Trainspotting - Watching While Flat on Your Back

I teach Danny Boyle's brilliantly directed film Trainspotting in a number of my film courses on the topic of British Cinema and transnationalism (how the film appeals internationally). This is most notable in the film's famous opening "Choose Life" sequence over Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life." Here, American music is played alongside the national/regional of Edinburgh.

Trainspotting is one of a number of films of the 1990s (Pulp Fiction, Permanent Midnight and Basketball Diaries) that explores the dangers of heroin use. A point I brought up in my class is how frequently Renton (Ewan McGregor) is shown lying on his back, particularly when shooting up heroin and how it pertains to being a trainspotter.

In Murray Smith's fantastic BFI book, he explains the various meanings of "trainspotting." He writes: "To be a trainspotter-in the literal sense-is to stand for hours, in the same place, watching trains go by. To board a train is to go somewhere, to move on" (17). 

When Renton decides to stop using heroin, he quickly stands up and "chooses life." After his near death experience from overdosing on heroin, Renton goes through a harrowing experience of withdrawl. He then moves to London to better his life.

And then Begbie (Robert Carlyle) shows up at his door. Begbie, as Murray Smith points out, is a dark and frightening depiction of "new lad" culture.

Begbie's arrival at Renton's flat demonstrates the film's engagement with fate. Here, we can see a dimension of film noir at work in Trainspotting. Renton can choose life, but he did not choose Begbie arriving at his doorstep who happens to be on the lam for armed robbery.

The third act of film entails Renton, Begbie, Sick Boy and Spud orchestrating a drug deal, which lands them 16 thousand pounds. But instead of sharing the money four ways, Renton steals the money and flees. Though, he does leave Spud some money.

Trainspotting's depiction of heroin is both comical and frightening. In many ways, it is a neo-noir film not unlike Fight Club or Requiem for a Dream. Perhaps more frighteningly is Renton's clownish expression as he returns the gaze at the end of the film. Renton is choosing life again. But has he really changed? Here, Renton's distorted expression is reminiscent of the ending of A Clockwork Orange when Alex (Malcolm MacDowell) says "I was cured all right." Of course, the ludovico technique did not work for Alex. And choosing life might not work for Renton.

And let's not forget that Renton switched Tommy's sex tape with his girlfriend with his greatest soccer goals video cassette. This event leads to the break up of Tommy and his girlfriend, which leads to Tommy doing heroin for the first time and then dying of AIDS.

Renton never acknowledges or shows remorse for playing a role in Tommy's death. During the scene when Tommy is dying, Renton happens to be kicking a soccer ball near a poster of Iggy Pop, Tommy's favorite musician. But ultimately, Tommy chose to do heroin.

Indeed, Renton is an unreliable narrator, whether he's lying on his back and high on heroin while life passes him by, or choosing life...

The Lacanian Gaze and Psycho

The Lacanian gaze is one of the hardest concepts I teach for my Film Theory course. The way we commonly think of the gaze (to look) is not what Jacques Lacan argues. Rather, he argues that when we encounter the gaze, we encounter an impasse, a blind spot within the field of vision. But more importantly, in order to encounter the gaze, you must be invested in the film. When we encounter the gaze in cinema it demonstrates the activity of our unconscious desire. So what does that mean? And why is the gaze is not defined as the look?

One of the best examples of the gaze (from Slavoj Zizek and Todd McGowan) can be found in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960). After Marion (Janet Leigh) has been murdered by "mother" in the shower, Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) cleans up the mess. Notice how long it takes for Norman to clean the bathroom. This is important because Hitchcock is a laying a trap for our encounter with the gaze.

After Norman cleans the bathroom, he place Marion's body in the trunk of her car and drives out to the swamp near his motel. Norman pushes Marion's car into the swamp. Norman anxiously watches the car as it begins to sink. Suddenly, for a brief moment the car stop sinking. I always ask my students what their reaction was when the car stops sinking. Their response: they want the car to sink. How does this happen? Why are we suddenly complicit in Norman's cover up of the murder?

This is the moment when we encounter the gaze. The gaze demonstrates your unconscious desire at work in the film. This is why film form is so important to understand in studying the gaze in cinema. In my book Cinema of Confinement, I explain how directors set up these types of cinematic moments such as the swamp scene in Psycho. They are designed so that we encounter the shocking impact of the gaze.

An example I use is the final sequence in Alien (1979) when Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) learns that the alien sneaked aboard the escape shuttle. The way in which director Ridley Scott films this scene sets up the viewer for an encounter with the gaze--namely, when Ripley shockingly discovers the alien. We think Ripley has defeated the alien, which is emphasized when she says: "I got you, you son of a bitch." Even the soothing musical score suggests that Ripley is safe. But as we know, she is far from safe. Alien's final scene is so scary because of the way Scott lays a trap for us to encounter the gaze. This is why it is important that Hitchcock show us all the details of Norman cleaning up the murder in Psycho. He is a laying a trap for the gaze: when the car stops sinking in the swamp. That's when we all go "Oh shit!" You're now siding with Norman's cover up of Marion's death.

 

What does the gaze tells about how we watch movies? First, it demonstrates how our unconscious desire is at work when we watch a movie. And we can locate the activity of desire through cinematic form. Second, you must be invested to look in the movie, otherwise you are less likely to encounter the emotional impact of the gaze. Lacan's example of Hans Holbein's painting The Ambassadors explains this point.

As you observed the painting, you see the riches that surround the men. But when looking  toward the bottom of the painting, there is a stain. When looking awry, you see that the stain is a skull that looks back at you.

 

The skull embodies the gaze. But you have to be invested in looking at the painting in order to discover the skull. When we encounter the skull, it takes our desire into consideration. Likewise, when Marion's car stops sinking in the swamp in Psycho, we have a visceral reaction, demonstrating that we are complicit in Norman covering up the murder. It illustrates how our desire is at work in the film.  

The gaze is the moment when our seeing falls apart. Yet it is these moments in cinema, such as Ripley seeing the alien aboard the ship and Marion's car that temporarily stop sinking in the swamp, that draws us to the movies.