VERTIGO AND NORTH BY NORTHWEST:

LANGUAGE AND/OF DESIRE

Hitchcock comes close to being obsessed with women and desire. In North by Northwest he integrates these two obsessions and, as I want to suggest, provides a view of a woman's desire in the character of Eve Kendall. Two recent works by Slavoj Zizek provide an interesting framework for an interpretation of this film. In Looking Awry, Zizek examines desire through showing how Lacanian psychology can be explained through interpretations of popular works of fiction and film, and, relevant to this paper, in several of Hitchcock's films. He makes the point, which I will link to North by Northwest, that the object of desire is not so much a concrete object (a person, thing, or event), as it is a mask or image projected onto a concrete object. More precisely, one desires not an object in concreto, but an object identifiable with the image projected by desire.

Film terminology provides a means for designating the distinction between the object and the image projected. Call the object the "screen," and the individual casting the image the "projector," and the image cast the "projection". This language would suggest an analogy between film directing and desire. Hitchcock obliquely suggests such an analogy in the opening credits scene of Vertigo. The shot is a close up of a woman's face -- first of her lips then of her eye. Although I do not want to deny the suggestion of vertigo in this scene, it is apparent that the eye is projecting various images, akin to the projection of a desire-image.

Hitchcock provides other examples of the projection of desire. In Vertigo, Scottie projects a desire-image onto Judy. The mask is a projected image through which Scottie hopes to transform Judy (back) into Madeleine. The traditional role of women is portrayed here as a passive or reactive role in which she attempts to become the image projected onto her. Judy portrays an image of Madeleine, first as created by Gavin Elster, then as the (same) image created by Scottie. Because the image of Scottie's desire is created by Elster and Judy -- Elster the creator, Judy the actor, or the embodiment, or better yet, the objectification of that desire-image -- Hitchcock suggests that Scottie is not the author of his own desire, since Scottie's desire is to re-create the image of a woman whose image was initially created by another, Gavin Elster. In North by Northwest, desire is portrayed in the same way, i.e. as the projection of a desired image that does not originate with oneself. One important difference between the two films, however, is that North by Northwest portrays the desire of a woman whereas Vertigo portrays the desire of a man. But in neither case should the idea that one's desire is created by another come as a surprise. This paper will explore the idea that no desire-image is one's own, especially for Hitchcock. The only desire of one's own may be the self-reflexive desire to perpetuate desire.

The theme of the perpetuation of desire is at least as old as Plato's Symposium. In the speech attributed to Aristophanes, Plato creates a myth about desire in which human beings were originally spherical. There were three types: those that were androgynous and those in which both halves of the sphere were the same gender (this constitutes two of the types, since there was a male and a female type). They were eventually split apart, by virtue of a spat with the gods. This is intended to explain the popular myth that each person has a perfect mate -- one's "other half". After the split desire brings the individuals together again, and they claim, at least, that they desire a return to oneness with their beloved, and thereby to end desire. But when Hephaestus asks if they want to be reunited, the suggestion is that they should decline. The rationale? Be careful what you desire. The underlying motif is that it is not the thing or person that one desires, but the projected desire-image. Not only is the desire to end desire paradoxical, it is tragic. The greatest tragedy is to have one's desire granted, not to have it denied. The moral of the myth is that one's desire is, not to have the thing granted that will sate one's desire, but to perpetuate desire. And the way to do that is through the projection of a desire-image onto an object, or "screen". The problem in this case, however, is that since one is never the object of only one projected image, the projection may result in an asymmetry between the projection and the "screen" -- as in the case of a woman being subjected to the image projected by a man.

I

Hitchcock's assumption that the identity of a character is always determined by the 'other' is an important theme among many twentieth century theorists: Saussure, Lacan, Wittgenstein, Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, et al. Through what has been called the "linguistic turn" Wittgenstein, for example, combats the traditional philosophical problem of solipsism -- that the self cannot know anything other than itself. On the traditional account of subjectivity, an individual consciousness has what could be called private sensations, e.g. you cannot know my pain. Wittgenstein, however, subverts this idealized notion of the self. In outline, he argues that to say that I know my sensations means that I must be able to articulate the distinction between various sensations. In particular, I must be able to distinguish a sensation from other sensations, and to be able to identify them diachronically. The means for marking this distinction is language. But language is, by nature, social and inter-subjective. This in turn implies that I cannot have a private knowledge of my sensations as in principle incomprehensible to others, insofar as I identify my sensations by a language that is intersubjective.

Moreover, I cannot provide a private account of my sensations linguistically, since this would contradict the rules of the game of language. By speaking a language, one masters a set of rules. Insofar as I master the language and its rules, I must be able to repeat this distinction and identify a particular sensation as comparable to another -- either as similar to or as different from another. In short, language is the means by which I come to understand my sensations. Were my language private (a notion that seems, in principle, incoherent), I could not articulate meaningful linguistic expressions. The moment, however, that I do distinguish sensations from one another and thereby enable a diachronic recognition of them, I must be able to mark or signify the sensation as comparable to other sensations.

If I use signs to identify my sensations, then I will have articulated a linguistic distinction by which to demarcate these sensations. Moreover, once I assign a mark or sign, I simultaneously create a rule by which to distinguish between aberrant and legitimate applications of that mark or sign. Now, in this case I am confronted with one of two possibilities: I follow the rule of the sign, and its concomitant regulation of aberrant and legitimate usage, or I do not follow the rule and thus have no means available for even a "private" recognition of that sensation. In the former case my marking or signifying the sensation and subjecting it to a rule means that this same mark and its accompanying rule must, in principle, be accessible to anyone. Hence it cannot be private, in the sense of being in principle incomprehensible to anyone else. In the latter case, if I do not follow the rule imposed by the sign or mark, then even I have no means of knowing the sensation. Hence the knowledge of my sensations is not priveleged, but is in principle accessible to anyone insofar as language is a public phenomenon.

If we generalize from the argument against a private language we can conclude that there are no identifiable traits of an individual apart from his/her linguistic inscription. This in turn implies that the identity of the self is tied inextricably to language. Insofar as one can be said to "know oneself," s/he must be able to provide individuating marks or signs of the self. But once one linguistically articulates his/her identity, it is no longer "private," i.e. accessible only to oneself, but is in principle publicly accessible by being linguistically determined and articulated. The identity of self is thus determined by language.

The more radical implication is that there is no, at least intelligible, self "behind" the self insofar as it is linguistically determined. Language is by nature social, on Wittgenstein's account, and indicates what he calls "forms of life." Since the identity of the self is determined by language, and since language is socially informed, the identity of self is determined by a social-linguistic matrix of relations. The identity of self and its specific set of desires, in particular, are not created by oneself, as is suggested by the myth of solipsism, but are determined by the social-linguistic matrix of relations prescribed by the system of signifiers. This social-linguistic matrix determines the self through a complex web of relations, beliefs, desires, etc. The individuating mark of a particular individual then would be the specific configuration of that web. Apart from such a matrix there is no identifiable, intelligible self. This again suggests the notion that one's desires do not originate with the self. Insofar as I inherit a language with its matrix of relations, what it is possible to desire is in principle already at least implicitly contained within the inherited language. Thus my desires are not my own, in the sense that I have constructed a private, individualized set of desires inaccessible to any other, but are by implication the desires of 'the Other.'

Moreover, the rules of any particular language game are not necessarily created by the players of the game. One inherits the language by which to describe the experience(s) one will have (or has had). One is never asked about whether s/he agrees to the rules or not -- the rules are part of the language. At the point one learns a language one is thereby determined by that language and by particular social-linguistic uses, i.e. language games and their implicit rules.

II

The projection of desire raises several questions about Hitchcock's films and about desire in general. In North by Northwest Hitchcock attempts to portray a woman's desire in Eve Kendall. But is this a woman's desire or is it the projection of an ontologically "male" desire upon a woman by Hitchcock, i.e. one she might not project herself as a woman? What is the nature of desire apart from gender, or is it even possible to speak of desire as genderless? It seems no longer tenable, vis-à-vis Wittgenstein, Lacan, Derrida, and Lyotard, for example, to hold that there is something like a "woman's nature," i.e. some essence (other than genetic, perhaps) common to all women. The desire of "woman" then must mean something more like the desires of a multiplicity of women, and hence a multiplicity of desires -- unless of course all women have the same set of desires. But in turn this would suggest that once desires are articulated, they can no longer be specific to women. That is, assuming that language "goes all the way down" and hence that there is nothing behind specific linguistic usage, once the desires of women become 'public,' there can no longer be some specific language game necessarily specific to women. To extend this argument, there cannot be a "private" language of desire, since the only means available for knowing desires is language, which is by default "public." This suggests that there is no natural desire, but only desires created for us by "the Other."

Hitchcock seems to understand the implication that one's desires and one's self are not self-created. In Vertigo, for example, Scottie's desire-image is in effect created by Gavin Elster, who, after his initial appearance, fades into the background to be seen only twice again in the film -- once at a club and again at the inquest/trial after Madeleine's murder. One doesn't realize (at least on a first viewing) that Elster is the creator of Scottie's desire, in the person of Madeleine/Judy, until well into the film. At the second meeting between Scottie and Elster, Elster further formulates and articulates the image of Scottie's desire, creating a more convincing and elaborate story about the mystery surrounding Madeleine/Judy. He, in effect, creates a symbolic network or a language game of desire for Scottie. The appearance of Hitchcock in the film also conveys the same idea. Hitchcock has, to an extent, created the characters and their desires, though, one could claim, Hitchcock was not the ultimate originator either. This suggests the more general point that we never know the creator of our desires.

Hitchcock's allowing the audience to see the creator of a desire-image is significant. There is the obvious point in Vertigo that Scottie has been duped. But more importantly, Hitchcock here questions authorship (his own included). The fact that, in Vertigo, the "author" of Scottie's desire-image has a face is to some extent irrelevant. Elster's role in the film is relatively insignificant. He fades into the background and is seen only three times in the film. Elster's relative obscurity suggests the manner of origin of desire-images in general -- we forget or never know the origin of our desires. Scottie either completely forgets, or never knows the origin of his desire-image. Desire obsesses him completely.

Prior to his meeting with Gavin Elster, Scottie is portrayed as one who seems almost desireless. By virtue of his displacement (he lost his job and, in part, his social world), he no longer has a desire he can articulate, and hence no longer seems to have any definite desire. To push this point to the extreme, because no one has created his desire for him, he is desireless. As Robin Wood puts it (though to make a different point) in reference to Scottie's initial hanging from the building from which the policeman fell, "The effect is of having him, throughout the film, metaphorically suspended over a great abyss." The abyss, in this context, is the lack of desire (ambiguity intended). Midge tries to fill in the gap for him, but ends up reducing "everything to the same matter-of-fact level." She is unable to provide a palpable image of desire, and instead attempts to provide the "real" as substitute for an image of desire. His desire-image is eventually created for him by Elster.

III

In North by Northwest, Eve knows both sides of Thornhill's story -- Vandamm's belief that Thornhill is a U.S. agent named Kaplan, and the FBI's image of him as one who has inadvertently fallen into the role of a nonexistent character, Kaplan. What Zizek calls "a floating signifier" is thus attached to Thornhill and this signifier determines his identity. Floating signifiers are words that have no essential meaning of their own, but acquire their meaning through linkage to a relational matrix unified by a particular ideology. As such, depending on the relational matrix to which a signifier is linked or 'quilted,' its meaning may change. For example, "freedom" might be construed as a floating signifier, since for a Marxist it might mean something like not having to live under the economic inequalities of Capitalism. While under the ideology of a Democracy, "freedom" might be construed to mean an individual's ability to speak and perform certain activities without fear of reprisal. The meaning of a floating signifier is thus determined retroactively, i.e. after being 'quilted' into a relational matrix such as an ideology. Hence, Thorhnill's identity as Kaplan is 'retroactive' in the sense that the mandate placed upon him by the signifier 'Kaplan' is understood by him only after he's 'let-in' on the FBI's story and he becomes Kaplan. The floating signifier 'Kaplan' is then bounded, its "freedom" delimited by the relational matrix into which it is 'quilted. Thornhill's becoming Kaplan includes his assuming all the concomitant obligations of being a government agent.

Within an ideological field there are 'equivalences' between each element through which that element is connected with every other element in that ideological field. The ideological field "determines retroactively its very identity (in a Communist perspective, to fight for peace means to fight against the capitalist order, and so on). But this enchainment is possible only on condition that a certain signifier -- the Lacanian 'One' -- 'quilts' the whole field and, by embodying it, effectuates its identity." For Thornhill, the floating signifier 'Kaplan' has been 'halted' or 'quilted' by the intelligence agency's ideological "One." Thornhill thereby becomes what is determined by quilting the signifier 'Kaplan' into the ideological image of the FBI.

In order to explain what becomes of the object to which or to whom a floating signifier is attached, Zizek utilizes antidescriptivist theory, in which a signifier is not a description of the object to which it is attached. An object will retain the same name, even if all the traits associated with the object at its initial 'baptism' are later altered. Zizek offers the example that if someone discovered that all the properties associated with the word 'gold' were in fact illusory, we would not say 'the object which we have called gold is in fact not gold,' but 'gold does not have the properties traditionally associated with it.' The name, therefore, does not refer to the properties associated with the object throughout its "history," but with the properties associated with it at present, regardless of whether these contradict previous traits associated with that object/name. This point is applicable to Thornhill/Kaplan. At the end of North by Northwest, Thornhill reclaims the name 'Thornhill,' even though the traits initially associated with him have changed. This antidescriptivist account also applies to the counterfactual, and hence explains Thornhill's assumption of the name Kaplan. Stated as a counterfactual, we get: If X has the traits a, b, c . . . .n, then this individual is Thornhill. In the case of Thornhill, however, he does not have the same traits in the middle or at the end of the film that he had at the beginning, but the audience nevertheless continues to associate him with the name 'Thornhill.' That is, there may be an individual who matches all the assumed traits of 'Kaplan' but to whom the audience nevertheless denies the name 'Kaplan.' The individual in question, i.e. Thornhill, is not linked, for the audience, to the causal chain of the 'initial baptism' of Kaplan, but to the initial baptism of 'Thornhill.'

In the case of Kaplan, the story is a bit more complicated. The name 'Kaplan' is a free floating signifier, since it has no definite traits, and hence is susceptible to being quilted into any relational matrix. This is why for the FBI it means a decoy to entrap Vandamm, while for Vandamm, the name 'Kaplan' means a dangerous enemy agent who must be stopped. By a curious accident, Thornhill is baptised 'Kaplan' by Vandamm. For the audience the name 'Thornhill' applies to Grant by virtue of his initial baptism. We see the "mistake" and do not take him to be Kaplan. Thus, the name 'Thornhill' is quilted into the relational matrix of the audience. For Vandamm, on the other hand, there is a different relational matrix into which the name 'Kaplan' is quilted and, by virtue of the initial (mis)identity, Thornhill is Kaplan. However, Thornhill himself is unsure of his identity and this lack of identity makes it easy for him to be shaped, molded by the floating signifier 'Kaplan'.

Ironically, through being made to play the 'social' role of Kaplan, by both the FBI and by Vandamm, Thornhill becomes Kaplan. There is nothing in his 'essence' that makes him fit the mold, formulated by others, of Kaplan. It is simply through playing a social role that he actually becomes the character he is playing. This 'becoming' something or someone else through a social/linguistic matrix is the point of Wittgenstein's analyses of language and of Lacan's symbolic order, particularly as articulated by Zizek -- one is a social "product."

But what motivates Thornhill to become this signifier is Eve Kendall. Until Thornhill meets Kendall, he is confused about the mandate placed on him by the signifier 'Kaplan.' For Thornhill the signifier 'Kaplan' is a floating signifier, though he doesn't know it. He thinks it is already tied to a concrete individual. There are no properties or definitively descriptive traits attached to a signifier apart from the matrix into which it is quilted. The "nothing" in Thornhill's monogram (ROT - on the train Eve asks him what the 'O' stands for and he responds "Nothing") alludes to this lack of quilting -- he has been unable to determine either the nature of the mandate placed on him or by whom/what, as a result of the attachment of this signifier. And, as Zizek points out, the subject "is always fastened, pinned, to a signifier which represents him for the other, and through this pinning he is loaded with a symbolic mandate, he is given a place in the intersubjective network of symbolic relations. The point is that this mandate is ultimately always arbitrary: since its nature is performative, it cannot be accounted for by reference to the 'real' properties and capacities of the subject." The problem, however, is that when the subject is asked why s/he has this mandate, s/he cannot answer since s/he has no idea why s/he occupies this place within the symbolic matrix. His/her answer to this question can only be the hysterical question: "Why am I what you [the big Other] are saying that I am?"

After the scene on the train, Eve sends Thornhill to meet Kaplan in the barren wilderness. What he meets there is a nothingness indicative of the emptiness of the signifier 'Kaplan.' That is, apart from a framework into which it is quilted, the signifier is empty. The signifier's emptiness is suggested not only by the absence of anyone assuming the name 'Kaplan,' but also by the emptiness of the landscape -- there is nothing to which the signifier can be quilted for Thornhill (save himself). After returning to Chicago Thornhill realizes he has been duped by Eve (in part, through his realization of a time conflict between Kaplan's checking out of the hotel and Eve's alleged discussion with Kaplan). After the auction sequence he discovers the FBI's side of the story and, in short, he is asked to become Kaplan, i.e. to continue playing the role of Kaplan. He plays this role, however, for Eve. Playing a social role, by adopting the mandate placed upon one by a 'quilted' signifier, is to become that 'role.' The nothing signified by the 'O', in Thornhill's monogram suggests the nothingness of an individual apart from the mandate of his/her signifier (secret agent, advertising executive, lover, etc). In short, to play a role is to become the role one is playing. The 'quilted' signifier 'Kaplan' is the role that Thornhill, a "nothing," is to become.

As Zizek points out, there are two crucial aspects to the individual and his/her identity: 'imaginary identification' (i.e. "identification with the image in which we appear likeable to ourselves" p.105), and 'symbolic identification' (i.e. "identification with the very place from where we are being observed, from where we look at ourselves so that we appear to ourselves likeable, worthy of love" p.105). The crucial question to ask of imaginary identification is: "for whom is the subject enacting this role? Which gaze is considered when the subject identifies himself with a certain image?" The symbolic identification of Thornhill as Kaplan is the FBI, i.e. he now observes himself from the standpoint of the FBI, his country, etc. This observation point enables him to be likeable to himself (hence his viewing Mount Rushmore and the implicit identification between himself and Teddy Roosevelt). But again, the more crucial question is for whom he is playing the role of Kaplan. He is playing this role for Eve. His symbolic identification through the FBI is only to make possible his imaginary identification, that is, as enacting this role for Eve. The image of his identity, therefore, is determined by Eve -- the crucial image for Thornhill to become is what she desires.

This can be seen in the strange dialectical love-relation between Roger Thornhill and Eve Kendall. Thornhill is presented as a nothing, a lack representative of his desire. What occurs in this strange dialectic is that Thornhill attempts to fill in his lack by presenting himself according to the image of desire projected by Kendall. But by virtue of the 'logic' of desire, Eve's desire is also a lack. The paradox of this dialectic is that two lacks are supposed to equal fulfillment or completion. As Zizek puts it, love is a form of deception in which "we try to fill out the unbearable gap of 'Che Vuoi?' [i.e. the question: "What do you really want?"], the opening of the Other's desire, by offering ourselves to the Other as the object of its desire. In this sense love is... an interpretation of the desire of the Other....The operation of love is therefore double: the subject fills in his own lack [Thornhill's 'nothing'] by offering himself to the other [Eve Kendall] as the object [Thornhill] filling out the lack in the Other [Kendall] -- love's deception is that this overlapping of two lacks annuls lack as such in a mutual completion."

Throughout the film, Thornhill attempts to discover his desire and his identity. His desire and identity are determined through another, namely Eve. Eve's seduction of Thornhill on the train, her protection of him, her sending him to his death, etc., provide an image, projected by her (at least ostensibly), which Thornhill strives to become. Eve gives Thornhill the power to save her in the end, by virtue of his having become a "secret agent" -- an image she projects onto him and which he strives to become. The more important salvation, however, is her saving him from his life as Thornhill.

In North by Northwest it is important that Eve sends Thornhill to the cropdusting scene. She in effect sends him to his death. The wonder she expresses at his return has been interpreted as her being relieved that she is not a murderer. But, I would suggest that her wonder at his return is not relief that she has not murdered him, but relief that she has murdered him. It is only after the cropdusting sequence that Thornhill assumes the identity of Kaplan, an identity he can assume only after Thornhill has died, at least metaphorically. Prior to this Thornhill uses the name of Kaplan at least twice -- once while in Kaplan's room, and once at the U.N. building. But it is only after the cropdusting sequence that he becomes Kaplan. By sending Thornhill to the cropdusting sequence, and hence to his death, Eve projects the image of her desire onto Thornhill, and the image she projects is that of Kaplan -- the exciting, risk-taking secret agent (the notion of a secret agent would also suggest a character who must assume a different identity). And in order for this image to stick, it is necessary to murder Thornhill. Furthermore, it is not the Thornhill we're introduced to in the beginning of the film that Eve has married at the end of the film -- when asked why he (Thornhill) was divorced twice, he responds that his previous wives said something about his life being too boring. It is Kaplan, not Thornhill, who lives the exciting life. He has become Kaplan, or the projection of the object of her desire under whatever name.

Throughout much of the film Kaplan does not exist. Thornhill eventually assumes the role of Kaplan, who then does exist for all practical purposes. This of course raises the obvious objection that Thornhill/Kaplan addresses Eve at the end of the film as Mrs. Thornhill. But, this is a new Thornhill, who undergoes a rebirth after the death of Kaplan. The second murder is the murder of Kaplan, another murder executed by Eve (in the cafeteria). This is why, at the end of the film, Kaplan is able to assume the role of Thornhill, who at that point no longer exists, but now exists as a new man, a man created by the image of a woman. The character of Thornhill is in search of his identity. And that identity and his resulting desire are determined for him by the Other. He continues to pursue an identity which can at best be described as nonexistent. First, as Thornhill, he pursues the identity of the non-existent Kaplan. Then as Kaplan he pursues the identity of another nonexistent individual, the image of a new Thornhill.

IV

Hitchcock presents the viewer with a reversal. Hitchcock's desire is the desire for a woman, Eve, to have a specific sort of desire. Eve is projected as one who creates an image of a man she could love, i.e. she projects the image of her desire onto Thornhill and he becomes that image. There are several allusions to her power to create this transformation of him into the object of her desire, the most notable being her (as Stanley Cavell puts it) holding the key to his "berth." It is only after this berth/birth, or rebe/irth, that he becomes or plays the role of Kaplan.

Hitchcock attempts to imagine the desire of a woman. He creates a double projection -- the projected image of the characters in/on film, and within that projection lies the projection of an image of desire as itself another projection. In both cases the object of desire is the projected image itself. In this sense Hitchcock creates the image of his desire through the projection of the camera. As director he manifests something like the concretion or reality of his own desire. But, like desire itself, it too is only an image. Part of the power film has is the potential to enable a viewing or screening of one's images of desire, i.e. fantasy. But the image presented or projected is itself nothing more than another image. This double projection results in an image of an image -- the image of desire created as the camera's or director's image. Hence, Hitchcock says something about the nature of film as well as about the nature of desire -- they both involve the projection of images in which what is desired is the projected image itself. The object of the projection is a blank screen, at least to the projector.

Insofar as the object onto which the image is projected is in effect a blank screen, Hitchcock expresses the "postmodernist" notion that before the acquisition of a particular language game, specifically as a game of desire, there is nothing. Along with the acquisition of language the individual acquires a set of desires and practices. These desires and practices, however, are not those of the individual, as though s/he had some nature or essence, particular or general, but those of the Other, i.e. of specific language games. The entire network of desires and practices are those of the Other acquired through language.