Koutsourakis, Angelos

University of Queensland eSpace

Film-Philosophy 19 (2015): Book Reviews 
www.film-philosophy.com 19 
 
 
Review: Ian Aitken (2012) Lukácsian Film Theory and Cinema: 
A Study of Georg Lukács’ Writing on Film 1913-1971, 
Manchester: Manchester University Press, 272 pp. 
 
Angelos Koutsourakis 
University of New South Wales 
 
Nineteen years have gone by since the publication of David Bordwell and 
Noël Carroll’s Post-Theory: Reconstructing Film Studies (1996). The 
central premise of that book was that the axioms that had pervaded 
politicised and psychoanalytic film criticism of the 1970s no longer held 
relevance on account of political and historical changes in the global sphere. 
In many respects, the idea of ‘post-theory’ accorded with the early 1990s 
naïve historical determinism as put forward by the advocates of ‘the end of 
history’ (see Fukuyama, 1992). According to Bordwell and Carroll, theory 
should leave behind the formulations of the ‘grand narratives’ of Marxism 
and other large theoretical schemas. ‘Scientific’ reasoning should replace 
abstract theorising in order to look for ‘piece-meal theory’ (Bordwell 1996: 
29), which would offer particular answers to concrete questions. The thrust 
of ‘post-theory’ was that film theory should not rely on authority figures, but 
should instead investigate the narrative/representational processes that might 
not have any political or ideological implications. An important 
contradiction arises here in the sense that while Bordwell and Carroll named 
their book Post-Theory they still argued in favour of a new theoretical 
approach to film studies. One also needs to acknowledge that Bordwell’s 
own formalist work on cinema, when at its best, can provoke remarkable 
theoretical questions (see, for example, Bordwell 2005). 
The word ‘theory’ derives from the Greek verb θεῶµαι, which means ‘to 
see from above’ (from the same verb derives the words θέατρο/theatre and 
Θεός/god). Having defined the noun, the logical question that results is 
‘who is the one who is theorising/viewing from above?’ With regard to 
present concerns, the question that results is ‘from which viewpoint are 
piece-meal film theorists going to provide answers to particular problems?’ 
In other words, it is the very commitment to a theory grounded in political 
neutrality that was problematic in Bordwell and Carroll’s proposition; the 
very word ‘theory’ poses the problem of ‘point of view’ – a term which is 
indubitably important for studies in film narrative. Therefore, while 
Bordwell and Carroll (to an extent correctly) accused 1970s film theory of 
being too totalising, their answer to this question was a different form of 
totalisation, which returned to a ‘universal spectator’ who processes certain 
narratives irrespective of cultural, political and historical differences. This 
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model draws on concepts of homogeneity that do not account for the very 
issue of viewpoint, which is the central premise not only of theory, but of 
the practice of problem solving, which they too considered important.  
For Marxism, the issue of ‘viewpoint’ is discussed with respect to the 
broad-spectrum social conditions and relationships that have an effect on all 
aspects of social activity, including art. From this perspective, the ways in 
which we represent the world do not appear ex nihilo, nor do the ways in 
which we process certain objects – but both are in fact also part of particular 
historical and material conditions. The task, therefore, of Marxist criticism 
has always been the investigation of the ways in which certain objects can 
give precedence to these conditions and liberate human imagination and 
perception from the shackles of banality and conformism. 
György (Georg) Lukács was one of the most important proponents of 
Marxist criticism and while much ink has been spilled on his writings on 
literature, his ruminations on film art are relatively unknown. Therefore, Ian 
Aitken’s Lukácsian Film Theory and Cinema successfully fills this scholarly 
gap – and one of its great merits is that it provides a clear and analytical 
account of Lukács’ writings on film and the ways in which they resonate 
with his literary essays as well as with his Marxist hermeneutics.  
Before going into the book’s treatment of Lukácsian film theory, 
however, a series of introductory remarks on Lukács’ political and literary 
theory are in order. Lukács stressed that Marxism can be valid political 
theory on the condition that it does not simply foreground political change, 
but instead becomes a theory of knowledge which can bring about change. A 
crucial aspect of Lukács’ Marxism was his understanding of ‘totality’. 
Totality designates a synecdochic understanding of social reality, in which 
each aspect of social reality cannot be understood on its own, but as part of 
a series of interconnections. As he says: 
  
Only in this context which sees the isolated facts of social life as aspects 
of the historical process and integrates them in a totality (sic.), can 
knowledge of the facts become knowledge of reality (sic.). This 
knowledge starts from the simple (and to the capitalist world) pure, 
immediate, natural determinants described above. It progresses from 
them to the knowledge of the concrete totality, i.e., to the conceptual 
reproduction of reality. This concrete totality is by no means an 
unmediated datum for thought. 
The concrete is concrete, Marx says, because it is a synthesis of many 
particular determinants, i.e. a unity of diverse elements. (Lukács 1968: 8-
9) 
 
Lukács’ political theory shaped his reflections on art, and in a similar vein 
he praised objects that could expose the totality of social and political 
relations. How can one achieve this? According to Lukács this is feasible by 
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using as prototypes the bourgeois novelists of the nineteenth century, such 
as Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Honoré de Balzac. Critical to Lukács’ fondness 
for these literary figures was their ability to represent the ‘socially typical’. 
A writer who represents the socially typical can connect individual 
narratives with the broader social totality. In his formulation of Balzacian 
realism, Lukács quotes Friedrich Engels to define realism as ‘the 
reproduction of typical people under typical circumstances’ (cited in Aitken 
2012: 50).  
The modernist critique of representation argued in favour of objects that 
break with conventional representational forms so as to lead to new 
understandings of reality – and as a result to produce realism. Lukács, on the 
contrary, rejected modernist artefacts, including the works of Bertolt Brecht 
and Franz Kafka (though later he positively re-evaluated their works). What 
Lukács saw in modernism was ‘an exaggerated concern with formal criteria’ 
(Lukács 1962: 17), which failed to represent the social totality. Modernism 
was reproached for representing social alienation as a ‘universal’ 
phenomenon, while for the realists like Leo Tolstoy, against whom 
modernism reacted, alienation is historically defined. Reflecting on the 
characters of Tolstoy and Gustave Flaubert, Lukács intimates that ‘the fate 
of such individuals is characteristic of certain human types in specific social 
or historical circumstances. Beside and beyond their solitariness, the 
common life, the strife and togetherness of other human beings, goes on as 
before’ (Lukács 1962: 20). The modernist fragmentation produced for 
Lukács ahistorical narrative agents who seemingly did not develop from 
their interaction with the social reality, but as if they were ‘thrown into the 
world’. It is on account of this Geworfenheit (thrownness) that Lukács 
criticised modernist negation, for he suggested that this negation could not 
be understood historically. It is an ‘abstract gesture’ which does not propose 
any alternatives on how to overcome the impasse (Lukács 1962: 29). 
Contrary to what many scholars tend to think, Lukács was not dogmatic 
and he constantly reassessed his previous positions, even his critique of 
modernism – and both Lukács’ undogmatic thinking as well as his 
intellectual openness are evidenced in his writings on cinema. His theory of 
film clarifies the fact that Lukács was not simply a committed ‘anti-
modernist’ (as is generally maintained), nor a proponent of an Orthodox 
socialist realism aesthetic. Instead, Ian Aitken’s fascinating book, his latest 
on cinematic realism (for earlier examples, see Aitken 2001 and 2006), 
clarifies Lukács’ broader theory of realism in relation to film narrative.  
One of the advantages of the book is that it brings together Aitken’s 
thought-provoking analysis of Lukács’ writings on film with Lukács’ own 
essays/interviews on cinema, some of which have been relatively unfamiliar 
to English-speaking scholarship. Aitken’s analysis is significant, not only 
because it introduces the reader to Lukácsian film theory, but also because it 
points to a set of contradictions within Lukács’ thought. For example, in his 
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discussion of the philosopher’s early aesthetic, Aitken elaborates on Lukács’ 
understanding of cinematic realism, which produces knowledge. But rather 
than falling into the binary categories of form versus content that 
characterised some of Lukács’ literary essays, Aitken explains how Lukács 
suggests that ‘knowledge about reality is not gained primarily through either 
rational or “intuitive” reflection, but through empirical and sensual 
encounter with the “seamless succession” of the film images’ (20). Aitken 
also lays out the importance of the cinematic sequence in establishing a 
temporal flow that gives access to the ‘absolute reality of the moment’ (23). 
Interestingly, Lukács’ early thoughts on the medium are very much 
concerned with medium specific issues, as well as with formal elements that 
have preoccupied conflicting theorists such as Brecht, Walter Benjamin and 
Gilles Deleuze. For instance, Aitken brings to light the importance that 
Lukács attributed to the ‘deanthropomorphising’ specificity of the moving 
image, which differs from everyday perceptual experience. Film produces 
‘fantastic life’, which shall not be discounted, but connected with the social 
reality. As Aitken says: ‘editing techniques can overturn physical causality 
itself, and present an illogical and rational world’ (24). But, film images can 
also draw attention to the concrete Lebenswelt (living world) so that ‘even 
though the image in the film shot is a fantastic image it is still related to 
living life in this respect’ (24). Later on, Aitken explains how Lukács saw 
cinema as a medium whose efficiency lies in the production of events and 
gestures and not as a medium reliant on drama communicated through 
language (184). Again, the connection with theorists of modernity 
demonstrates the complexity of Lukács’ thought as well as the importance 
he assigned to the study of the new medium. 
While the second chapter focuses on Lukács’ critique of modernism and 
his understanding of narrative as a means of coming to terms with a 
concrete historical reality, the third chapter focuses on his late aesthetic and 
film theory. Again Aitken raises a set of interesting antinomies, 
foregrounding Lukács’ conviction that film will overcome its propensity for 
fragmentation and commit itself to the depiction of social particularity and 
totality, thereby revealing the dialectical relationship between individuals 
and the Aussenswelt (outside world). Lukács brings as an example Charlie 
Chaplin, a favourite artist for Brecht and Benjamin, who praised him for the 
very same reasons, namely his ability to connect the inside with the outside. 
Lukács says that Chaplin offers an ‘absolutely valid expression to the 
ordinary man’s feeling of isolation against the context of the machinery and 
apparatus of modern capitalism’ (97). Film’s capacity to capture the real in 
its dialogue with social totality is also one of the reasons why Lukács extols 
films from the Italian neorealist tradition. 
As Aitken explains, a critical concept in Lukács’ theory is the notion of 
Stimmungseinheit, a term that evokes concepts of organic unity and 
completeness. In his formulation, Lukács argues that Stimmungseinheit in 
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cinema can link emotions with concrete ideas, and here he sets as an 
example the practice of Sergei M. Eisenstein and V.I. Pudovkin. Ultimately, 
Lukács’ theory of film reflects his disappointment with the failure of the 
Eastern bloc alternative and with Stalinist terror. This influences his 
aesthetic theory, which is now orientated towards a ‘socialist humanism’, 
which is more concerned with producing ‘human meaning’ rather than 
formal experimentation. The experience of the Stalinist terror in the East 
along with the capitalist manipulation in the West made Lukács critical of 
films interested in the production of shock effects. As Aitken suggests, 
Lukács debunks the modernist aspiration to produce knowledge by means of 
shock, since shock becomes an end in itself and ‘neutralises any utopian 
potential’ (132). In this context, despite his respect for films like 
Bronenosets Potemkin/Battleship Potemkin (Sergei M. Eisenstein, USSR, 
1925) and their ability to construct a counter-public sphere, Lukács argues 
in favour of a more standardised ‘shock-free’ realist aesthetics (which 
paradoxically belong to the modernist canon too, and which can make us 
rethink the realism versus modernism debate). His examples include Miklós 
Jancsó’s Szegénylegények/The Round Up (Hungary, 1965) and András 
Kovács’s Hideg napok/Cold Days (Hungary, 1968), both of which played a 
central role in the formalist/political modernist criticism of late 1960s 
France and early 1970s Britain.  
Indeed, Lukács’ dedication to texts that reveal the social totality was not 
only relevant then, but also now, at a time when scholarship tends to 
dissociate ethics from politics, and the industrial from the political, and/or 
when it explores the ways audiences perceive things without considering the 
fact that visual perception and the production of knowledge are also 
contingent on historical and political processes. Aitken’s book outlines 
Lukács’ theory with acute intellectual competence, making connections with 
the philosopher’s political and literary writings and bringing to our attention 
a wealth of resources and secondary references. In the conclusion Aitken 
convincingly points out that there is not one Lukácsian theory. The latter’s 
writings have Marxist and Leninist echoes, but there is also an idealist 
Lukács whose aesthetic theory wanted to put the individual at the centre, so 
as to assist her/him in overcoming her/his alienation. Furthermore, Aitken 
has generously translated Lukács’ film writings, which will become a 
reference point for many English-speaking scholars. Lukácsian Film 
Theory and Cinema addresses both the scholarly and the university 
classroom markets, and can provide readings for multiple courses on film 
theory, politics and representation, cinematic realism and film and 
philosophy. This book adds to a list of recent stimulating and diverse 
publications on film theory, such as Robert Sinnerbrink’s New Philosophies 
of Film: Thinking Images (2011), the late Miriam Bratu Hansen’s Cinema 
and Experience: Siegfried Kracauer, Walter Benjamin and Theodor W. 
Adorno (2012), and D.N. Rodowick’s Elegy for Theory (2014), which prove 
Film-Philosophy 19 (2015): Book Reviews 
www.film-philosophy.com 24 
that theory is still alive and that it can make us understand the historical, 
political and philosophical questions brought about by the very specificity 
and haecceity of film as medium.  
 
References 
 
Aitken, Ian (2001) European Film Theory and Cinema: A Critical 
Introduction, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 
 
Aitken, Ian (2006) Realist Film Theory and Cinema: The Nineteenth 
Century Lukácsian and Intuitionist Realist Traditions, Manchester: 
Manchester University Press, 2006. 
 
Bordwell, David (1996) ‘Contemporary Film Studies and the Vicissitudes of 
Grand Theory’, in David Bordwell and Noël Carroll (eds.), Post-Theory: 
Reconstructing Film Studies, Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 
pp. 3-37. 
 
Bordwell, David (2005) Figures Traced in Light: On Cinematic Staging, 
Berkeley: University of California Press. 
 
Bordwell, David, and Carroll, Noël (eds.) (1996), Post-Theory: 
Reconstructing Film Studies, Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. 
 
Fukuyama, Francis (1992), The End of History and the Last Man, New 
York: Maxwell Macmillan International.  
 
Hansen, Miriam Bratu (2012) Cinema and Experience: Siegfried Kracauer, 
Walter Benjamin and Theodor W. Adorno, Berkeley: University of 
California Press. 
 
Lukács, György (1962) Realism in our Time: Realism and the Class 
Struggle. New York, Evanston: Harper and Row. 
 
Lukács, György (1968) History and Class Consciousness. Cambridge, 
Massachusetts: MIT Press.  
 
Rodowick, D.N. (2014), Elegy for Theory, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard 
University Press. 
 
Sinnerbrink, Robert (2011) New Philosophies of Film: Thinking Images, 
London: Continuum. 


Review: Ian Aitken (2012) Lukácsian film theory and cinema: a study of Georg Lukács’ writing on film 1913-1971, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 272 pp.

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Review: Ian Aitken (2012) Lukácsian film theory and cinema: a study of Georg Lukács’ writing on film 1913-1971, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 272 pp.

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