always two directions instead of one. It is always a continuous state of becoming. In the world of Walter Sobchak, there is, however, only the one-way street. It is this purposiveness that limits his acting and in which he wriggles with the world. As the world always moves in two directions and his purposiveness is an illusion he gets stuck in his own plans. This is what the film has revealed to us. The two ways demand the strolling of the Dude. They demand the nomad who searches for his way while strolling. They take care of the fact that with the dogmatic and limited thinking, the cliché becomes obsolete. Deleuze states: “The dogmatic image of thought, which is our thought, judges by means of common sense and good sense” (May 2005, 77, italics in original). We are stuck within the limitations of our thinking, which results in our not thinking anymore. This is caused by the denial of various directions, the denial of the paradox. “Paradox is initially that which destroys good sense as the only direction, but it is also that which destroys common sense as the assignation of fixed identities” (Deleuze 2004, 5). We can deny the paradox, but that doesn’t make it disappear. We have seen this in the dispersed situations as shown in film, and which deviate from the cliché-like world as shown in annual reports. It is understandable that this cliché-like world of common sense is dominant. In an organization we would like everyone to have the same image. From the moment we start to question this image, for instance through debating it, the image gets blurred. The transparency vanishes. In

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the annual reports we have seen that the organization wants to go in only one direction. Therefore, the paradox is traded in for common sense. “Common sense denies the existence of paradoxes …” (Ten Bos, Jones, and Parker 2006, 216). This results in the world being partitioned by objects with a fixed place. We know what awaits us, or what will be on our path. It becomes “a neutral zone without differences and activities—a place where equality is created …” (Ibid. 2006, 216). This also has implications for ideas on management, which: “is therefore neither contemplative nor active, because the paradox denies insecurity. It preferably looks ahead, and is always keen on future compensation” (216– 17). It denies insecurities and impotence. There is no room for thinking or for a standstill. There should be movement. This movement knows only one direction, namely the one agreed upon in the annual reports. This simplification of reality, which has been described as a cliché-like reality, denies complexity. It is the tree instead of the rhizome. Apparently, there is a craving for insights and clarity, and it is for this reason that we cannot avoid simplification. By cutting away parts of reality, we shape a part of the world of organization in a frame. Then we reduce and freeze this frame. Furthermore, we will decide what we include in the frame or exclude from it, the saturation and rarefaction, as argued by Deleuze (1989; 1986). This means that thinking is framed and frozen, as we have seen in the example of Walter Sobchak. Thinking outside of the bounds of the simple or the common is disturbing and undesirable. It makes it too complicated and disrupts the “beauty” of organization. This brings us back to our statement to bring thinking back into organization. Does this imply that thinking makes organization “ugly?” Beautiful or ugly are perhaps not the qualifications needed here. It is about creating images that bring back thinking in organization. With the help of film images and relevant literature, I will investigate in what way there are connections to our thinking about organization. Firstly, I will consider the film Office Space, which gives us a deviating image of organization. When I say deviating, this is meant in relation to the image as presented in the annual reports. In Office Space the any-space-whatever, the undefined time, and the undefined identity are centralized.

4.4 Office Space They showed him his desk, each desk was partitioned off from the other by these high whiteglass wall-like cliffs. You couldn’t see through the glass. And behind your desk was a whiteglass door, closed. And by pressing a button, a shot of glass closed in right in front of your desk and you were all alone. You could lay a secretary in there and nobody would know a damn

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Chapter Four thing. One of the secretaries had smiled at him. God, what a body! All that flesh, wobbling and trussed-in and just aching to be fucked, and then the smile … what a medieval torture. (Bukowski 1967, 94)

In the above citation, American writer Charles Bukowski describes his presence in his own office-prison. In this space, he is expected to write. However, for him creativity is the opposite of imprisonment. His thoughts wander off to the secretary and his excited imagination goes astray. Feelings of lust haven’t deserted him and are apparently not hampered by his imprisonment. The film Office Space (1999) from director Mike Judge shows a comparable situation. Space and boredom are pivotal here as well. Before Office Space, Mike Judge had already made a name for himself with the cartoon-sitcom Beavis & Butthead. The sitcom shows two teenage boys who spend most of their time sitting on a sofa watching music videos and commenting on them. The sofa stands in an otherwise bare living room, and it is unclear who owns the space. A neglected and deserted space apparently creates neglected people. In Office Space we see an office and the people working there. The office is an uninspiring space without identity and in which the color grey is dominant. The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit (1955) from Sloan Wilson’s book has apparently entered a grey and meaningless space. The film opens with images of people stuck in a traffic jam. We get the impression that they are on their way to work. Protagonist Peter is sitting behind the wheel of his car with a hopeless and bored face. While waiting in the traffic jam he is passed by a senior citizen with a walking frame. Immediately, this opening scene confronts us with three questions: what does the traffic jam mean for the person stuck in it? Is the common notion correct that it is an annoying activity, or is it maybe something else? We can argue that standing still offers room to think. Simultaneously, we are confronted with a disturbance of movement. The car supposedly offers fast movement, however, in reality, it doesn’t. The reaching of a pre-planned goal is hampered. The tempo is decreased. This shows that it is apparently more difficult to bridge a gap than we would probably want it to be. Planning is a risky business. This invites us to think about being stuck in a traffic jam. We can regard it as a rupture between two moments in time, like an irrational cut, which offers a moment of creativity. A moment which can make us think. This thinking can inform us that being stuck in a traffic jam maybe implies a moment of rest and contemplation. We can interpret it as a possibility for authentic boredom. This is something I will go into more deeply later on in this chapter.

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Let’s have a look at the second question. This is about the senior citizen with his walking-frame overtaking Peter’s traffic-jammed car. What does this tell us about corporeality and technological progress? The assumed image is that Peter would go faster in his car than the senior citizen. This doesn’t happen, however. The senior citizen’s tempo, who needs a walking-frame to move anyhow, is faster than that of Peter with his theoretically faster car. Technology, which is becoming more and more advanced, doesn’t result in our moving faster. We see how Deleuze’s remark (1989; 1986) that time is out of joint is visualized. This is deviant from a logical evolution. Progress means decline in this matter. The third question is related to Peter’s bored gaze. What is specific about this gaze? When we look at Peter in his car, or when he is at work, or even when he is at home, we see the same identical gaze. The boredom and nausea are not only limited to the traffic jam, or his work, but are continuous and everywhere in his world. The film shows that not only work itself is torture, but that this torture starts on the way to work. This not only implies that the boundaries have disappeared but that the arisen innerworld is one of boredom and nausea. Peter’s office is a big space filled with cubicles. It is a comparable space to the one in which Mr Hulot gets stuck in Playtime. Everyone has his own cubicle, his own individual space. Its characteristics are opposite to those of glass. Through glass you can see, but cannot hear. In the cubicle you can hear everything, but cannot see anything. Just like his colleagues, Peter has his own cubicle. In this he has to perform his job, which he considers pointless. He is losing his mind and questions the sense of what he is doing, but especially how everyone can accept this situation. At a certain point he states: Human beings were not meant to sit in little cubicles staring at computers screens all day filling out useless forms and listening to eight different bosses drone on about mission statements.

Peter is someone who adapts to the rules of the firm and the vagaries of managers and colleagues. However, for him the work situation doesn’t make any sense—it is pointless and unsatisfying. This takes sticking to the rules into a zone of tension. The cubicle in which he works emphasizes this. The partitioned-off shack, which is his space and in which he can perform his job undisturbed, is typical for the chaos and dissatisfaction. The cubicle, which is apparently meant to create structure in a big space,

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unintendedly creates chaos, disorder, and dullness. The senselessness of work is internalized in the cubicle. The chaos generated by the cubicle arises because anybody can walk in there randomly, unannounced and unseen. Although it implicates privacy, its effects are the opposite. Peter is constantly disturbed while working by people who walk in. This situation is amplified by the fact that his sight is limited to what is going on inside the cubicle. He cannot look outside. Instead, he hears everything that happens outside of his cubicle, including the continuous telephone talk of the receptionist or his neighbor’s radio. It is chaos that he can do nothing about, as a receptionist should be able to do her job, and concerning the radio official agreements have been made. Being able to hear, but not being able to see, gives him an unsettling feeling. He cannot locate the sounds. There is a disturbance of the senses that causes an emotional unbalance. The building and its cubicles reflect the mental and physical prison of its employers. It is comparable to the aforementioned situation of Bukowski. The alienation of their aesthetic experience contributes to them being emotionally out of balance. They do not know anymore how to escape from this situation. In Peter’s case it seems even more complicated, as he is also caught in a cubicle in his private situation at home. Apparently, there is no boundary between work and leisure for him. This is visualized the moment he arrives home. We see that he has constructed a cubicle in his apartment. But that is not all—his whole apartment basically functions as a cubicle. This becomes obvious when he is sitting on his sofa and hears his next-door neighbor’s voice through the paper-thin walls. The way the neighbor seeks to contact him is identical to the situation in a cubicle. He can hear him, but he cannot see him. Desperately, Peter begs: “Can’t we just pretend to not hear each other,” but his neighbor walks into Peter’s apartment. His private-situation is identical to his work-situation. At home and at work, he knows no privacy. The cubicle is similar to his apartment. His life has become life in a cubicle. In other words, the cubicle has taken him prisoner. Together with his neighbor, he discusses their experiences and their views on life. They ask what they would do if they had a million dollars. Peter is very clear in his answer: Nothing … I would relax I would sit on my ass all day I would do nothing.

To which his neighbor states: “You don’t need a million dollars to do nothing.” Apparently, the obstruction of a million dollars can be

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overcome. One way or the other it is apparently possible to do nothing. The idea that work should give meaning to their lives or should make sense in some sort of way is a misconception. When Peter has had the opportunity of doing nothing, later on in the film, he contentedly explains his experience: I did nothing … I did absolutely nothing and it was everything that I thought it could be.

Doing nothing is what he really wants to do, although he doesn’t realize this at first. The relation he has with his girlfriend isn’t very satisfactory either. There is no emotional connection, only one of habit. It consists of repeating rituals that lack any form of surprise or excitement. It is the repetition of the identical. They both feel that this is not the relationship as they had imagined it beforehand. Besides that, Peter suspects his girlfriend of cheating on him, something which turns out to be true. However, before he discovers this, both of them go to a couples counselor, something that was her idea. The counselor asks him about his work and life. Without hesitation he answers: Ever since I started working every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it so that means that every single day that you see me, that one is the worst day of my life.

He asks the perplexed counselor if he can help him, maybe by giving him the feeling that he is fishing when he is actually at work. The therapist looks puzzled and mumbles that he has an idea. He hypnotizes Peter. However, at the moment when Peter is brought under hypnosis, the therapist drops to the floor, dead. He dies on a similar rug as in The Big Lebowski. For the rest of the film, we do not see Peter come out of his hypnosis. This makes it unclear whether Peter’s behavior in the rest of the film is or isn’t caused by the hypnosis. From the moment of hypnosis, Peter’s behavior changes drastically. He doesn’t react to the alarm clock or the telephone in the morning, and just stays in bed until he doesn’t feel like it anymore. He breaks up with his fiancée, and doesn’t show up for work anymore. The only exception is when he feels like working. However, he doesn’t engage in any workrelated rituals anymore. Furthermore, he has stopped using his cubicle for work. He only uses it for hanging around without any aim whatsoever.

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At the same time, the organization is going through a process of reorganization that should result in more efficiency. This effect should be achieved by downsizing, by reducing the staff. In order to reach this effect, two consultants are hired. Their job is to interrogate every employee and figure out each one’s contribution to the organization. Peter is interrogated as well, and as he has nothing better to do he participates. During this interrogation he makes it clear that work is not a real priority for him and that he prefers doing nothing: Well, I generally come in at least 15 minutes late I use the side-door, that way Lumbergh [his manager] can’t see me and after that I’m gonna space out for about an hour Space out? [asks the consultant] Yeah, I just stare at my desk, But it looks like I’m working I do that for probably an hour after lunch too I’d say in a given week I probably Only do 15 minutes of real actual work.

What he describes is the situation before his hypnosis. Something which he wouldn’t have admitted before. However, after the hypnosis he doesn’t have to pretend anymore. The consultants are impressed and offer him a promotion. They are more impressed by not working than by working. In this case, striving for efficiency implicates no more working. For Peter, this means that he has escaped from his cubicle prison. Not by working hard, doing the best he can and adapting to carefully formulated mission statements all for the well-being of the organization, but by doing exactly the opposite. He has become indifferent. He has become a nomad. He has started dwelling. His colleagues who have kept on working hard and stuck to company policies are all fired Peter feels good in his new role and takes the next step to freedom. He demolishes his cubicle. He loosens the screws of the walls of the cubicle, upon which they collapse. Peter can now look out of the window again. He has regained his freedom. Not only his mental freedom, but also his visual freedom. His colleagues look at him and are clearly devastated, but also appear to be impressed. However, nobody dares to do the same thing that Peter did. Someone who cannot gain his freedom in a similar way is his colleague Milton. He also has a stubborn relationship with his cubicle. But that is not the only problem. One way or the other, Peter seems to belong to the organization, whereas Milton just doesn’t. He is a weird character in

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the world of Office Space, but probably in any other world as well. That is at the same time the reason he belongs there, although the organization has second thoughts about this. They made him redundant a few years ago. What complicates the matter is that they haven’t informed him of this and continue paying his salary. Milton has no notion of his redundancy and therefore there is no reason for him to stop working. The only problem is that he still has a space for work, while there should basically be none. He nevertheless occupies a cubicle. This has a negative impact on the churn, as discussed in the previous chapter. They try to solve the situation by constantly limiting the available space within his cubicle. Milton is pushed more and more into a corner and outside the visibility of the rest of the organization. At a certain point he has to share his cubicle with a couple of cardboard boxes. The next step is that he is asked to put his desk as far as possible towards the back wall of the cubicle. This creates more space for stacking cardboard boxes. Milton moves more and more out of sight. As he isn’t visible anymore, he vanishes symbolically and therefore they do not have to react to his redundancy. He is out of the picture. However, the consultants are pushing for a final solution. They have stopped paying his wages. In this way, Milton will find out by himself that he is redundant, and will hopefully conclude that he has to leave. When being asked if they have informed him of this, the consultants respond: We always like to avoid confrontations, whenever possible.

In the end, Milton loses his cubicle. He obtains a new place in the cellar. Here he is asked to deal with the cockroach problem. The humiliation of Milton reaches its climax. He has threatened to burn down the officebuilding on numerous occasions. As nobody ever listens to him, this threat isn’t taken seriously. For Milton, taking away his cubicle is like taking away his life. Still he waits for the execution of his threat. The boiling point is reached when they take away Milton’s fire-red stapler, his Swingline. This is the limit, and now he is ready to execute his threat. At the end of the film we see the burning office building. Milton has kept his promise. As nobody listens to him, they do not recognize him as the culprit. The hated building is gone and everyone is more or less free. The imprisonment through the building and the cubicle is over. Temporarily, anyway. What can we conclude after seeing Office Space? The first thing that comes to mind is that time is out of joint. Peter shows this by neglecting the clock time, and the alarm clock. The movie acknowledges the ideas of

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Deleuze that there is no sequential evolution. Referring back to Jacques Tati’s Playtime, we can conclude that Tati’s warning has become a reality. Tati’s film has probably been overlooked, misunderstood, or just neglected. The 35 years between the films have obviously not resulted in any educational moments. In the previous chapter I discussed the example of the Larkin Building, and concluded that organizations do not learn any lessons from architecture and its development. Apparently, organizations have no learning capabilities. This is comparable to the “catastrophedidactics” of Peter Sloterdijk (1989). He claims that we do not learn anything from disasters. The only disaster from which we can learn anything is the disaster that no-one survives. The 35-year time-lapse cannot really be called a disaster, but it does make clear that it is impossible to break out of the mould or to welcome what can be learned. The imprisonment in clichés prevents this. Indeed, time is something that cannot be steered into a certain direction. It steers us. Let us return to the three questions as they are formulated in the introduction. What is the cliché that is abolished? How does this make us think? How does this affect organization? The cliché that is abolished is: “if you work hard for the organization and try to achieve its goals, you’ll be successful in the end.” The film shows us that this idea, just like the means-ends rationality, does not work. We witness how the person who doesn’t adhere to any rules, and does no real work whatsoever, gets promoted, as opposed to his colleagues who do their best and adhere to the rules. This is contrary to ideas on the management of human resources as they were described in the introduction. In these, staff are considered a means in order to achieve a goal in organization. The film also problematizes the relevance of the goal. It remains perfectly unclear what the intentions are. The organization claims to strive for efficiency, but champions the one who does not work. The attribution to the organization seems completely irrelevant. We can conclude that this is a good reason to make us think. We are confronted with a situation that is unusual and in which our script for acting is insufficient. As mentioned, this is a situation that deviates from the thoughts as laid out in the annual reports. Furthermore, we might wonder if what we have seen can be considered a method or a rule? From our thinking about clichés, we can conclude that this should not be the case, because this would implicate a new mould, or a new cliché. No, the idea is that it should contribute to a concept that can be helpful in our thinking about organization. In the introduction we claimed that organization needs new concepts to think about organization, but that these concepts should not be moulded into clichés. Concepts should enable

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new ways of thinking: “the concept is an act of thought operating at infinite (although greater or lesser) speed” (Deleuze and Guattari 1994, 21). This infinite speed implicates that the concept is not obstructed by time or place. The concept makes thinking possible and needs thinking to remain a concept. Thinking should keep it in movement. At the moment when thinking ends and the concept is transformed into a cliché, it can be considered an anti-concept. The concept which is most relevant here is the concept of boredom. It is a concept that I have not seen this way when thinking about organization. It supplies us with a new image of organization as opposed to the ones described in the annual reports. The ideas on transparency and cooperation gain new and different meanings. Let us have a look at this concept of boredom.

Boredom All the misery of mankind comes from the fact that no-one is able to stay quietly in his own room.

This citation from Blaise Pascal starts off Peter Sloterdijk’s lecture “Inspiration” (2005b). In this lecture, the German philosopher is searching for the fundamentals of architecture. These deal with the idea that the basic condition of man is boredom. The first man, the savannah ape, was bored for 22 hours a day. The remaining two hours were spent hunting, eating, and mating. The species should be maintained. The thinking of progress and evolution, or in other words modernity, supplied humans with the idea that they should have a meaningful use of time. Each day should be devoted to this. Sloterdijk names the example of the monk sitting in his cell, and devoting his life to God. The problem is that this spending of time is not always meaningful, because there is a lack of convictions or beliefs. Sloterdijk equals this lack with not having a job. There is no real belief in what we are doing. This absence of a conviction makes the activity pointless for whoever executes it. In other words, working in organizations results in an intense feeling of boredom. However, this boredom is a totally different one than that of the savannah ape. For the latter, boredom was an important part of life, which didn’t involve any commitments or convictions. This is different for the boredom as we have seen in Office Space, the boredom of the cubicle ape. He or she is bored, but should pretend to be busy without any conviction being involved. This boredom causes stress. It is boring. For Peter the complicating factor is that this is not only limited to his work, but also to driving in his car to work, or being in his apartment. In other words, it is

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not restricted to a specific place. The boredom goes further, it is all encompassing. The boundary between work and leisure is absent. The boredom is not, as in the case of the savannah ape, in the Deleuzian “anyspace-whatever.” Therefore, the boredom cannot find space. It doesn’t gain a relevant position. Despite the fact that we cannot position it, it is nevertheless architecture’s task to offer boredom its place. In other words, to offer it space in which we can live. It is architecture’s task to create a space, an any-space-whatever for boredom. This is the boredom of the savannah ape. It is thus about creating the conditions of the savannah. Thinking with Heidegger (1945), we can argue that a place only steps into existence when boredom is made possible. This makes boredom a condition for living. We can even claim that it is synonymous with living. Therefore, houses should be “containers of boredom,” according to Sloterdijk. This opens up the distinction between good and bad architecture. Good architecture enables boredom, which makes living possible, while bad architecture makes boredom impossible—it causes stress. Let us return to the situation of Peter. What does boredom mean for him in relation to living? We have already seen that his boredom is not restricted to one specific place. In the beginning of the film, we see that the cubicle, his car, and his apartment are examples of architecture that cause bad boredom. Living is not possible in this bad architecture. At the moment he gives in to boredom, however, we see these spaces change. It starts in the apartment, in which he stays in bed. The compulsory task of getting up early, commanded by the alarm clock, apparently has a negative effect on his enjoyment of living. We simultaneously see how his next-door neighbor is in his apartment, which indicates that the wall between them, which functioned as a cubicle, has disappeared. At his work, we see drastic measures when he starts to tear down his cubicle. This means that he alters the place so it should enable boredom. The destruction happens deliberately. It has one specific goal and that is to reinstate the condition of the savannah. Being able to see the horizon plays an important part in this. But there is more. Peter’s productivity is also increased by his giving in to boredom. During his conversation with the consultants, he describes the situation prior to that, in which he only did 15 minutes of actual work a week. When we compare this to the two hours of productivity each day of the savannah ape, we notice a serious decrease. This goes from a situation of working 10 hours a week to a situation of almost nothing. This implies two options. The first is to allow yourself to be bored by the rituals of

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work, comparable to Peter’s situation before he was hypnotized. This results in 15 minutes of actual work a week. The second is that you’re allowed to be bored at work. This is the situation of Peter after his hypnosis. This last one increases the chance of working from 15 minutes a week to 10 hours. In order to facilitate this, a cubicle should be a good container of boredom. The cubicle ape should be able to feel at home in it. He should be able to live there. After seeing Office Space we can wonder if the world that is shown in the film is an unrealistic world. In other words, if the world pictured is not much more fictitious than the world we know. What Office Space director Mike Judge shows us, however, is that it is not an exception, but a regular situation. According to the discussed film philosophy, the film shows us the real-reality. We see a world that we cannot perceive anymore. It is a world that escapes our perception. This is where film should play its part, according to Deleuze. “If bankers are killers, schoolchildren prisoners, photographers pimps, if the workers are being screwed by their bosses, this has to be shown, not ‘metaphorized’ …” (1989, 183). This is what film should show us and what Office Space has shown us. This implies that the film has shown organization as it really is, and this dubious situation, this daily banality, makes us think, and that is exactly what it should do. The reason is that the relationship between humanity and the world is broken (Deleuze 1989; Rodowick 1997; Bogue 2003). “It is the world which looks to us like a bad film,” states Deleuze (1989, 171). Is it because the world of Office Space is incomprehensible and unacceptable, or is this the case for our own world and its daily banality? Showing this world makes us think and put us in a position to create space for living through the concept of boredom.

4.5 Identity & Organization We have seen people act in film and we have thought about the spaces in which the acting takes place. But what does this all mean for organization? How do people behave there? To what extent do they immerse themselves in their role? To what extent are they aware of the image they give off? These are questions I want to explore in this part. When discussing The Big Lebowski in the beginning of this chapter I concluded that nobody is who he or she pretends to be. Everyone is someone else. This triggers the question—what are the considerations based on which someone chooses a certain identity? To put it differently— what are the considerations for the construction of our role? According to

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Goffman, we play roles all of the time: “the self is no more than a mere coatrack on which you can hang your various roles” (Ten Bos 2000a, 36; 2000b, 31). How does this work for an individual and what are important considerations? Whatever it is that generates the human want for social contact and companionship, the effect seems to take two forms: a need for an audience before which to try out one’s vaulted selves, and a need for team-mates with whom to enter into collusive intimacies and backstage relaxation. (Goffman 1959, 201)

On the one hand it is about an audience, and on the other about companionship. This last one is something other than friendship. Companionship is friendship you seek because you are condemned to something and, considering the circumstances, try to make the best of it. In our discussion of The Big Lebowski we have seen similarities. The need for an audience, as witnessed with the bowling alley rituals, and the need for colleagues or companions with the Dude, Walter, and Donny. It is not really about friendship, but about not being alone. The basis of this situation is shaped by a mutual interest. It creates a small subculture, because they are somewhat condemned to each other. In The Big Lebowski we have seen the most unlikely combinations occur. Apparently, anything is better than being alone. From bottom to top of the organizational world, work involves people doing the same thing over and over with hardly a moment’s thought. Moreover, it is not just work which is like this, most of social life has the same quality. We pass much of our days, months, lives in activity with other people that requires only a non-reflective involvement in events made familiar by frequent repetition. It is not difficult to get through major parts of the day without giving thought, without paying specific attention to most of what one is doing alone or with others. (Mangham and Overington 1987, 44)

Not wanting to be alone is a continuous repetition of acts in which thinking is superfluous. It is the world we have seen in Office Space. It is the world which annual reports try to create or continue. We would like to believe that what is presented is also what it is supposed to be. “We appear to have a deep-seated desire to be bamboozled by social fabrications” (Ibid., 133). We like to be fooled. It is all part of the game. It is a world that differs drastically from the world presented in annual reports and as real. The positive goal-orientation is absent. On the one hand, this stresses the relevance of the story of the annual reports, and on the other it reveals

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the miserable desire to cling onto something. This clinging does not mean that it offers a feeling of safety. No, the organization creates insecurity and fear: Many of the forms of organizational life are little more than neurotic defenses which individuals use against the chronic anxiety that working in the organization creates. (21)

Organizations create defense systems that should control fear. They should satisfy an urge for safety. This again deviates considerably from the clean and safe world that is sketched in annual reports. This fear can also result in a retreat into one’s own world in a so-called silo (Diamond, Allcorn, and Stein 2004). We can describe this as hiding in an imagined space. It is like looking for a safe haven in the world. The silos supply a sense of trust and ease. They should suppress fear and create some sort of mask of confidence. This should help us to play a role with conviction and in an appropriate way. An example of this can be seen with the colleagues of Peter in Office Space. They shield themselves in order to act in an appropriate way, and to secure their positions in a situation of “downsizing.” Fear can also be caused by verbal aggression, the so-called “bullying” (Salin 2003). The way this works is shown by Walter in The Big Lebowski. His verbal aggression causes people to back down and adjust their opinions. In order to outrun a conflict, this seems to be the safest way. For Walter this is also part of his acting routine and maybe a way to suppress his own fear. His own fear of an unreliable world he is confronted with, and which will probably deteriorate further. He tries to suppress this by his own manifestation of power and self-assuredness. At the moment he starts bullying, there is no turning back. The only option is to increase the intensity until he wins the argument. We have seen that physical violence is Walter’s last option. This physical violence is not unusual in organizations (O’Learry-Kelly, Griffin, and Glew 1996). Here, we again witness a completely deviant image of organizations from those shown in the annual reports. Apparently, the safe world is not so safe after all. The safety in organizations is apparently an illusion.

Das Experiment We have noticed that in organizations there is a dominance of repetition that makes thinking superfluous. Furthermore, there is an atmosphere of fear. How can we shape our identity in this situation and under these circumstances? A specific example of this is the famous Stanford Prison

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experiment from 1971 (Zambardo, 2008), as it is visualized in the film Das Experiment from 2001. Here we can see how and under what conditions identities can be shaped and which factors designate behavior. In the beginning of the film we see a group of volunteers who have agreed to participate in a scientific experiment. Their considerations are diverse, but mainly of an economic nature. After extensive testing on the psychological stability of the volunteers, a group of twenty remains. Ten of them become guards, the other ten become prisoners. Together they will perform this experiment in a feigned prison setting. The idea for them is to play their roles as naturally as possible. Doing this, they will be constantly watched by cameras. The only restriction they have is that physical violence is not allowed. The experiment is made realistic through the use of real prison cells and the outfits of the guards and the prisoners. The prisoners’ heads are shaved and they have to wear white prison uniforms. The guards have to wear blue uniforms, and are given whistles, handcuffs, and billy clubs. The prisoners feel uncomfortable about their outfits, while the guards are excited about theirs. These are the conditions under which they start their daily rituals. We see how the prisoners challenge the authority of the guards. Immediately they start to explore the boundaries of the game. The guards try to shape their roles in a cramped way. They start to emphasize the respect they feel they deserve. This results in the guards losing control of the prisoners. In that moment, one of the guards, who has remained invisible until that moment, steps forward and states: I read in a book once that control can be regained through humiliation.

These words mean two things for the group of guards. The first is that they have to be rough and tough on the prisoners. The second is that they have found a leader, who they only have to follow. This exactly shows the functioning of cliché. The new leader copies a quote from a book—a cliché, in other words—and starts to work with this. In order to convince himself of his new role, he first checks his image in the mirror and drinks alcohol. Apparently, the leader needs his mirror image and haziness. He knows he needs the haziness to get a clear vision. Unfortunately, his vision isn’t so clear. Thinking is absent, as he is merely driven by a copy. This is what we also see in the acting of the other guards. The scientists who have been watching them and listening to their conversations with the help of cameras grow very excited from everything that is going on. To interfere is no longer an option for them. We see that from this moment on the experiment gets completely out of hand, which results in the death of a guard and a prisoner.

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What does this imply for organization? Some things are worth a closer look. We see a deviation from the Foucault-inspired (2001) prison metaphors (Elmer 2003; Regtering and Achterberg 2001; Morgan 1986). These are based on the neutral and programmed behavior of guards, whereas the film shows the obsessiveness of the guards as well as the prisoners. They are literally overwhelmed by their own acting. They lose themselves in their roles. It is an obsessiveness that makes them go beyond boundaries they normally wouldn’t have crossed. This again shows how boundaries slowly disappear, or in other words how the boundary becomes obsolete. From this we can conclude that while acting we can be confronted with the unexpected, or even with what is considered impossible. If we think back to popular organizational processes like self-direction, in which the employee has a decisive influence in the action they take, we see a sharp contrast. This process of self-direction is based on the ideologies of the learning organization (Senge et al. 2001; Senge 1992; Wierdsma 2003; 2002; 1999; De Geus 1999). The idea is that hierarchic management is not really needed, but that direction develops in an organic way between people who are on the same hierarchic level. The experiment in the film also starts off in an atmosphere of equality. No leader or manager is appointed for the guards. Nobody is officially made responsible for the behavior of the rest of the group. This implicates a situation of self-direction. In the world of Das Experiment we however see that an informal leader stands up and is followed by the rest without any criticism. He is, however, not a manager after all. The questions that arise from this are—what would have happened if there had been a manager? Does that mean that the experiment wouldn’t have gotten out of hand? In other words, would a manager have been able to keep things under control? In order to answer these questions we need to look at the way they have created their roles. The guards as well as the prisoners have never played this role before. In other words, they are not real prisoners or guards, but actors trying to simulate these roles. The next question that arises is—how do they get their roles? The leaders of the experiment have given the participants only the bare minimum in terms of directions and corrections. This situation informs us that the actors construct their roles from previous images they have of these specific roles. In other words, we can conclude that they shape their roles based on common and good sense. This is the sense that is shaped through perception, its memory and interpretation. It is the knowledge they have beforehand. It is the common sense and good sense we discussed earlier, and which we concluded are

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like clichés. We notice that the cliché contains danger. It houses an explosive element which will ignite at a time we don’t know. The aforementioned safety of the cliché shows its disturbing side. What we can also question is the idea of common and good sense. Can this sense really be regarded as common or good? The developments in Das Experiment answer this question in the negative. Common turns out to be uncommon and not so good after all. The question that should also be answered is whether the presence of a manager would have changed the course of developments. In other words, does the manager have common and good sense?

Manager Now if it’s a manager, that’s a different story the manager knows better than to fuck around so if you get one that’s givin’ you static he probably thinks he’s a real cowboy, so you gotta break that son of a bitch in two. —Mr White, Reservoir Dogs

The discussion of Das Experiment and the above citation take us to one of the most important actors in organization—the manager. The citation explains that there exists a certain image of the manager, which also informs us on how to deal with it. This expectancy pattern goes for the manager as well as those who encounter the manager. In Das Experiment, he or she is absent. Therefore, we can ask what would have happened if he or she had been able to play their part. Let us therefore look at what can be said about the manager, or what their characteristics are. The philosopher Alisdair MacIntyre (1984) considers the manager to be one of the most important actors of our time (Beadle 2001; ten Bos 2000a; 2000b; Mangham 1995; 1990; 1986). The manager is considered capable of playing a decisive role. However, this role is shaped by some contradicting characteristics. These can especially be found in the ideas that the manager is on the one hand manipulative and on the other powerless. Is this an unsolvable paradox? The idea that the manager is manipulative comes from their urge to comply with various expectancy patterns. This makes them want to push the organization in various directions. Therefore, they have to be able to play a variety of roles. According to MacIntyre this is no problem. They: “can be anything, can assume any role or take any point of view …” (1984, 32). Important in this is that the goals are decided upon by someone else. They do not define their own objectives. They receive them from the outside. This means that

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they do not have to take responsibility for the objectives themselves, but only for the reaching of these goals. This means that a moral obligation is absent. In other words: “Because the manager is a manipulator striving for efficiency and not for personal development of his staff, his friendships are always based on the law and never on morality” (ten Bos, Jones, and Parker 2006, 95). They do not take responsibility for what they do, but for the way in which they do it. They are only doing their job. The manager hides behind their tasks and responsibilities and simultaneously trades in their identity. They place themselves outside of the ethical debate because they claim to be neutral. Besides being manipulative, they are also unethical. As mentioned, their other characteristic is that they are powerless. They pretend to be calling the shots, and to direct, but as a matter of fact are only doing what they think is best, without being able to oversee the consequences. MacIntyre claims that the concept of management is just a fiction. “If the Manager embodies and represents the dominant manipulative mode of our culture, we have to recognize that he/she will not and cannot have very much success in his/her attempts to manipulate. Our organizations, he asserts, are out of our or anyone else’s control” (Mangham 1995; 197). This statement goes beyond the idea that the manager is powerless. He claims that organizations aren’t managed at all, and are thus powerless. Things apparently happen without us knowing how or what is exactly going on, or in what way we could influence or even change this. That this does not immediately have to be a problem follows from the aforementioned conclusion that we have a deep-seated desire to be bamboozled. The question of whether the manager could make a difference can be answered negatively. This is a completely different world than the cliché-like thoughts we have seen in the annual reports. Clichés like the means-endsrationality or the trust in efficiency apparently create a basis for the impossibility of the management of organizations. what we are oppressed by is not power, but impotence; that one key reason why the presidents of large corporations do not, as some radical critics believe, control the United States is that they do not even succeed in controlling their own corporations …. (MacIntyre 1984, 75)

Despite the fact that organizations are uncontrollable phenomena and the fact that the manager is powerless, he or she still tries to give off the appearance of control. They have no choice other than to give off the idea that they know what they are doing and that they will be successful. They are caught in the cliché-like world of organizations. However, this is a world they are expected to maintain. This results in a forcefield of

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generalizations or clichés, and the unpredictability of happiness. According to MacIntyre, this is no “scientifically managed social control, but a skillful dramatic imitation of such control … The most effective manager is the best actor” (1984, 107). Playing the part is all about pretending. We have seen this in the examples of Office Space and The Big Lebowski. The Big Lebowski presents himself as a successful businessman, a role convincing enough for his surroundings. The cliché, if you do the best you can and work hard, you will be successful in the end, seems to be his lifemotto, especially because his life, his body, is in a wheelchair. He uses his clichés to cover up his powerlessness, and does this in an unethical way by trying to manipulate his surroundings. The only one who can uncover him is the nomad, the Dude. The manager uses their cliché-like expectancy patterns to further shape the organization. In this way, the mould becomes clearer and clearer and offers them the correct basis for influence and control. “Our culture creates a stage for the tragic play full of moral phantasies in which the manager plays his or her own part” (ten Bos 2000a, 41). Doing this, they are steered by a desire for instrumental effectivity. Being under the influence of these instruments presupposes the power of the mould. The mould is an instrument that we can use and that should make certain pre-planned effects possible. This results in the manager entering into a cliché-like repertoire of acting that makes thinking impossible. Their acting is caught in the senso-motor scheme that is defined as cliché. In order to achieve the planned results, he or she has to eliminate thought. This simultaneously shapes his or her impotence. It is no surprise that this results in the “Theatre of Illusion,” as mentioned by MacIntyre. As a matter of fact, there is nothing wrong with this. It gets problematic because he or she believes that this is reality. We have seen this in Office Space, where the manager retrieves his only truisms out of meaningless reports, which his staff have to draw up for him and which eventually give the manager the only indication of the output of the organization. The manager is expected to make the difference, willy-nilly. He or she has to create clarity and realize the cliché-like expectancies as they are drawn up in the annual reports. That this is an illusion seems evident. It is not without reason that the manager is described as powerless or impotent. But what does this mean for the acting of the manager? It means that he gets caught in a sandwich-position between top management and staff. He or she will have to negotiate between the various goals and interests. He or she will have to manage the expectancy patterns, and have the characteristics of a chameleon in order to give the illusion of managing the constantly changing situations. Popular thoughts of the organization as a

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family (Schoenmaker 2004; Gabriel 1999) can simplify matters, but simultaneously make them more complex. The manipulative aspect can be a sensitive matter. Still, the manager is a popular actor. Koot and Sabelis (2000) have concluded from their research on the acting of managers that despite the mentioned paradoxes, the manager is a role model for many young people. He or she is like the, “man or woman who ‘has made it,’ and was able to handle tough times, to manage complex problems, to direct a large number of staff, and above all—to secure a generous paycheck” (2000, 90). Apparently, some image of the manager is created, and this is the image we want to perceive. In other words, this implicates that every aspect we do not like is eliminated. An ideal image is created, which functions as a mould and denies the diversity of the role. This means that the cliché is more powerful than the daily banality.

4.6 Dogville Another peculiar example of the shaping of identity is the film Dogville (2003) from Danish director Lars von Trier. Again, the cliché-like transparency or comprehensibility is questioned. This is more or less caused by the fact that this film takes place on a stage without a set. The only layout of the stage consists of white chalk lines drawn on the black floor. These represent houses, gardens, and even pets. The physical structures we would expect and that can secure a certain grip are absent. We see how the actors play their parts on this big black stage that dissolves into a sheer never-ending darkness. It creates an alienating setting, which the viewer has to get accustomed to. This goes for the actors during shooting as well. The alienation is not only caused by the setting, but especially by the fact that the actors pretend that there are real walls, while these are physically absent. This makes watching and listening a surreal visual spectacle. What is furthermore peculiar is that the film takes place in a small, enclosed community. This unusual setting provides us with insights into the construction of identity in this specific situation. The film takes place in a fictional village called Dogville, in which we find a small community shielded from the outside world. The protagonist is Thomas Jefferson, someone with the ambition of becoming a writer. Someone who is able to change the world. At a certain point, someone new enters the village of Dogville. This is Grace, who is on the run from a gang of criminals. She asks Thomas for a place to hide. Thomas guides her through the village and introduces her to the various villagers. Grace looks at Dogville in a fresh and open-minded way. She is oblivious to all the

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inveterate and dominant social patterns and limitations. Grace can still enjoy the beauty of Dogville, something that the inhabitants are no longer capable of. Everyone is really busy with their own activities. Grace offers her help, but everyone claims that they really do not need any help. They all say no, claiming that the others might need help. Problems are supposed to be for others, not for themselves. Being busy makes them the focal point of attention, which allows them to play the role of victims. At the moment they accept help, they lose their victim status. Releasing themselves from their own problems and handing over their work to someone else is therefore not an option. Furthermore, this guarantees their privacy. Who is this stranger who suddenly appears and starts to interfere with their daily rituals? To what extent can they trust this stranger, when they cannot even trust the regular inhabitants? The fear of the unknown, of what comes from the outside, but also of that which is regular, plays a decisive part. We see what takes place in a small, enclosed community and its specific individualized problems. Eventually, they find work for Grace, although this is work that really does not need doing. In this way, Grace’s help is used for pointless activities. Grace does not want to talk about her past, but only about the present situation. For her this is a positive one, but strangely enough not for the villagers of Dogville. They are not capable of seeing things another way. They only see the negative aspects of Dogville. They consider it to be a place in which they are stuck. The only thing that remains are their dreams. These dreams remain dreams. Should they be realized, then their last hopes would be taken away from them. Their only grip, which is the dream, would then disappear. Dreams should remain dreams. The other grip is the tolling of the bell, which directs them through the day. The rational virtual grid of the tolling of the bell apparently offers the motivation to get through the day in a way that seems meaningful to them. It is an enclosed community that doesn’t communicate or interact with its surroundings. What is even more troublesome is that it is an enclosed community that doesn’t communicate or interact with itself. It is fakecommunication and fake-interaction based on clichés. These clichés secure the idea that there apparently is communication and interaction. This appearance-reality creates the useless activities done by Grace. Doing useless activities guarantees that Grace doesn’t become part of the closed community, but that she remains a stranger. She isn’t given a valuable role. Her status of stranger is cherished by the villagers. Apparently, the stranger has to remain strange. Awful lot to do here in Dogville considering nobody needs anything done

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Despite all this, Grace tries to acquire a meaningful role in order to show her gratitude and to abolish her status of stranger. The villagers of Dogville remain reserved. The have to get used to the idea of a stranger in their community with its fixed roles. They know what to expect of each other, which comes down to nothing. This nothing isn’t threatening, but comforting. As they are of no use to each other they will not be disappointed in each other. Grace’s part for them is still not fixed. It suggests change. It suggests breaking through the comforting cliché-like acting patterns. Therefore, new roles have to be investigated first. There should be a time of experimentation. But what does experimentation imply in a situation in which people are of no use to each other? When you are of no use to each other, every form of safety needed for experimentation is absent. This experimentation also contains the chance of failure. As a breakthrough seems to be no option, the cliché-like acting persists. Slowly but certainly, they do find a role for Grace. This is created within the limits of safety within the experiment. Grace slowly gets drawn inside in order to be appointed her role within the community. Drastic changes are too dangerous and can endanger the stability of Dogville. Via an incremental change, she gets hauled inside the perverted community. Slowly but certainly, she receives seemingly useful tasks. She works hard to show her gratitude towards the villagers. She goes beyond her usual boundaries and this makes her agree to things she would normally refuse. The fact that she is in a vulnerable position creates a regime of power for the villagers who are more than willing to abuse this. What looks innocent to Grace at first, and which she accepts in a certain healthy but naive way, takes advantage of her inexorably. Slowly the power creeps upon her and consumes her. The politics of power are used to subjugate Grace, from her position of dependency, to the perverted desires of the inhabitants of Dogville. It starts off with blaming her for everything that goes wrong. She is pushed into the role of scapegoat. Creating a scapegoat can be a risky operation. However, in Grace’s case this is not what happens. Grace is dependent on them and has no other place to go. It is almost like there is a subliminal collective process going on that contains an unwritten law that Grace should be blamed. This is made possible by the carefulness in the acting of the villagers, which guarantees that social relations remain on the surface. Grace is subjected to the perverse desires of the villagers. The absence of architecture creates a painful visibility of the social relations. We see the way in which they are perverted at the moment Grace enters the scene. It is a city under a glass dome, comparable to the dome Buckminster Fuller wanted to place over Manhattan in 1955 (Schrijver

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2005; Frampton 1995). The outside world should remain outside of the glass dome. This is not only an autistic urge, but also one based on power. All the dirt and contagion from the outside world, which can subvert power, has to be stopped. It can be regarded as a hosophobic urge (ten Bos and Kaulingfreks 2001), as we have seen earlier in our discussion on film and architecture. Power shows its mysophobia. This should keep the dream alive, but at the same time keep it a dream. At a certain but inevitable moment, one of the villagers assaults Grace and brutally rapes her. For the viewer these images are extra intense as everything is visible because of the absence of walls. The cruelty of the rape is shown in all its brutality. This was rumored to have been very troubling for the actors themselves. This suggests that some things, in all their cruelty, probably better remain hidden. Visibility is debated. The first rape is the catalyst for the rest of the villagers to assault Grace. A certain boundary is crossed, which means that all ethical values are abolished. It almost gives the impression that there is a manager present. Dogville emerges as a self-directing, unethical, and manipulative team. Grace is like some sort of protected princess, who entered the cold reality of Dogville. She is defenseless and is therefore brutally victimized. The enthusiasm of the villagers for the new one quickly turns into hatred. Their gloomy existence and the cold grimness of their surroundings feed the frustration they vent on Grace. Doing this, the villagers are good and evil simultaneously. Those things which are good are evil at the same time, without it being possible to distinguish one from the other. It always goes in two directions. This makes the film break out of the limitations of cliché and shows the paradoxical nature of reality. It shows the real-reality and abolishes common and good sense. At the end of the film the gangsters from whom Grace is on the run find her, and this gives her the opportunity to take revenge on the villagers of Dogville. Her revenge is even more brutal than the perversities she was subjected to by the villagers. She has become one of them.

4.7 Aesthetics of Organization We have seen other images of organization. Images that question the existing images as presented in annual reports. Images that challenge our common and good sense and classify it as not really common or good. We have seen the strong influence of the aesthetic perception. In the introduction we assembled these thoughts under the denominator “Organization Aesthetics.” This deviated thinking about organization describes a world other than the rational-hygienic and goal-driven. These

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are images that deviate from the mouldable and explainable world of the annual reports. The aesthetics of organization try to describe the capricious unpredictability of organizations. This is a world in which we apparently like to be bamboozled and in which we are doing things without really knowing why. A world of fear, manipulation, and powerlessness. [A]s soon as a human person crosses the virtual or physical threshold of an organization, s/he is purged of corporeality, so that only his or her mind remains. Once a person has crossed this threshold, therefore s/he is stripped both of clothing and body and consists of pure thought, which the organization equips with work instruments and thus reclothes. (Strati 1999, 3)

The above citation from Antonio Strati describes the essence of organization aesthetics. He states that theories about organization are not interested in the body or its senses, but only in the employees’ power to think. This power to think however is only seen as repetitive thinking that turns employees into machines, and machines don’t need organic bodies. This is what organization aesthetics wants to change. Considering the fact that it is not only thinking that is absent in organization but also the body, both need to reclaim their place in organization. The body, or corporeality, is relevant for the sensory experience caused by acting in, but also outside of the organization. Theories about organization aesthetics elaborate on the basic idea that we cannot switch off our senses when we cross the boundary and step into the organization (Strati and Guillet de Monthoux 2002; Strati 2000; 1999; 1996; Linstead and Höpfl 2000a; 2000b, Guillet de Monthoux 2000a; 2000b; Linstead 2000; Höpfl 2000; Carter and Jackson 2000; Gagliardi 1996; 1990a; 1990b; 1990c). We are creatures whose senses are stimulated and this affects our acting. According to the writers, suppressing or neglecting this will have a negative impact on organization. This remark implicates the idea of reversing this repression and starting to learn to use the senses again. This is more complicated than it might appear. We have forgotten how to perceive in an aesthetic way (Lemaire 2002). In other words, we do not know anymore how to use our senses. The thoughts of Deleuze have informed us that we only perceive what we want to perceive. This means that we only perceive clichés. The idea is to re-learn to perceive in an aesthetic way from a non-cliché-like perspective. In other words, to learn again how to see, feel, hear, smell, and taste. This also goes for our aesthetic perception of organization. We have to learn again how to use our senses so we can understand the complete spectrum, including details from what is going on, or what

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happened, in order to shape organization in this way. Nowadays, we are caught in a situation of aesthetic bluntness, which has resulted in aesthetic amnesia (Taylor 2002). This implies that only awareness itself is insufficient. It is more or less a first step. Besides this, we should realize that it is not a question of something extra. “Aesthetics is not just decoration” (Strati 1996, 210). “An aesthetic dimension is present continuously” (Ottensmeyer 1996, 189). In other words, we cannot deny it. However, this first step is relevant in order to enter into a relationship. “The meaning is not so much as contained within things, but appears when we enter into a relationship with it” (Slatman 2003a, 10). Without a relationship it remains hidden for us. What matters is to open our senses to the things around us (Merleau-Ponty 2003). In this, the corporeal relation is important as well (Slatman 2003a; 2003b; Van den Bossche 2003; Tiemersma 1994). I will explore the appearance of the body in the next part. Opening up is also related to our susceptibility to what happens in our surroundings. I have concluded that in the annual reports there is a constant fear of what happens around us. There is a constant struggle for safety from all that seems to threaten us from the outside. This fear hampers the susceptibility or sensitivity to these surroundings, which can be described as empathy. If there is empathy there is also the possibility of no empathy. A minimum or lack of empathy can be described as insensitivity to the surroundings, or surroundings which we cannot comprehend, surroundings which make interaction distorted or absent. This means that we are cut off from our surroundings. This can be regarded as autism. We see that from a certain fear of our surroundings, autism arises. This can also be related to the Zygmunt Bauman idea of “proteophobia” (Linstead 2000). This is a certain unease that can exist in certain situations. We feel lost, confused, or powerless. We do not know how to act anymore, because a script for acting is absent. This insecurity changes into emotional insecurity. This fear can also cause nausea. Organizations try to ban this nausea by hiding the ugly reality hidden in the details (Pelzer 2002). Excluding the ugly does not mean that it disappears. We still perceive it in a certain way, but we are unable to recognize it or know how to deal with it. This causes aesthetic amnesia, which leads to the alienation of employees who can change into: “The disgusting alien (Ibid., 857). An example of this can be seen in the film Brazil (1985) from Terry Gilliam.

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Brazil SUSPICION BREEDS CONFIDENCE DON’T SUSPECT A FRIEND, REPORT HIM HAPPINESS, WE’RE ALL IN IT TOGETHER.

These three advertising messages are distributed by the Ministry of Information. They shape life in the world of Brazil. These jet black messages support the future utopia, which has changed into a dystopia of the most bizarre kind. This is caused by failing technology and an absurd form of bureaucracy. The all-enveloping control generates a certain fear that has penetrated all the pores of society. Director Gilliam claims that this is not just a vision of the future, but that the inspiration came from contemporary everyday life (Ashbrook 2000; Christie 1999; McCabe 1999; Mathews 1987). That which hides under the surface is hidden as carefully as possible, and the cosmetic operations meant to make the world more beautiful and create a generally accepted image of beauty are not only limited to the buildings, but go as far as the faces of the female establishment. The oppressing world designates the world of Brazil. A world in which technology is everywhere and where the gloomy buildings loom high above the actors. Escape is impossible. People literally disappear into the machine of Brazil. There are forms of resistance, but they never go further than a temporary disruption of the technological dominance, which is responsible for the continuous personal and corporeal suffering of the innocent. In order to demonstrate this, Gilliam enlarges this world, or blows it up, to such an extent that it becomes ludicrous. This does not mean, however, that it becomes a mere exaggeration or satire. No, the blow-up visualizes that which we normally would not be able to perceive. This is comparable to the world sketched by Jacques Tati in Playtime. This shows that the only escape available is to laugh at life. Another escape is apparently not available. Protagonist Sam Lowry finds an exception to this when he escapes into a catatonic state. The film shows that despite laughing, a happy end is not an option. We witness criminal behavior in an atmosphere in which nobody feels at ease. We see governmental control based on rules that increase the insecurity of people. It is a world in which everyone is a stranger to each other, but also to themselves. The Ministry of Information, which is dictated by rules, turns out to be chaos beneath the surface. This creates a disruption of rules that results in insurmountable trouble. The film informs

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us that the carrying out of rules as well as the breaking of them can only lead to increased chaos. The idea of Walter Sobchak from The Big Lebowski—that if everybody would stick to the rules, things would turn out fine—doesn’t work in the “real” world. Rules do not function, and the abolishment of rules does not function either. The only certain thing is the omnipresent Ministry, which is supposed to see to the carrying out of the rules. The boundary between the public and private has vanished. Everything has become public. Visibility is complete. In a scene in the postal room of the Ministry, we see a manager standing on a platform overlooking his employees. In this way he tries to enforce power. From his office he cannot look outside and overlook the workers. His panoptical power is limited. When he is on the platform we see his employees performing their tasks the way they should. However, as soon as he steps down, walks into his office and closes the door, everyone immediately stops working and switches their screens to some sort of movie. The fact that they are being watched is their only motivation to pretend to work. When the manager watches them again, they all seem to be focused on their work. It is a bizarre scene, which seems to imply that visible control to ensure that everyone performs their tasks does not work. It seems to suggest that all everyone wants to do is shirk their duties. It suggests that money has to be earned and that to that end work is a necessary nuisance. However, the remark should be made that they do not really work, they just pretend to do so. It is a situation comparable to the one in Office Space, discussed earlier, in which protagonist Peter only works 15 minutes a week. In the case of Brazil this should be no problem at all. Working is pointless, because the rules they have to follow do not function. this huge organization has to survive at all costs, so if there is no real terrorism it has to invent terrorists to maintain itself—that’s what organizations do. (Christie 2000, 131)

The resistance against the world of Brazil appears to be caused by terrorists, although it remains unclear if they are part of the Ministry. The above citation, by Gilliam, suggests the latter. On the one hand there is a fear of the environment, and on the other there seems to be a desire to maintain that fear. It suggests that the grim, dark, desolate, and heartless world has to survive one way or the other. The created fear generates and legitimizes the acting of the Ministry. In this way, fear obtains a function, and the fact that everyone changes into the “disgusting alien” seems to be just a trivial matter. This creates a situation where there seems to be no escape from the terrorist attacks. The inhabitants of Brazil have accepted

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this circumstance. They pay no more attention to the attacks. It seems that they have become immune. The cold world is insensitive to death and destruction and just abides. In the end of the film we see how Sam becomes catatonic. He escapes into his own dreamworld. He looks happy because his life has finally turned into a dream. He has succeeded in mentally escaping the dystopian and bureaucratic machine. At that moment we see a smile appear on his face. The happiness from the quote has become a reality. However, this is a happy end without happiness.

Emotion & Body We have seen that in our thinking about organization aesthetics emotions play an important part. Emotions arise from the sensory perception and then become an aesthetic experience (Strati 2000). This subtle relation is not always recognized but nevertheless relevant. When we start talking about the managing of emotions it is important to understand where these emotions come from—in other words, what causes them. When discussing the management of emotion there is often a reference to the notion of emotional intelligence (Goleman 2001; 1998; 1996). To what extent emotions can or should be intelligent or to what extent this intelligence can be measured remains a question. What can also be questioned is in what way this indication should be appreciated. We can claim that it only leads to a cliché-like treatment of emotions. Therefore, the rational measurement of the irrationality of emotions seems a pointless exercise (Fineman 2004; 2000; 1996; 1993). An additional problem is that organization and emotion are at odds. Emotions have a negative image (Putnam and Mumby 1993). They are considered as uninvited guests in organizations. This ruling out of emotions can also be seen in the role of the manager. He or she should be stable and insensitive to emotions. He or she should stand firm with an iron self-discipline (Flam 1993). He or she shouldn’t be hindered by emotion when realizing the means-ends rationality of the organization, as described in the annual reports. A danger is caused by the so-called “nostophobia,” in which the past is idolized and the future demonized (Gabriel 1993). This can have a considerable impact on emotions, and as mentioned this isn’t the intention in organization. It should remain objective, and that implies no emotions. The world we experience and that feeds cliché should not be disturbed. In order to prevent these emotional disturbances the senses should not be excited excessively. This requires a monomorphous surrounding instead of

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an eclectic one (Wasserman, Rafaeli, and Kluger 2000). The monomorphous creates rest and thus prevents unrest. This is accompanied by a desire for hygiene as discussed in the previous chapter on architecture. Returning to Strati’s citation, we notice how the body plays a crucial part. A part that is largely underestimated, or even neglected. It is difficult to deny that the physical manifestation influences our acting. The actor shows their physical appearance as well as their mental state. The return of the psychophysical unity (Fischer-Lichte 1997) plays an important part in our thinking about organization aesthetics. The part the body plays is twofold. On the one hand it deals with the role it plays in organization, and on the other it deals with the impact on the body caused by organization. This requires further research according to Hassard, Holliday, and Willmott (2000b). When we think again about the means-ends rationality as presented in the annual reports, memories of the work of Frederick Taylor (1911) start looming. His scientific management has been very influential in the contemporary cliché-like ideas on organization. This raises the question of whether Taylor’s work contains a cliché-like perspective. Taylor also acknowledges an important role for the body that has been denied so far. According to him, the physical size of the manager is decisive in him or her having authority or not (Bahnisch 2000). The outer bodily features like height designate whether a manager is successful or not. “Taylor desired to be one meter eighty, in order to gain respect through his bodily appearance and to constrain discipline through manly fisticuffs in the garden” (Bahnisch 2000, 53). This implies that the body was at the basis of our thinking about organization. However, somewhere along the line this disappeared, because we were apparently not able to perceive this anymore. This shows the shortcoming of the durability of cliché-like images. Referring to this as common sense seems uncommon. Let us return to The Big Lebowski and find out in what way the body plays a part in this. We have noticed the example of the Big Lebowski himself who, sitting in his wheelchair, claims to be a success despite his bodily handicap. He states: “I didn’t blame anyone for the loss of my legs, but I went out and achieved anyway.” According to him, his body is not a necessity to be successful in organization. Simultaneously, he displays the opposite when he is uncovered as a fraud, or as mentioned in the film a “goldbricker.” Despite his claim, the real success is absent. Maybe this would have been different should he have been able to use his body. However, it remains difficult to claim that the body plays a decisive role, as well as claiming that it doesn’t. There is an influence that cannot be restricted to a cliché-like expectancy pattern.

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Another example is the way in which Walter uses his body. We see how he literally pumps up his body before he starts using verbal aggression. Obviously, bullying needs a corporeal display. Furthermore, we witness how Maude Lebowski uses her naked body in order to make art. We see how Bunny Lebowski uses her luscious body to make money. The opposite is shown by the Dude. His corporeality seems irrelevant. He doesn’t appear to be interested in his body. Obviously it is present, and he uses it when he needs to. However, it doesn’t seem to play a meaningful or decisive part. He apparently uses it in a subliminal way. It is of use when bowling, and occasionally he treats it to a peaceful bath. When his body is in danger, for instance when the kidnappers threaten to cut off his penis, he starts to revolt. “I don’t want sympathy, I want my fuckin’ Johnson,” he yells. He does not want sympathy. He does not want emotion. He wants his penis. He wants his body. He does not want to dispose of it or any of its functions. He does not want to use it in a teleological way. He wants it to dwell.

4.8 Conclusions In this fourth chapter I have discussed the aspects of organization fused with the thoughts of Deleuze on film. In a discussion of The Big Lebowski, I have argued that the actors shape their identities in a situation that is incomprehensible for them, and where their regular script for acting falls short. This results in a continuous shaping of identities in a situation that is constantly changing. This causes insecurity. It is never really clear what will happen or how they should behave. Therefore, teleology is an illusion. The only remedy seems to be dwelling in the game of their reality. Connected to this is the fact that everyone is not what they pretend to be. Their identities, the way they appear, are considered to be unfit, which triggers them to search for other identities. They basically want to be somebody else. This is what the film shows us. There is a constant search for an identity from which they believe a better impression can be given off in certain situations. A typical example is Walter Sobchak, who acts with the help of his impressive body and bullying. This enables him to overwhelm others in a physical and verbal way, and thus get what he thinks he wants. He is aware of his surroundings and knows what he has to do manipulate this. However, this does not mean that he really gets what he wants. In no way is the result of his acting favorable or even desirable for him. No. Just like the rest, he keeps on acting insecurely and is often driven by fear. An exception is the Dude. He appears to be unaware of his surroundings and

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keeps on doing what he always has been doing in an undisturbed and indifferent way. The kidnapping seems to disrupt this, but in the end this results in only a small deviation, and his acting seems to be intended to return to his state of indifference. This shows that there is a difference between the impression we want to give and what we actually give off. Our intention can be different from the actual result. This increases our desire for security. It is an important reason to cling to clichés. Clichés should enlarge the security, and thus diminish the insecurity. This further shapes the cliché-like surroundings. A better mould is created. The remaining problem, however, is that the surroundings are still unpredictable. Therefore, the feeling of security doesn’t grow, but lessens. The remedy for fear increases the insecurity. This paradoxical situation puts pressure on our cliché-like acting. The fear increases. In this way, the teleological tendency undermines itself. In other words, we choose an aim, but know this is not for real, or that it really does not matter. This shouldn’t be a big problem in itself, as we have concluded that we like to be bamboozled. In the film Office Space we have seen that there is another element, namely imprisonment. The characters in that film are stuck in a certain world. We have witnessed how the protagonist escaped from this situation and indulged in the basic condition of man, as described by Sloterdijk, which is boredom. I have concluded that boredom has a negative connotation in organization. The film, however, shows the opposite, and in this way breaks through the cliché. The protagonist does this by destroying his cubicle, or in other words his container of boredom. He imitates savannah conditions. This enables him to indulge in boredom again. It is a similar movement as witnessed by the Dude. We can refer to this as characteristic of the nomad. We have seen that the nomad in organization makes a positive impression and is also able to make a difference. We have also witnessed the concept of imprisonment in films like Das Experiment, Dogville, and Brazil. We have seen actors who were stuck between worlds in which they were trying to create an identity. Escape from the daily banality was only possible through bloodshed. Film has shown us the paradoxical character of reality. We have seen that teleology is an impossibility. This can be explained by the fact that we are in a constant state of becoming. This means that our reality does not move in one direction, but that it moves in various directions. Reality is based on endless and pointless repetitions. It is the pointless drifting in circles, in non-identical repetitions. This results in the unmanageability of organizations. From this we can conclude that clichés, like means-end rationality or efficiency, create the fundamentals for the unmanageability

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of organizations. This is initiated by an urge for a security, which turns out to be an illusion of security. This urge creates fear and again results in a paradoxical situation. It results in a world of insecurity. We have seen that the manager is one of the most important contemporary characters in this paradoxical world. We have seen that he or she is immoral, manipulative, and powerless. Still he or she tries to act in a goal-oriented way driven by common and good sense. He or she follows the lines of the tree. He or she even tries to manipulate these. This causes powerlessness. The only remedy is to start dwelling and create a possible space for boredom. In the last part, I have discussed theories about organization aesthetics. These offer an alternative for the rational and cliché-like world of organization. They plead for the relearning of the use of our senses. This is different from the cliché-like world as described in the annual reports. These are based on employees who act in a rational way. This ratio denies the body and its senses. We have, however, seen that we cannot neglect the body or the senses. As mentioned, the idea is to learn anew how to use the senses in order to break through a situation of aesthetic muteness and amnesia. This should help us to act in a zone of incomprehensibility. This brings us back to the claim that organizations do not think anymore. As they pretend to only accept ratio, this happens from a situation in which thought is abandoned, and only copying is favored. The cliché doesn’t need thinking. In the discussed film examples, we have seen how this does not work anymore. The aforementioned crisis shows that thinking is needed in order to break through the clichés like a means-ends rationality, a logical sequence of time, transparency, mouldability, the hero, or the happy end. We have seen that these clichés do not deliver what they promise. We have also seen this in The Big Lebowski, in which the hero isn’t recognized as a hero and maybe doesn’t even exist anymore, where the world is incomprehensible instead of transparent, where time jumps up and down in an unrecognizable way and where the ending isn’t happy, but just an ending. And maybe not even an ending, but something that goes on forever and ever, and maybe the end is even just a moment in time, just like in the annual reports. A moment that we have called an ending, just for the sake of being able to do so. Time itself decides in what way it moves, and we cannot treat this in a thoughtless way.

CONCLUSIONS

Organizations are caught in clichés. This means that there is a similarity in the way organizations present themselves in annual reports as well as in textbooks. This similarity can be labelled as isomorphism. The basis for this are myths, which legitimize our trust in clichés. The problem with clichés is that they make thinking obsolete. What does this mean for the statement that organizations are caught in clichés? This implies, as mentioned, that organizations do not think anymore. Instead of thinking, they only copy. This results in their creating an “appearance-reality,” which is considered real. It is, however, an illusion based on myths, and this causes organizations to undermine themselves. I have argued that this illusion is exemplified by knowability. In other words, through the idea that we can comprehend the world in which organizations play their part and the way this organization takes place. This implicates that we can perceive this, and that this perception supplies us with the relevant information to know what action to pursue. This also suggests that the world is mouldable. As we know what we have to do, we are put in a position to calculate the steps we have to take, and even actually take them. This should eventually result in our reaching our goals. This teleology is dominant in organizations. It shapes the world of the cliché. The striving for clarity however results in superficiality, and as a result things are not so clear anymore. Transparency results in an illusionary transparency; it results in opaqueness. What can also be concluded is that there is a constant fear of the outside world. This outside world is threatening and protection has to be secured. To realize this, a militant sphere is created in which organizations should function as programmable machines. This implicates another important notion, namely that time passes chronologically and sequentially. It is assumed that how time behaves and how it can be directed to realize the goals decided upon are known. The idea of an annual plan highlights this. In other words, time can be fixed. This also suggests that space can be fixed. In other words, that we are in a hodological space, in which coordinates are determined and in which we know how to move about. The hodological space is a pre-destined space in which we know what awaits us and in which we also know how to react to

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this. It is predictable, knowable, and mouldable. We can trust this space. It shapes the world of the cliché in which thinking seems superfluous. I have concluded that this is an unacceptable situation. Why is it that organizations do not think? Why do they prefer clichés to thinking? Organizations should become aware of their potency to think and the relevance of this. Organizations should realize that there is an alternative reality besides the world of clichés. But how can organizations start thinking again? Nevertheless, there is some sort of thinking going on in organizations that can be referred to as calculative thinking. This is used to predict future developments. This cliché-like thinking is however not the thinking that is relevant for this investigation. The relevant thinking is the so-called contemplative thinking. This, however, does not suggest that this calculative thinking is unnecessary. In other words, that clichés are only negative. It is not about the question of whether clichés are positive or negative, because clichés can have positive and negative aspects to them. It is not about good or bad, but about the functioning of clichés and the effects of this functioning. It is not about renouncing or embracing them, but about thinking them through. The French philosopher Gilles Deleuze rejects cliché. According to him, the cliché alienates us. This alienation from our world and from ourselves causes us to get entangled in our own illusion. It is a situation we should not accept. The cliché should be shown for what it is; namely, a cliché. But he also explains how we can break through cliché. This is only possible with the help of film, as film is the only form of art that has the potency to show us the so-called “real-reality.” This is a reality that we cannot see anymore because of our cliché-like perception. It is a daily banality to which we have closed our eyes. Through seeing this realreality, we can regain our faith in this world. The film philosophy of Gilles Deleuze informs us that the abovementioned situation of predictability, knowability, and mouldability is typical for the classical film. This is exemplified by the sensory-motor image. We perceive something, are affected by it, and know what action to undertake. The action is embedded in the perception. This perception however is cliché-like according to Deleuze, as we only perceive what we want to perceive. Thinking is superfluous in this, because we already know what we should do. There seems to be no reason to think. These films picture a world that can be exemplified by mysteries, but the solution is always within reach. They can contain a secret question that has to be investigated, but the answer is always available and relevant. There is a clear beginning and end of the actions. The happy end is always lurking.

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The sensory-motor scheme of the classical film is caught in a crisis. This crisis can be summarized in five elements. The first is that the image does not refer to a uniform, synthetic situation, but to one that is dispersed. The second is that there is no logical sequence to the events. The specific parts are cut loose from one another. The only thing that keeps them together is chance. The third element is that the sensory-motor scheme is exchanged for strolling or drifting. The journey becomes determining as well as the continuous return. The action is not determined beforehand, and is not embedded in the image we perceive. The directed action that lies in the future, and which we know beforehand and should take us further, becomes obsolete. The fourth element is that the only things that can be considered whole are clichés. They are internalized in everyone and designate the thinking and feelings in such a way that everyone becomes a cliché in a world made of clichés. This leads to the fifth element, which is the condemnation of the plot based on the autocracy of clichés. Everyone is caught in clichés without their being aware of this. This created the urgency in finding new ways of making films, which resulted in the modern film. This resisted the cliché-like imagery and started using the potency of film to break through the cliché. This subversive potency enables us to visualize the world as it really is. The aforementioned crisis formed the basis for Italian neorealism and the French nouvelle vague. These showed that the world had become incomprehensible. The world was presented in a different way in which the hero had disappeared, or more precisely a way in which heroism had become obsolete. It also showed that a happy end was not one of the options per se, as there was no real end or beginning. Time was out of joint, because the sequence of time was disrupted and there was no notion of evolution anymore. Past, present, and future melted into an incomprehensible whole, as visualized through hyalosigns. The perception of this image leads to a so-called shock to thought. It makes us think and enables us to regain our trust in this world. This “real-reality” is embedded in the time-image, which can be shown with the help of film. It is a direct image of time. This modern film, however, does not mean that the classical film disappeared, but instead that the modern film was created next to it. With the help of the thoughts on film by Deleuze, I have respectively described the films eXistenZ, Do the Right Thing, and Clerks. These films show a world that deviates strongly from the cliché-like world as sketched in the annual reports or textbooks. They visualize a world that cannot be explained in a univocal way. They show a dispersed situation in which the actors drift around without any apparent goals. In eXistenZ, a world is

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shown that is identical to a game. Knowability, mouldability, and teleology are useless in it. The normal repertoire for acting has become obsolete. This also goes for the worlds of Do the Right Thing and Clerks. The actors in these worlds are present without really wanting to be there. Escape is, however, impossible. Everyone is searching for an identity to make the situation in which they are caught manageable and recognizable for the other. Meanwhile, time is out of joint. This becomes obvious through the fact that everything happens within the timeframe of one day. This suggests that it makes no difference what day it is, because every day is the same. A logical sequence, progress, or even a possible evolution are illusions. They show the brutal reality of a world as it really is. It is the daily banality. It is the real-reality, as described by Deleuze. Film has shown that the real-reality takes place in the “any-spacewhatever.” This implies that architecture plays an important part in the thinking about clichés. The central concept in this is living. This concept is further investigated with the help of German philosopher Martin Heidegger, who claimed that in order to build, we first must know what living is. This also means that living equals being. Our being in this world is an important factor in our thinking about building and living, but especially in our investigation of the cliché. Where Deleuze used the concept of the any-space-whatever, Heidegger refers to a poetic space. This is not a hodological space, but a space not designated by ratio that remains open and undetermined. With the help of the American architect Frank Lloyd Wright, I have explained how his thinking about organization, and especially about the office landscape, was way ahead of its time. This makes architecture an important companion in our thinking about organization, but also in our thinking about the cliché. Architecture tries to break through the cliché, and this also has its effects on organization. Through architectural examples such as the Martin House, the Larkin Building, and the Johnson Wax Administration Building of Frank Lloyd Wright, the Villa VPRO, the Centraal Beheer building of Hertzberger and the Willis Faber & Dumas building from Norman Foster, I have argued how architecture plays a decisive role in our thinking about cliché and organization and how the any-space-whatever takes part in this. It is implicitly shown that these situations and the thinking they cause are not limited to the inside or outside spaces of organization, but that these limitations, these borders, have dissolved. The border has become obsolete. There is no difference between the inside and the outside world of organizations. They have become one, and they are caught in clichés.

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I have explained how the actors try to shape their identities in situations that are incomprehensible for them and in which their standard repertoires for acting falls short. The only remedy seems to be drifting in the game of their reality. The film Office Space has shown how the protagonist escaped his organizational prison, and indulged in what Peter Sloterdijk has called the basic condition of man—namely, boredom. Being disgusted by organization, he escapes by disposing of all that has to do with organization or by ridiculing this. This means that he actually tears down his cubicle, which was his organizational space. This tearing down is the physical manifestation of his deliverance and his giving in to boredom. He uses the potency of the architecture and understands the relevance of living and boredom. He escapes from the imprisonment of the cliché as it became a reality in organization, but also in his private life. In this imprisonment, an important role is played by the manager. I have argued that this role is shaped by a paradoxical combination of impotence and manipulation. In the films Das Experiment, Dogville, and Brazil, examples were shown of the ways in which the presence or the absence of the manager results in identical situations. The manager apparently does not make a difference, despite the fact that this is what is expected of him. It is a clear display of his impotence. Regarding this, I have argued that the role of the manager is superfluous. Another escape is described with the help of the theories concerning organization aesthetics. These have offered an alternative for the rational cliché-like approach to organization. In these, the corporeal experience is at the centre of attention. The body as well as the space in which the body is are considered of crucial importance for organization. These thoughts are also important in our thinking about cliché and organization. This whole investigation and the used method of an aesthetic discourse analysis can be considered as a contribution to the theories of organization aesthetics. It offers space in which the cliché can be further investigated and in which thinking can claim its position in organization. Therefore, the help of the non-cliché film is once again essential. In the introduction three questions were asked, which can be considered as comprising the leading thread running through this investigation, just like the visual readings of The Big Lebowski. The questions are: what is the cliché we have to break through?, how does this make us think?, and what is the connection to organization? With the help of the visual reading of various films, these questions are answered. The clichés of the teleology, mouldability, and knowability of a situation in which we are present proved to be dominant. This is like blind trust in the means-ends rationality. These are accompanied by ideas like a pre-

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destined happy end, the hero who will make a difference in the end, and time, which progresses in a sequential way. Film, however, has shown that these clichés are of no use anymore. The means-ends rationality and the hero have become obsolete—the end is just like the beginning, opaque or absent, and time is out of joint. This is what we have seen in all the entanglements in The Big Lebowski, and especially through the characters of the Dude and Walter. The Dude acts like a nomad and clichés are of no use to him. Walter, on the other hand, still believes in the world of the cliché, although everything he tries to do goes wrong. The Dude offers us a happy way out of cliché, while his counterpart Walter remains caught in clichés. It is the Dude’s carefree and apparently careless acting that is charming and makes us think, and should eventually help us regain our faith in this world. The haziness of the Dude is, however, still uncharted territory.

FILMOGRAPHY

The Big Lebowski (1998). Director: Coen Brothers Blow-Up (1966). Director: Michelangelo Antonioni Brazil (1985). Director: Terry Gilliam Clerks (1994). Director: Kevin Smith Dogville (2003). Director: Lars von Trier Do the Right Thing (1989). Director: Spike Lee eXistenZ (1999). Director: David Cronenberg The Hudsucker Proxy (1994). Director: Coen Brothers Ikiru (1952). Director: Akira Kurosawa L’Avventura (1960). Director: Michelangelo Antonioni L’Eclisse (1962). Director: Michelangelo Antonioni Office Space (1999). Director: Mike Judge Playtime (1967). Director: Jacques Tati Mirror (1974). Director: Andrei Tarkovsky Stalker (1979). Director: Andrei Tarkovsky

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank and give my sincere appreciation to: my beautiful wife Huubke, who was of great help in the thoughts presented here. Her background as an artist (photography, video-art, painting, sculpting, etc.) was of great value. In always new, original, and exciting ways, she commented on the films we watched and architecture we experienced, and which I describe here, always seeing things that I didn’t. Besides all that, she is a true princess and an amazing cook. Furthermore, I would like to thank and give my sincere appreciation to: René ten Bos and Juliette, Ruud Kaulingfreks, The Yue family—Anthony, Patricia, and Sienna, Anke Strauß, Temi Darief, Sverre Spoelstra, Roger Kengen, Celeste Koopman, Cynthia Jordens, Stephen Pursey (for his great help with this translation), Sam Baker (Cambridge Scholars Publishing), Pierre Guillet de Monthoux, Willem Desmense (uitgeverij IJzer), Jo Janssen (Jo Janssen Architecten), Yvonne Benschop, Ignaas Devisch, Grahame Lock, Wim van de Bergh, Hans Alma, Willem de Nijs, and Hans Heijnen (denijsheijnen), Erik Lazeroms (ABK), Nico Nelissen, Eric Bolle, Albert Mills and Jean Helms Mills, Chris Hart and Gretchen, Carl Rhodes and Alison Pullen, Edward Wray Bliss, Matt Statler, Thomas Lennerfors, Bernadette Loacker, Claudia Schnugg, Jacco van Uden, Peter Case, Frank Mueller, Nick Butler, John Stuart, Lieven de Cauter, Peter Sloterdijk, the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation at Taliesin West, Brain Spencer, Indira Berndtson, OMA (Rem Koolhaas & Stephan Peterman), the Johnson Wax Administration Building (Greg Anderegg, Leah Schmid, Michelle Johnson), Jim Goldstein and his lovely assistants (for inviting me to the Sheats Goldstein residence in LA, home of Jackie Treehorn in The Big Lebowski), OOA (Jan Willem Kradolfer, Frank Husken, Harry ter Braak, and Erna Scholtes), Lene ter Haar, Sarah Meers (for helping me with designing my website and business cards), Sylvia, Meike, and Indy, Sandy, Caroline, Andrea (Beckflash photography), Leon (the loudest bass player in the world), Marcel & Justin (SCUMBAG!), Mike ((H)EAR), the Smeets sisters—Femke, Floortje, and Feikje, The Mars Volta and Antemasque (Cedric and Omar), my mother (only 84 years young), my brother Marc, and all my friends and colleagues who supported and have inspired me.

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Acknowledgements

Fueled by: OOIOO, Boris, Bo Ningen, Boredoms, Swans, Einstürzende Neubauten, Judas Priest, Deep Purple, Rainbow, Aerosmith, Van Halen, Busdriver, Why?, Edan, Themselves, Sage Francis, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Archie Shepp, Eddie Hazel, Sonny Sharrock, John Zorn, Marc Ribot, KISS, Ace Frehley, Penderecki, Ligeti, Bartok, Varese, Xenakis, Scelsi, Squarepusher, Aphex Twin, Diamanda Galas, Scott Walker, Six Organs of Admittance, Charalambides, Badgerlore, The Shaggs, Sun City Girls, Glenn Hughes, Tommy Bolin, Randy Castillo, Thomas Pridgen, Terry Bozzio, Cozy Powell, Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, Vinnie Vincent Invasion, Pamelia Kurstin, Garry Winogrand, Araki, Andreas Gurski, Brueghel, Francis Bacon, Anish Kapoor, J. M. W. Turner, Paul Klee, Edward Hopper, Marina Abramovich, Larry David, Bender, Paul Auster, Haruki Murakami, John Fante, Charles Bukowski, Stanislaw Lem, Jack Vance, William Gaddis, Thomas Pynchon, Cormac McCarthy, Don DeLillo, Herman Koch, Kurt Vonnegut, Kafka, Gilles Deleuze, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Avital Ronell, Michel Serres, Michel Foucault, Jean Baudrillard, Giorgio Agamben, Peter Sloterdijk, Søren Kierkegaard, Frank Lloyd Wright, Rem Koolhaas, Louis Kahn, John Lautner, Pierre Konig, Alvar Aalto, Wiel Arets, Herzog and DeMeuron, Daniel Libeskind, Zaha Hadid, Lebbeus Woods, Mies vd Rohe, Louis Sullivan, Tadao Ando, Peter Zumthor, Andrei Tarkovsky, Michelangelo Antonioni, Takeshi Kitano, John Cassavetes, Robert Bresson, Jean Luc Godard, Michael Haneke, David Lynch, David Cronenberg, the Coen Brothers, Jim Jarmusch, Alex van Warmerdam, Ingmar Bergman, Eric Rohmer, Luis Bunuel, Akira Kurosawa, Minoru Kawasaki, Robert Altman, Ulrich Seidl, Takashi Miike, Guy Maddin, and many more. Dr Luc Peters is a philosopher and writer. His book Cliché & Organisatie, denken met Deleuze & Film was published by Uitgeverij IJzer in the Netherlands in 2014. This book was nominated for Book of the Year in the Netherlands by OOA. His books In the Mirror (together with Dr Anthony R Yue), and Frank Lloyd Wright—NOMAD (together with Huubke Rademakers) are set to be released somewhere in the near future. A novel with the working title FooTprinTs is in progress. He is a regular at various conferences like EGOS, APROS, or SCOS, and a co-organizer of the CORPORATE BODIES Film Fest. Besides writing, he works as a manager, is a guest-lecturer, consultant gives masterclasses, and last but certainly not least, is a hard rock drummer. Between his travels and adventures, Luc lives and works in the Netherlands. www.lucpeters.net