Beyond the ‘Empathy Machine’ and Being John Malkovich.
Disclaimer: BIG SPOILERS if you have not watched the 30 year old film Being John Malkovich.
‘Ever wanted to be someone else? Now you can’
Is the beginning of the fictional advertisement placed by the tragic Craig Swartz (John Cuzak) and the unattainable Maxine (Catherine Keener) in writer Charlie Kaufman’s debut feature Being John Malkovich (1999, Dir. Spike Jonze). Office worker and disenfranchised puppeteer Swartz discovers a portal into the mind and body of actor John Malkovich (played by himself) behind a filing cabinet. This portal allows anyone to view the world through Malkovich’s eyes, feeling what he feels, for 15 minutes. An experience which Swartz and his colleague Maxine swiftly attempt to monetise, until the true significance of the portal is discovered by Swartz’ demure wife Lotte (Cameron Diaz). Lauded at the time as a zany metaphysical think piece from two soon-to-be auteurs of ‘the inner workings of self-involved men’ films (see also; Adaptation (2002, Jonze/ Kaufman), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004, Michel Gondry/ Kaufman), and Her (2012, Jonze)) contemporary re-readings of the late 90’s cult classic have noted it’s premonition of a public lust for celebrity proximity, and the unsung queer love story between Lotte and Maxine.
It’s relevance in Virtual Reality discussion has usually been as a shorthand for the virtually uninitiated. A byword to conjure up an idea of an ‘in-the-body-of’ VR experience, with reference to both the film's plot, and it’s memorable use of first person POV. Beyond this however, a contemporary look at Being John Malkovich can offer deeper significance as a meditation on the meaning of such ‘in-the-body-of’ experiences for audiences and subjects alike. Particularly if we look at it in relation to VR’s ‘Empathy Machine’ legacy, and the subplot-cum-mainplot of Lotte’s explorations of gender and sexuality through her embodiment in Malkovich.
A Machine to make us more Human
Much has been written about the relationship between Virtual Reality and Empathy. Not least because of its positioning as an ‘Empathy Machine’ in the title of the 2015 TEDTalk by VR ‘pioneer’ Director Chris Milk, at the crest of the most recent VR hype cycle.
In this talk Milk describes his observations of audiences reactions within his personal oeuvre of interactive media. Milk refers to multiple disparate definitions of ‘Empathy’ (a contested term in and of itself) during the talk. At various points ‘Empathy’ for Milk is; catching the emotion of another and feeling what they feel, imagining how oneself might feel in place of another, and feeling for another, a reaching out of emotion between the self and the other. In this case, a reaching out of emotion between audiences viewing his UN backed VR film ‘Clouds Over Sidra’ (2015) and the subject of the documentary, Sidra, a 12 year old Syrian refugee living with her family in the Zaatari refugee camp.
Milk : “you're sitting there with her. When you look down, you're sitting on the same ground that she's sitting on. And because of that, you feel her humanity in a deeper way. You empathise with her in a deeper way.”
VR does, in some sense, give the audience the illusionary perspective of another. Placing the audience in the position of the 360 camera, giving the illusion of being situated within a space where their body is not. If we take this as perhaps the most literal definition of empathy 'imaginatively placing oneself in the position or another’ it could be argued VR is a machine that duly replicates or simulates this mental task of perspective. More controversially however, the industry mythologies born out of Milk’s talk and other industry hype is that through this perspective, audiences might emotionally resonate more with the characters they become, or meet. This perceived function of Virtual Reality led to waves of ‘consciousness raising’ content to be produced from 2015 onwards by news and media outlets, NGOs and government bodies. These empathy claims create an ethical minefield surrounding this kind of VR content, littered with questions about efficacy, outcomes and power imbalances. For example; do and should audiences emotionally resonate with simulated encounters or others? Is this helpful for the work’s real life subjects? In Milk’s work for example; What is the relationship, if any, between the average white western middle class VR viewers experience of entering a simulation of Zaatari refugee camp, and the lived experience of an actual Syrian refugee? And ultimately what purpose does one’s experience serve in the other's life?
Critique of this content and these claims is an ongoing topic in VR documentary discourse, and recommended reading would be from the likes of Mandy Rose, Kate Nash and Carolyn Pedwell. In an insightful article for Artforum, Alyssa K. Loh notes the discontinuity between emotional empathy for or toward another, and the act of imagining oneself in place of the other. Notably Loh references the 2017 Tribeca film festival trailer ‘SEE YOURSELF IN OTHERS’, where these inherent tensions in empathy are interestingly and unwittingly represented. In the ad, various recognisable New York figures; a policeman, a businesswoman and a Hasdic Jewish man, see their own faces reflected in mirrored cube head coverings worn by others; a young African American boy, a homeless person, and a legibly Arabic man. These images represent to Loh the dangers of the empathy elicited by Virtual Reality experiences which claim to put audiences in the position of ‘the other’. Such works run the risk that the actual subject, the supposed recipient of empathy or feeling, becomes a mere object, used to facilitate the neoliberal empathetic experience of the more often than not privileged audience member. At worst the subject, who more often than not is a minoritized person, is actually erased in order to make space for the viewer to ‘jump in’ (and ‘jump out’) of a simulation of their lived experience. What is represented in the ‘See Yourself in Others’ ad is in fact the exercise of seeing oneself, literally and figuratively, instead of others. Loh concludes “a more apt image for this deep (and culturally symptomatic) misunderstanding of empathy can scarcely be imagined.”
“Everything made sense, I knew who I was!” “But you weren’t you, you were John Malkovich?” “I was wasn’t I..I was John fucking Malkovich!”
In Being John Malkovich the self involved nature of the ‘Malkovich Experience’ is explicit from the start. No visitor to Malkovich does so for altruistic reasons. They all have their personal reasons for going in and their personal revelations when coming out. Malkovich is used and abused for the personal development of the films characters, and ultimately becomes merely the host for Swartz to self-actualise into a celebrated celebrity puppet maestro. Being a host vessel for others is in-fact a fate for which, it turns out, Malkovich was bred.
Although a bleak comparison, it could be argued that to an extent it is these feelings of self actualisation that this certain strain of humanitarian VR documentaries stimulate; feeling compassionate, feeling empathetic, feeling like ‘doing the work’. The simulation of spending time in difficult or dangerous situations, extending feeling and emotional support to people experiencing heartbreaking suffering, violence and poverty, without ever actually having to do it.
Inside John Malkovich however, visiting voyeurs are free to be explicit about the selfish nature of their experiences. Through her experiences in Malkovich, Swartz’s wife Lotte too comes to dream of self actualisation. Pre-portal, Lotte is sidelined by self interested Swartz’; financially supporting him in his dead end puppeteering dreams, putting her plans for a family on hold for him to feel ready, and romantically relegated when Swartz develops a passion for his new coworker Maxine. Inside the body of Malkovich, however, Lotte experiences her first moments of revelatory self interest. Inside Malkovich Lotte suddenly feels sexy and powerful.
Lotte : [on hearing Malkovich read allowed] “So strong - I want that voice!”.
She feels an autonomy she has not yet felt as herself. She muses about the experience of gender swapping and of being ‘inside’ Malkovich, his mind and body as penetrable via portal;
Lotte : “I think it's kinda sexy that John Malkovich has a portal, y'know, sort of like, it's like he has a vagina. It's sort of vaginal, y'know, like he has a, he has a penis AND a vagina. I mean, it's sort of like Malkovich's feminine side. I like that”
She feels like something is ‘right’ when she is living through Malkovich, and wonders if what she actually desires is to transition.
Lotte : I’ve been going over and over my experience last night, Craig. It was amazing. I’ve decided - that I’m a transsexual. I know! It’s the craziest thing.
Craig : What are you fuckin’ nuts?!
...
C: Baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just a phase. It's the thrill of seeing through somebody else's eyes. Okay? It'll pass.
L: Don’t stand in the way of my actualisation as a man.
In a telling scene, where Lotte lies to Craig about where she has been inside Malkovich (saying he was home alone and lonely, rather than on a flirtatious date with Maxine) Craig replies;
C: “See men can feel unfulfilled too Lotte, you shouldn't be so quick to assume that switching bodies will be the answer to all your problems”
L: “You’re right Craig, you’re right..’
After this scene it seems Lotte does understand she doesn’t desire to transition per-say, to switch bodies or just become Malkovich, but instead to break out of her hitherto assumed position; as cis straight woman and dutiful wife to Craig. From her viewpoint behind his eyes, Lotte realises that she’s never been looked at the way people look at Malkovich. The realisation that there are other ways to be looked at, or perceived, or be, gives Lotte the confidence to stand up to Craig, and to pursue a mutual sexual interest in Maxine both inside and outside of Malkovich. Ultimately, through experiencing the perspective of Malkovich, Lotte sees outside the confines of her current existence; how she could be treated differently, and how the world she experiences responds differently to the body of Malkovich. Things she could not be aware of before this perspective shifting journey inside the body of another.
In many ways Lotte’s journey into Malkovich is the queer journey. Beyond questioning her gender and sexuality, her most profound realisation is that there is another way to be, to identify, or to exist. That presumed natural states of being; of being a woman, of being in a heterosexual monogamous marriage, are actually the impositions of hegemonic structures into individual personhood. For Lotte, seeing these structures for what they are, from an external perspective such as Malkovich’s, allows her to disavow them or imagine a life beyond them.
“This portal is mine and must be sealed up forever. For the love of God.” “With all due respect, sir, I discovered that portal. It’s my livelihood.” “It's my head, Schwartz!”
Being John Malkovich fundamentally illustrates both the invasive and intrusive nature of the ‘in-the-body-of’ experience for the subject, and the revelatory potential it poses for the audience. By the end of the film we see Malkovich himself totally erased by the other characters in the film. He is held prisoner in his own body, as others control it as they see fit, in the end completely taking him over till he, as an individual, no longer exists. Conversely, in the final scene of the film we also see Lotte and Maxine now together and raising a family. These characters had individualised, finally freeing themselves from their previous incarnations as mere tropey 1 dimensional adjuncts to the male characters around them; downtrodden housewife and manipulative femme fatale respectively.
There is already extensive ethical debate about the nature of the documentary subject; the ethics of one subject's story comes to stand in for that of many, and of audiences voyeuristically witnessing the suffering from the comfort and distance of the screen, of othering and exploitation and so on. Virtual Reality documentaries obviously exist within these debates, however there is undoubtedly an added complexity that the embodied nature of the VR documentary brings to these questions of ethics. Because of the level of presence, or feeling of ‘really being there’ elicited by a VR experience, there is a much more of a self-oriented or self-reflective response generated in the audience.
Through Lotte’s experience in Malkovich we can see how powerful that experience may be, how world-view-altering. Perhaps ultimately this is, or should be, the aim of documentary. To irrevocably break the viewer from their current world view, particularly if that world view directly or indirectly perpetuates the suffering of others. Despite ample critique, Milk’s work and many others undoubtedly were created with the noble aim of humanising the ‘refugee crisis’ and in many ways they have been successful, used in fundraising and policy changing efforts. Fundamentally however these works do not challenge audiences to question their individual roles and responsibilities within that crisis, save a general “feeling of humanity”, nor challenge the ideology that creates such crises in the first place. Just as with Malkovich, these works also run the very high risk of erasing the individual subject in service of the self actualisation of the ‘empathetic’ viewer.
In conclusion, this reading of Being John Malkovich for me poses some provocation for future works of VR documentary exploring in-the-body-of, and related genres in the medium. More challenging than merely writing off these works as fundamentally exploitative and unethical would be to question how to utilise the perspective of another to draw attention to destructive and harmful ideologies and structures that generate global suffering. Just as Lotte’s gains a new perspective on heteronormativity, her gendered experience and her own identity by looking at her own life through the eyes of Malkovich, how can VR audiences become aware of their own participation and maintenance of harmful structures of power. How can this potential of the medium be explored whilst we also heed the films bleak warning of the existential destruction of ‘the other’ (Malkovich), and our own humanity (which Maxine escapes, and Craig succumbs to), when we use others as mere puppets for our own self discovery.
