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What should you expect from Sophie Fiennes and her latest collaborative documentary The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology? A fragmented road to nowhere, full of inflated philosophy and contradictory metaphors, on a subject and idea articulated more persuasively in John Carpenter’s cult classic, They Live: we are controlled by hegemonic ideology and don’t even realize it. Carpenter’s movie is used as a framing device, representing the movie’s thesis statement, as it were.
With Slovakian philosopher Slavoj Zizek as our guide, we are brought on a meandering and confusing journey through popular culture (particularly film) and are lectured to about how capitalism has us under its psychological and cultural control (a radical idea, huh?). Zizek draws parallels with Nazi Germany, Russian Totalitarianism, and the capitalist system which, Zizek argues, keeps us occupied with our need, no, our “desire for desire.” Huxley read us the riot act with Brave New World nearly a century ago, and he even talked about the radical power of the Feelies. Religion doesn’t get off lightly, either, as Zizek uses that subtle masterpiece of ideological manipulation, The Sound of Music, as an exemplar of doctrinal control.
The problem? None of these ideas are new, and Zizek does not add any real complexity to his assertions. We are all alone, he posits. Talk to any existentialist in crisis, and he will tell you the same thing.
Having said that, though, some of this didactic monologue holds some interesting readings for film people. For instance, the shark in Jaws being used as a manifestation of society’s fears and therefore as focus for our rage (anger and rage being a common theme in ‘70s movies in general). Zizik suggests that this, too, is a confirmation of our blindness and willing conformity to “the man.” Much like how Nazi Germany used “the other,” embodied by the Jew, we’re kept focused on the threat of “the other” and therefore kept unbalanced and caged.
Nolan’s The Dark Knight is also taken to task, as we see the Joker—the speaker of truth—shut down and contained by a governing ideology. Not necessarily something I agree with, considering that he’s a psychopath and murderer.
Zizek also takes on Altman’s classic, M.A.S.H.—considered by some as a prime example of anarchic rebellion and symbolic of the ‘60s zeitgeist. Zizek comments on rebellious characters like Hawkeye, who appear on the surface to be breaking the rules but are nonetheless “good” soldiers, ultimately compliant to the organizing body of the Army and therefore the government. Our philosopher friend suggests that to break away from the ideological constraints of the dominator, we risk pain and maybe ultimate self-destruction (like Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, who sees the filth and the lies and pays the price for this need to push back; Zizek doesn’t mention that after his rampage, Bickle slides back into society once again). And, according to Zizek, this is the reason we remain enslaved.
Fiennes adds a little humor, as she inserts Zizek (a la Steve Martin in Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid) into scenes from various movies. The funniest being his appearance in the military bathroom from Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket. He also gets to lie on Travis Bickle’s bunk and hang out on the Orca from Jaws. Ultimately, though, Zizek is the obstacle here. Some may find him charming, but, for me, he’s the distraction. All of his physical mannerisms (like rubbing his nose multiple times during one particular scene) and his seemingly scriptless diatribes just wear thin. This is a visual medium, where every tick is exaggerated. The avuncular Zizek comes across more as a semi-autistic party guest who has read way too much Sartre and Kant and doesn’t realize that he himself is conforming to a type of iconoclastic ideology. And in that, he is not alone.
