Slavoj Žižek on the univocity undergirding Soviet cinema.
Which, then, is the dimension of Heidegger’s thought that is worth fighting for and preserving?
Perhaps the best way to discern this dimension is to render problematic the notion of the
“univocity of being” whose main proponent in our times was Deleuze. The assertion of the
univocity of being can play a positive role in enabling us to dismiss all notions of ontological
hierarchy, from the theological vision of the universe as a hierarchical Whole, with God as the
only full Being at the top, up to the vulgar Marxist hierarchy of social spheres (economic
infrastructure as the only full reality, ideology as somehow “less real,” part of an illusory
superstructure). Along the same lines, one could interpret Dziga Vertov’s (Eisenstein’s great
opponent) Man with a Movie Camera as an exemplary case of cinematic communism: the
affirmation of life in its multiplicity enacted through a kind of cinematic parataxis, a setting side
by side of a series of daily activities—washing one’s hair, wrapping packages, playing piano,
connecting phone wires, dancing ballet—that reverberate in each other at a purely formal level,
through the echoing of visual and other patterns. What makes this cinematic practice communist
is the underlying assertion of the radical “univocity of being”: all the displayed phenomena are
equalized, all the usual hierarchies and oppositions among them, inclusive of the official
communist opposition between the Old and the New, are magically suspended (recall that the
alternate title of Eisenstein’s The General Line, shot at the same time, was precisely The Old
and the New). Communism is here presented not so much as the hard struggle for a goal (the
new society to come), with all the pragmatic paradoxes this involves (the struggle for the new
society of universal freedom should obey the harshest discipline, etc.), but as a fact, a present
collective experience.
From
Heidegger's Black Notebooks.