In the Still of the Moment: Deleuzes

Phenomena of Motionless Time

Corry Shores

Bilkent University

Abstract
A process philosophical interpretation of Deleuzes theories of time
encounters problems when formulating an account of Deleuzes
portrayal of temporality in The Time-Image, where time is understood
as having the structure of instantaneity and simultaneity. I remedy
this shortcoming of process philosophical readings by formulating a
phenomenological interpretation of Deleuzes second synthesis of time.
By employing Deleuzes logic of affirmative synthetic disjunction in
combination with his differential calculus interpretation of Spinozas
and Bergsons duration, this phenomenological interpretation portrays
time as given to our awareness in immediacy rather than through
a continuous process of unfolding. The viability of this alternate
approach calls into question the claims that Deleuze is strictly a process
philosopher and anti-phenomenologist.
Keywords: Deleuze, time consciousness, phenomenology, Bergson,
cinema

I. Introduction
Husserls and Merleau-Pontys analyses of time-consciousness portray
phenomenal time as flowing continuously on account of a progressing
synthesis that blends the moments of our awareness.1 Their accounts are
suited for a description of temporality as it appears to us as a flowing
succession, for instance when time seems to drag on slowly while we
are bored waiting for a bus or train. Yet, does time always appear to
Deleuze Studies 8.2 (2014): 199229
DOI: 10.3366/dls.2014.0143
Edinburgh University Press
www.euppublishing.com/dls

200 Corry Shores

us as an extending, continuous flux? Consider for example when we
look in the mirror and for the first time suddenly notice signs of our
aging. In that shocking instant, we do not feel the gradual passage of
some number of years; rather, we are given those years all at once in
a phenomenal flash. So, it seems temporal phenomena are not always
continuous, and thus our phenomenological analyses of time would
benefit from a description of non-flowing temporal appearings. We will
examine how Deleuzes cinematic examples of motionless temporality
illustrate the disjunctive synthesis of virtually simultaneous moments
that are given instantaneously. Our account runs contrary to process
readings of Deleuzes time syntheses, as for example the one we find in
James Williamss recent book Deleuzes Philosophy of Time: A Critical
Introduction and Guide. According to such a process-philosophical
reading, Deleuzes time syntheses cannot be instantaneous; for, processes
require more than one moment to transpire. So, one of the reasons
Williams excludes Deleuzes second cinema book The Time-Image from
his account is because it says the past and present synthesise each instant
(Williams 2011: 162).
Nonetheless, The Time-Image is quite useful for phenomenologists
who wish to analyse temporal appearings, because cinematic experiences
are uniquely able to present to our awareness a little time in its
pure state. So, by first examining Deleuzes notion of instantaneous
becoming, we will find that The Time-Image builds upon Deleuzes
earlier treatment of the second synthesis in Difference and Repetition,
rather than contradicting it as the process interpretation would argue.
Thus, a danger we risk by reading Deleuzes temporal synthesis solely in
process terms is that it limits our ability to obtain the phenomenological
value of Deleuzes philosophy of time.

II. Motionless Becoming: The Logic of Intensive Temporality

To explore the basic logic of Deleuzes motionless temporal synthesis,
we will first follow his treatment of Lewis Carrolls Alice in Wonderland
at the very beginning of The Logic of Sense. Deleuze refers us here to the
scenes when Alices size increases, so that he may illustrate the pure
event of becoming. As Alice becomes larger, she of course becomes
larger than the size she just was. But in that same stroke, she is as
well growing smaller than the size she is now becoming: as she movestoward a larger size, this motion is a movement into another relation, in
this case, a relation with an even larger size. In this way, the pure event
of becoming places before and after past and future together as two

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Figure 1. Alice becoming larger and smaller simultaneously. (Source: adapted

from Carroll and Tenniel 1866.)

incompatible but coincident states of affairs. Before and after, in this

way, become simultaneous (Figure 1):
When I say Alice becomes larger, I mean that she becomes larger than she
was. By the same token, however, she becomes smaller than she is now.
Certainly, she is not bigger and smaller at the same time. She is larger now;
she was smaller before. But it is at the same moment that one becomes larger
than one was and smaller than one becomes. This is the simultaneity of a
becoming whose characteristic is to elude the present. Insofar as it eludes the
present, becoming does not tolerate the separation or the distinction of before
and after, or of past and future. It pertains to the essence of becoming to move
and to pull in both directions at once. (Deleuze 1990a: 3/9)2

In a strange way, the pure event occurs between before and after,
yet also somehow the two are simultaneous. We will explain this through
Deleuzes distinctions between intensity and extensity. Note that when
Deleuze discusses Spinozas duration and affect in a class lecture from
1981, he offers a description similar to his account of pure becoming.
In this Spinozistic context, an affection is the instantaneous effect of
an image of a thing on me (Deleuze 1981). So, consider if we first see
our enemy Peter and then turn our head and notice our charming friend
Paul. Here we are affected by a succession of images that with each
instant increases our power of acting (Deleuze 1978). Our affections are
always varying continuously in this way like waves or curves, but at any

202 Corry Shores

Figure 2. Finding instantaneous velocity.

one given moment, we experience an instantaneous affection, which is

the degree to which we are tending to increase or decrease in power.
Deleuze, building from his calculus interpretation of Spinozas diagram
of infinity, portrays the instantaneous affection as being something
like a curves tangent that has been found by using the infinitesimal
analysis of Leibnizs early calculus techniques (Deleuze 1981).3 So
lets first consider how we may use differential calculus to determine
instantaneous velocities, because this will aid us in understanding what
Deleuze means by instantaneous affection. We could graph a curve
showing an accelerating increase in velocity (the change in distance per
the change in time). We can then determine the average velocity within
an extent of time by drawing a line that connects the points on the
curve at the beginning and at the end of the delineated time interval.
Now, by using a technique from infinitesimal calculus, we can bring
together the distant points along the curve keeping in mind the degree
of change between them until they are infinitely close, that is, until
only an infinitely small amount of distance lies between them (Figure 2).
The line that the infinitely close points now draw is the tangent, which
tells us how fast the object was tending to go in that instant. This is its
instantaneous velocity at that moment along its motion.
To explain the duration involved in instantaneous affection, Deleuze
turns to the phenomenon of passage in Bergsons duration:
you can consider psychic states as close together as you want in time, you can
consider the state A and the state A
, as separated by a minute, but just as well
by a second, by a thousandth of a second, that is you can make more and more
cuts, increasingly tight, increasingly close to one another. You may well go to
the infinite, says Bergson, in your decomposition of time, by establishing cuts
with increasing rapidity, but you will only ever reach states. (Deleuze 1981)

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

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Figure 3. Using infinitesimal calculus to find instantaneous affection.

Deleuze draws a parallel between Bergsons psychic states and

Spinozas levels of affection. As we noted, things affect us in ways
that either increase or decrease our power, and these changes are
continuously varying. At an instant of our affection, we are at some
level of power. But from one instant to its immediate successor, there is
no temporal gap extending between them; however, there is an intensity
of change that we experience as the phenomenon of passage. Bergsons
and Spinozas duration, according to Deleuze, is found between instants
brought infinitely close together. He explains:
duration is always behind our backs, it is at our backs that it happens. It is
between two blinks of the eye. If you want an approximation of duration:
I look at someone, I look at someone, duration is neither here nor there.
Duration is: what has happened between the two? Even if I would have gone
as quickly as I would like, duration goes even more quickly, by definition,
as if it was affected by a variable coefficient of speed: as quickly as I go, my
duration goes more quickly. [. . . ] A
, A, A

; A is the instantaneous affection,
of the present moment, A
is that of a little while ago, A

is what is going
to come. Even though I have brought them together as close as possible,
there is always something which separates them, namely the phenomenon
of passage. This phenomenon of passage, insofar as it is a lived phenomenon,
is duration.4 (Deleuze 1981)

Deleuze interprets the continuous variation between the curves in

Spinozas circle diagram in his 12th letter, The Letter on Infinity, to
be like an infinite series of instantaneous affections. So, we might depict
this using a curve and tangent like we did when finding instantaneous
velocity (Figure 3).
Thus, duration here is not merely something occurring over the course
of a series of moments but can rather be what happens between moments

204 Corry Shores

brought infinitely close together such that no time extends between them.
Duration in this sense is a matter of the extensive simultaneity of a
before and an after, whose differential relation implies an intensive
succession, an intending or inner tension from the incompatibilities
between before and after. Because no extent of time separates before
and after, they temporally coincide, extensively speaking; however,
after intends or is striving to extend past before with a certain degree
of intensity, just as the moving body is tending to go at a certain velocity
in that instant.
Deleuzes logic of synthesis, then, will allow for the temporal
convergence of before and after without their assimilation. We call
it logic here, because it makes use of the logic of exclusive disjunction;
yet, also involved are what he considers Leibnizs alogical concepts,
compossibility and incompossibility. They are alogical, because they
are not matters of identity and contradiction, which apply only to
what is possible and impossible (Deleuze 1990a: 196/201). Yet unlike
Leibniz, for Deleuze the incompatibility or incompossibility of states
of affairs is the condition for events to occur. If at any instant all the
states of affairs in the world were compatible or compossible, then
there are no conditions in the world calling for resolution, and hence
everything might be at rest or in redundant motion. Or as for Leibniz,
all events would be precalculated in advance by God on the basis of
the compossibility of monads predicates. Yet as Bergson notes when
discussing mathematical predictions of future eclipses, this strips the
series of events of their temporal character by placing all forthcoming
occurrences together simultaneously in that single calculation (Bergson
2001b: 1947/14950). So, compossibility does not account for how
events unfold through time. But if time and becoming are real, then every
instant would need to contain incompossible states of affairs whose
incompatibilities on the one hand provide the motive force for bringing
about alterations in the succeeding moment while also on the other hand
leave indeterminate and un-precalculable these future events.
So recall the prior example: as Alices size increases, she becomes
larger and smaller than herself. But, it is logically impossible that she
be larger and smaller than herself. Her largerness and her smallerness
can only coincide in the case when she is caught in the act of changing,
when her growth is the intensive degree of variation between infinitely
close moments. So the combined states of affairs, Alice is larger than
herself and also she is smaller than herself, is a logical impossibility
and can never actually be so. Yet, Alice becomes larger than herself
and in the same stroke she becomes smaller than herself are not so

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

205

much impossible when combined as they are incompossible, meaning

that throughout her continuous growing, these states of affairs really
do coincide, but they cannot stay that way for longer than a fleeting
instant. If they remained so for longer than an infinitely short moment,
the becomes of becomes larger and smaller turns into the is of is
larger and smaller, which we said was impossible. Thus, for as long
as her largerness coincides with her smallerness, there will necessarily
be a forthcoming successive moment when either she keeps growing
(transforming her given largerness into a smallerness related to a new
largerness) or she stops growing (causing her smallerness to cease being
smaller than another larger size, because there will be no larger size that
she is attaining to).
For Deleuze, incompossible states of affairs are combinable on
account of a synthesis, namely, what he calls affirmative synthetic
disjunction. In an exclusive disjunction, either A or B can be true,
but not both. However, in Deleuzes synthetic disjunction, A and B are
not compatible states of affairs, yet both are affirmed and coincident.
There is a classic example in the field of intensional logic and semantics
that will illustrate. Oedipus had every reason to believe he was not the
criminal bringing the curse upon Thebes. Yet, there arrived a moment
when it became undeniable that he was the man who killed his father and
married his mother. In that transitional moment, Oedipus affirms two
incompatible states of affairs: that (1) he could not possibly be his wifes
son and yet nonetheless that (2) he did indeed marry his mother.5 And
also, at this moment in the tale, Oedipus undergoes an instantaneous
alteration, an intense moment of becoming, changing from great king to
blind vagrant. Just as his both being the son and not the son of Jocasta
are simultaneously affirmed in the moment of transition, so too is his
being both the king and an exile of Thebes. The logic of affirmative
synthetic disjunction, then, allows for the coincidence of before and
after in pure becoming.

III. The Second Synthesis of Time

Mementos can cause our minds to flash back to an earlier time. These
moments, which have fallen away to the past, appear now to our current
awareness. And yet we do not mistake them for the present; in fact,
we might even be charmed or perhaps shocked by how different things
once were. What we notice, then, is not merely the past state of affairs;
we are aware as well of the temporal differences that make them so
foreign to the present. Thus, flashbacks can serve as a fertile source for

206 Corry Shores

Figure 4. Innermost circuit of Bergsons memory circuit diagram. (Source:

adapted from Bergson 1911: 128.)

the investigation of time as a phenomenon, that is, for when time its very
self appears to our awareness. We now explore the way Deleuze explains
Bergsons pure past through cinematic flashbacks. This will allow us to
characterise the second synthesis of time in Difference and Repetition as
being the then of the past combined with the now of the present; the
intensive temporal difference between them is a phenomenon of time.
Deleuze turns our attention to Bergsons expanding circuits diagrams
to help explain the contemporaneity of the past and the present in
flashback recollections. Bergson first has us consider what he calls an
after image (image conscutive). It is always a part of our perception.
We look at some object, then abruptly avert our gaze to another place.
For a split second, the image of the initial object will carry into and
overlay upon the new scene we see (Bergson 2001a: 125/105). The prior
object remains in our field of perception, even though it is actually no
longer there. Instead, it is virtually there. The virtual past image inserts
itself so thoroughly into the new actual image that we are no longer
able to discern what is perception and what is memory (125/106).
Perhaps this is why fast moving objects leave a blurry trail behind them.
For example, as David Hume notes, when we rapidly swing around a
burning coal in the dark, we perceive a full red circle (Hume 2007:
28). According to Bergson, just while the perceived image is sent to our
brain, the most recent image in our memory has already arrived upon
and overlaid our current perception, with both moving lightning fast in
a continuous circuit (Figure 4) (Bergson 2001a: 127/107).
So when we are looking at something, already mixed into this
perception are the remnants from the prior perception. This is the
tight OA circuit in Bergsons diagram. Keep in mind how time is

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

207

Figure 5. A successive memory-perception circuit. (Source: adapted from

Bergson 1911: 128.)

ever-passing, so even if what we perceive seemingly remains unchanged,

it will still differ from what we just saw. The flow of time leaves
its mark on the prior image, giving it the character of having-passed
(Bergson 1922: 2/2). A new OA circuit always arises each instant of
our perception, no matter how noticeable the variations are in what we
see. But then, we might wonder, what happens to the even older images
as the new ones continue entering our memory? Bergson says they get
pushed out into wider and more encompassing circuits (Figure 5).
When we turn away our gaze, what was previously object O now
becomes what we call past-object B
. (Former object O is not actually
there, but it is a part of the past that is implied in what is actually
present.) All the while, memory-image A has become what we now call
memory-image B, which corresponds to the past-object B
that it is an
image of. This is all because a new object O and its new memory A
have entered our perceptual awareness. But note how in the diagram, the
wider B circuit channels into the new OA circuit. This is because both
the most recent memory-image and the next most recent one together

208 Corry Shores

Figure 6. Growing memory-perception circuits. (Source: adapted from

Bergson 1911: 128.)

overlay upon our field of perception, even though we might not notice
the two. In a way, our older memories still keep contracting with the
present, but only in an implicit manner. So even if the previous afterimage is no longer vibrantly apparent to our perception, it still is helping
to shape the way we see the current image. This is important for Bergson,
because the whole of our past is at least implicitly superposed into
our present experience. In truth, writes Bergson, every perception is
already memory. Practically we perceive only the past, the pure present
being the invisible progress of the past gnawing into the future (Bergson
2001a: 194/163; original emphasis).
With this in mind, we might imagine how the circuits of our
perception continue billowing outward as time passes on. The older
circuits keep enlarging as our perception alters perpetually (Figure 6).
Yet even though all of our past is always interposed in the present
in an implicit way, sometimes what we see causes one recollection to
stand out more explicitly among the rest. Often we observe something
in our daily life that causes certain prior memories to flare out before
our minds eye (Figure 7). And sometimes our flashbacks can be so
vivid that they drown out the actual things we see. We then begin to feel
as though we are reliving that past experience.
Deleuze illustrates these recollection circuits with the cinematic
flashbacks in Marcel Carns movie Daybreak (Le Jour se lve, 1939)

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

209

Figure 7. Flashback as not excluding other layers of memory. (Source:

adapted from Bergson 1911: 128.)

(Deleuze 1989: 48/46/678). The film follows events happening from

sundown to dawn. During this short period, a murderer flashes back
into his past. The movie begins with a man being shot and falling down a
flight of stairs in an apartment building. The murderer barricades himself
in his room so that the police cannot force their way in. Throughout
the night he has three flashbacks, each one triggered by some visual
reminder. This first one takes us back to him meeting a young woman he
falls in love with. This flashback loop draws us the deepest into the past,
so it would correspond to one of the widest circles in Bergsons circuit
diagram. But, whenever we return to the present, we hear a heavy doomfilled bass and drum beat. It gives us the feeling we are moving inevitably
toward a fatal end. So during the flashbacks, the past is so vibrant that it
completely covers over the actual present things standing before him in
his room. As viewers, we only see what he is remembering and not the
events still carrying on in the present while he dreams. But, because upon
returning we hear that fatal march toward the end, we are reminded that
even while reminiscing, we never escaped the current doomed situation.
Throughout our own lives, we are always experiencing the combination
of the past and present, no matter how attentive we are to the present
or how vibrantly the past flashes into our mind. The events of the
murderers next flashback, then, continue after those of the prior one,
so it is a smaller circuit closer to the current inner loop. Here we learn
more about the rivalry he has with an older man over the young woman.
When we return from this flashback, day breaks, and his building is
surrounded by police and a crowd of spectators. He rages at them from
his window high above, furious that they would treat him like a freak.

210 Corry Shores

This outburst triggers him to recall his explosion of anger that led to the
murder he just committed last night. In this final flashback, we now see
him shoot the love rival in his room. The victim falls down the stairs, just
as we saw when the film began. This is the tightest recollection circuit so
far. It brings us to his final act, in the present: he shoots himself in the
heart. In a way, this is like all the painful events of his life contracted
into his current action.
Now, consider if we were to memorise a series of spoken lines for
a play. Each time we practise it, we create a new individual memory.
When it comes time to perform, we merely begin with the first word,
and the rest seem to follow automatically, without our needing to recall
any single rehearsal. All the previous times were contracted into that
present moment of automatic habitual bodily performance. But after the
show, someone might ask us about how we memorised the lines. Then
we could relax and daydream about those moments, seeing them in their
vivid detail (Bergson 2001a: 8992/758).
Bergson illustrates this with his famous cone diagram. As new things
enter our memory, they add to a cone (Bergson 2001a: 1967/1623).
If we are acting automatically, like when performing something we
rehearsed, then we are down closer to the S point. Being near this tip does
not mean our memories have gone away. Rather, they are all contracted
into our physical actions, like how a performance expresses physically
all our memories of past recitals. When instead we daydream about the
past, the images expand out in our minds, as during a flashback. In these
moments, we reside at a higher layer of the cone. Always we are varying
somewhere between automatic action and dreamful reflection, so we
might be at any of the many possible layers of expansion or contraction
of our memory (Figure 8) (Bergson 2001a: 21012/1768).
So during flashback scenes, the characters memory leaps up to a
higher level. But during an action scene where she acts automatically, her
memory is contracted into the present moment, down at the cones tip.
We are always changing level, varying melodically between our intense
physical engagement in the present moment and our drifting somewhere
in dreamland (Deleuze 1994: 834/11314). So the larger circuits are
more distant memories, and the higher cone levels are increased degrees
of expansion of one part of those memories.
The cone levels and the circuits are not equivalent, but we might place
them in correspondence by noting that when moving to a distant circuit,
we are also expanding our memories. To illustrate this, we first observe
one of Deleuzes references: Bazins explanation of Carns flashback
techniques. Bazin notes how in literature, action happening in the past

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

211

Figure 8. Varying layers of memory expansions that are contemporaneous

with the present. (Source: adapted from Bergson 1911: 211.)

can be described by using past tenses of a verb. However, in film there

is no easy way to clearly demarcate past and present events, especially
ones happening in the same locations, because they will look about
the same when projected on the screen. In Daybreak, for example, the
hero has his final flashback while sitting in his room, and it takes him
back to the events the day before also happening in that very place.
The table as it is there now appeared about the same the day prior.
So Carn must convince our eyes that the story is moving in and out
of the past even though the scene looks nearly identical in both cases.
Bazin observes that when a scene shifts between the present and the past
events recalled in the mind of the hero, Carn uses an exceptionally long
dissolve where the image of the previous scene fades out little by little so
as to allow the next image to gradually fade into clarity. The dissolve
has the effect of recreating the way we physiologically experience a
transition to recollective daydream: our eyes become fixed, our pupils
enlarge, and the images we see become blurred as our imagination grows
more vibrant (Figure 9) (Bazin 1998: 7880).
The other sort of flashback Deleuze discusses is Mankiewiczs
forking or bifurcation (Deleuze 1989: 489/47/68). We noted before
how incompossibility for Deleuze is prerequisite for an event to occur.
In terms of forking, this means that events take place when they veer off
down an unforeseen path, yet as we will see, this also means that at the
moment of divergence, circumstances have multiple virtual tendencies of
development that were incompossible with one another. Such forkings
for Deleuze also correspond to a sort of flashback that unites past,
present and future into a single instant. Thus, bifurcations not only
introduce newness into our lives, they also are partly responsible for
the continual coexistence of the before and after in our experiences.
When there is an unforeseen forking, this event is momentous; it is
memorable even while it is still happening. We can tell already that we

Figure 9. Transitioning vibrancy from flashback memory-images to perception-images in Carns Daybreak (1939). (Source:
images on the left of each still adapted from Bergson 1911: 128, 211.)

212 Corry Shores

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

213

Figure 10. The indeterminacy of variation at a birfucation point. (Source:

based on a figure in Prigogine and Stengers 1984: 161.)

will recall it often in the future. So from the beginning it appears to us as

a memory for future recollections. But also, these events are momentous
for another reason. They cause us to recall another event in the past,
lighting up one of the various circuits in our memory.
The two senses of bifurcation are tightly bound together. To illustrate,
Deleuze refers us to a scientific model from Prigogine and Stengerss
Order Out of Chaos (1984) (Deleuze 1989: 49/47/69). Imagine that
we are running a faucet at a low enough level of flow that the water
falls in a straight column. We then very gradually increase the flow
until suddenly, when we reach a critical moment in the increase, the
smooth column becomes chaotically turbulent. To further describe these
sensitive transition points in complex systems, Prigogine and Stengers
quote J. C. Maxwell:
the system has the quantity of potential energy, [. . . ] which cannot begin
to be so transformed till the system has reached a certain configuration, to
attain which requires an expenditure of work, which in certain cases may
be infinitesimally small, and in general bears no definite proportion to the
energy developed in consequence thereof. For example, [. . . ] the little spark
which kindles the great forest, the little word which sets the world a fighting,
[. . . ] the little spore which blights all the potatoes [. . . ]. (Maxwell, quoted in
Prigogine and Stengers 1984: 73)

But, there are systems that when reaching such a singular point can
develop in one of two different directions of qualitative evolution. For
example, in certain chemical systems, if you increase one parameter, such
as the concentration of one chemical, the system is pushed further and
further away from a state of equilibrium. If pushed far enough, it reaches
a bifurcation point where, for instance, the spatial distribution of that
chemical can follow one or another opposite path of configuration, with
the choice being entirely unpredictable (Prigogine and Stengers 1984:
1612) (Figure 10).

214 Corry Shores

Figure 11. Multiple indeterminate branching variations. (Source: based on a

figure in Prigogine and Stengers 1984: 170.)

In fact, in some complex systems, there can be bifurcations of

bifurcations. As Deleuze writes, each of the forkings constantly split
up any state of equilibrium and each time impose a new meander, a
new break in causality, which itself forks from the previous one, in a
collection of non-linear relations (Deleuze 1989: 49/47/69). Prigogine
and Stengers explain that
the historical path along which the system evolves as the control parameter
grows is characterized by a succession of stable regions, where deterministic
laws dominate, and of instable ones, near the bifurcation points, where
the system can choose between or among more than one possible future.
(Prigogine and Stengers 1984: 16970) (Figure 11)

Deleuze further elaborates on the structure of simultaneously

branching paths with Borgess short story, The Garden of Forking
Paths (1962) (Deleuze 1989: 49/47/68). It describes a Chinese monks
unfinished manuscripts for a novel with this same title. The novel went
unpublished because it was incomprehensible. The chapters did not
proceed just sequentially. A following chapter would be like an alternate
version of the same prior one: in the third chapter the hero dies, in the
fourth he is alive (Borges 1962: 24). Each of these variations is like one
of the possible paths the chemical system can choose; however, in the
case of the novel, the story chooses all possible lines of development at
the same time:

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

215

the garden of forking paths was the chaotic novel [. . . ] forking in time,
not in space. [. . . ] In all fictional works, each time a man is confronted with
several alternatives, he chooses one and eliminates the others; in the fiction
of Tsui Pn, he chooses simultaneously all of them. He creates, in this
way, diverse futures, diverse times which themselves also proliferate and fork.
(Borges 1962: 26)

Thus:
all possible outcomes occur; each one is the point of departure for other
forkings. Sometimes, the paths of this labyrinth converge: for example, you
arrive at this house, but in one of the possible pasts you are my enemy, in
another, my friend. (Borges 1962: 26)

For this reason, the structure of the novel is

an infinite series of times, [. . . ] a growing, dizzying net of divergent,
convergent and parallel times. This network of times which approached one
another, forked, broke off, or were unaware of one another for centuries,
embraces all possibilities of time. We do not exist in the majority of these
times; in some you exist, and not I; in others I, and not you; in others, both
of us. (Borges 1962: 28)

In Mankiewiczs Barefoot Contessa (1954), there is a remarkable

scene that showcases both senses of bifurcation (the veering off into a
new direction and the simultaneity of alternate lines of development)
(Deleuze 1989: 49/47/68). The soon-to-be Contessa quite abruptly
switches companions, taking her down a drastically different path.
But this scene was remembered by two different people, each in their
own way and with their own slight variations. Each recollection of the
event occurs at a different time in the movie, and they have their own
unique camera angles and divergent details, even though the dialogue
is the same. What we note especially is the sudden instant of the slap,
that crack in the flow of time, when the next moment is completely
undetermined, entirely discontinuous with the present. But we also
observe the simultaneous forking paths: in one recollection, the slapped
man looks longer to the Contessa after the slap, while in the other case,
he quickly looks to the Count (Figure 12). So there are two sorts of
temporal simultaneity in that dramatic moment: (1) the Contessas prior
course and the new detour converge upon one another at the moment of
the slap, bringing before and after together all at once; and also (2),
there is a simultaneity of the different perspectival renditions of the same
course of action.

216 Corry Shores

Figure 12. Mankiewiczs Barefoot Contessa (1954). Top: the Count slaps the
soon-to-be Contessas current lover, causing a fork in the storys development;
bottom: the subsequent deviation in the story is remembered with slight
variations by different people (left and right).

Now, is it not also the case that when we recall the past, we often
fill in missing details that we were previously unsure about, and in that
way create bifurcations of the same remembered event? Each time we
recall some incident, the recollection seems to vary slightly from the
other times when we remembered it. If it were exactly the same with
each recollection, then would it not be a sort of automatism on account
of the boring redundancy? Perhaps these memories have the character of
the past not merely because they differ from the present but also because
each recollection differs from the others. That might suggest that when
a memorable bifurcation occurs, implied in it are many virtual ways to
recall it.
We will keep this in mind while examining another of Deleuzes
examples of bifurcating time: Mankiewiczs A Letter to Three Wives
(1949) (Deleuze 1989: 49/47/68). In this story, there are three married
couples. All the husbands share a common female friend, Addie.

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

217

One day, she writes a letter to all three wives, which they read together.
Addie explains she ran off with one of their husbands. However, she
does not specify which man it is. The wives will be unable to find out
until later that night when they see if their husband comes home to
them. During that day, each wife reflects on her marriage, looking for
what might have gone wrong in the past. So the unpredictable forking of
receiving the surprising letter spurs each one to flash back to a moment
in the past where their relationship seemed to take a turn (or fork) for
the worse. A forking in the present, then, recalls a different forking
in the past. In one case, a wife, new to her social circle, feels out of
place. Then at a dinner event, she suddenly happens upon her husband
and Addie chatting privately outside in the dark. We can see in the
wifes face that she recognises even back then there is some implicit
importance to this event, even though it is not yet evident. So, the
present forking event of receiving the letter calls her mind back to the
previous forking when she discovered her husband chatting outside in
the dark with Addie. But then later in the story, she receives a message
that seems to confirm her suspicions, although it is still ambiguous, and
she makes that same facial expression again, linking all three moments
together. Hence, the present bifurcation is not just a flashback; it also
in a way is preparing itself for future recollections, by having implicit
and indeterminate significances that might later unfold through another
dually recollective and precollective forking. Thus, we see even further
how bifurcational flashbacks render befores simultaneous with afters
(Figure 13).
Yet, these cinematic examples show the union of particular past
memories with actual present ones. The second synthesis of time,
however, involves an even more basic simultaneity of before and after.
But, first we need to observe the danger of seeing time as initially an event
happening purely in the present, then secondly moving into the past. The
problem is that the past itself has a temporal character that is different
from that of the present. Seeing a past event merely as a former present
is regarding the past as a modification or as a degree of the present. Yet,
if the past and present are different in kind, then the past is not just a
former presence; it has a temporal character all its own. Daybreak begins
in the present, with the hero having just shot his love rival. At the end of
the film, that same initial event is recalled with the moments just leading
up to it. But throughout the movie, we come to see the heros loving,
calm and patient side. His murder, with all its violent passionate anger,
loses its character of actual presence, as moments of calm humanity take
its place. It is an act he cannot change, unlike how he is in control of his

218 Corry Shores

Figure 13. A wife in Mankiewiczs A Letter to Three Wives (1949)

experiences three bifurcational moments, the middle of which being dually
both a recollection and a precollection.

current actions, as for example his own willing decision to kill himself
at the end. Present moments somehow become radically different sorts
of moments in time, not as being less present but as being something
real that is recalled in the present as a moment completely different than
the present one. The past has something relatively established about it,
while the present is more indeterminate.
This poses two problems for explaining memory. One is that the
present moment in a way disappears from presence, in that it ceases
to be an influenceable and active present, and yet all the while it still
exists in another form, with its own unique temporal character and
traits that differ in kind and not in degree from the present in passage.
So, it is not even a matter of the present fading away, becoming less
of a present. The present becomes something it is not, the past. But
how can this radical transition be explained if it is not a graduated
continuous modification? Yet also, if there is exclusively the present
that abruptly becomes past, then we have another similar difficulty in
explaining memory. As a present moment goes deeper into the past, if the
change is continuous, then it remains tied to the present moment it once
was, because in a way, it still is that present, only in a diminished form.
But if after succeeds before without any overlap or graduated change

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

219

between them, then passing moments have no actual connection to the

present they once were. The murder at the beginning of Daybreak ceases
to be. The viewer and hero are constantly living through a changing
present. But, the ending recollection of the murder is presumably tied to
a present that we experienced at the films opening. So, how does the
passing present maintain its recollective correspondence to the present
it once was, if the transition is abrupt and the former present ceases to
exist? According to Deleuze, Bergsons solution to these problems is the
past in general (le pass en gnral) (Deleuze 1991: 569/515; Deleuze
1994: 812/11011). Bergson himself, however, does not frequently use
this specific phrase. In one of the rare instances, Bergson writes:
Whenever we are trying to recover a recollection [. . . ] we detach ourselves
from the present in order to replace ourselves, first in the past in general,
then in a certain region of the past a work of adjustment, something like
the focusing of a camera. But our recollection still remains virtual [. . . ]. Little
by little it comes into view like a condensing cloud [. . . ]. (Bergson 2001a:
171/148; my emphasis)

Deleuze and Deleuzian Bergsonists, according to Mathew Kelly,

interpret this to mean that there is a general past that is coexistent
with the present, as would be suggested by the cone diagram, and
that present events have a dual character, being both past and present
simultaneously (Kelly 2008: 20). It is important to broaden the analysis
from the particular pasts as in the cinema examples to the past in
general, because the second synthesis is not so much a process of actively
overlaying past memories synthetically with present events; rather, the
simultaneity of past and present is already inherent to the structure of
our immediate temporalised consciousness. It is not just that a present
moment passes into the past while its virtual memorial content remains
in our consciousness. No moment, not even the first in our lives, is able
to pass unless it did not already begin in the past in general. So the
general past is a prerequisite for the passage of the present:
How would any present whatsoever pass, if it were not past at the same
time as present? The past would never be constituted if it had not been
constituted first of all, at the same time that it was present. [. . . ] The past
is contemporaneous with the present that it has been. (Deleuze 1991: 58/54;
original emphasis)

Or as Deleuze further puts it, past and present, before and after,
are crystallized together. Bergson speaks of crystallisation when
elaborating on his cone diagram, discussing the general idea, whose
essence is to be unceasingly going backwards and forwards between

220 Corry Shores

the plane of action and that of pure memory (Bergson 2001a: 220/180).
In the cone diagram, the general idea at point S would take the clearly
defined form of a bodily attitude or of an uttered word, but at the top
layer AB, it would wear the aspect, no less defined, of the thousand
individual images into which its fragile unity would break up (see again
Figure 8) (220/180). Yet, the general idea does not remain fixed at either
extremity; rather, it consists in the double current which goes from
the one to the other, always ready either to crystallize into uttered
words or to evaporate into memories (221/180). Here Bergson is not
using crystallize in exactly the same sense as Deleuze uses it. For
Bergson, it refers to the condensation of memory down into current
bodily expression. Yet, note that this crystallisation happens at the tip
of the cone, at the immediacy of action, where the entirety of our
memory makes direct contact with the present instant of our actual
bodily activity. It is not that some memories are further up in the cone
while others are found lower within it. Each layer has every memory;
but in the higher cuts, the memories are more expanded into discrete
images. Down at the tip, all memories are still being expressed, just
none are regarded in their distinction from the others. This is like how
when finally performing a practised piece, the musicians fingers do not
express each prior recital individually; rather, the movements express
all past enactments together at once in the present motion. Deleuzes
crystallisation, then, is not so far off from Bergsons meaning of the term,
because for Deleuze it is the intensely tight union of the past in general
with the immediate present. Deleuze also speaks of this interlocking of
the past and present as being two contracted but divergent tendencies,
like with Bergsons symmetrical jets of time. Bergson notes that the
formation of memory is never posterior to the formation of perception;
it is contemporaneous with it. Step by step, as perception is created, the
memory of it is projected beside it, as the shadow falls beside the body
(Bergson 1920: 157/138). Memory, then, is twofold at every moment,
its very up-rush being in two jets exactly symmetrical, one of which
falls back towards the past whilst the other springs forward towards
the future (Bergson 1920: 160/140). To illustrate, Deleuze suggests his
own diagram in Cinema 2: The Time-Image (Figure 14).
Deleuze writes that this fundamental operation of time is what
constitutes the crystal-image:
since the past is constituted not after the present that it was but at the same
time, time has to split itself in two at each moment as present and past, which
differ from each other in nature, or, what amounts to the same thing, it has
to split the present in two heterogeneous directions, one of which is launched
towards the future while the other falls into the past. Time has to split at the

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

221

Figure 14. Deleuzes diagram for Bergsons double jets of time, with
additional description. (Source: based on a figure in Deleuze 1989:
295/285/109.)
same time as it sets itself out or unrolls itself: it splits in two dissymmetrical
jets, one of which makes all the present pass on, while the other preserves all
the past. Time consists of this split, and it is this, it is time, that we see in
the crystal. [. . . ] We see in the crystal the perpetual foundation of time, nonchronological time [. . . ]. (Deleuze 1989: 81/79/1089; original emphasis)

Thus, the present moment immediately self-distinguishes itself:

What we see in the crystal is therefore a dividing in two that the crystal itself
constantly causes to turn on itself, that it prevents from reaching completion,
because it is a perpetual self-distinguishing, a distinction in the process of
being produced; which always resumes the distinct terms in itself, in order
constantly to relaunch them. (Deleuze 1989: 812/79/109; original emphasis)

This self-distinguishing will be important later when we examine

Kamlers Chronopolis (1983). For now, we note Bergsons example of
paramnesia or dj vu, the illusion of already having been there. As well
in this description we find his other rare usage of past in general, for
he writes that in such a false recognition of paramnesia, the illusory
memory is never localized in a particular point of the past; it dwells
in an indeterminate past, the past in general (Bergson 1920: 137/119).
Deleuze emphasises here that because dj vu is both a recollection of
a presumed past but also a direct perception of the present, there is
a recollection of the present, contemporaneous with the present itself
(Deleuze 1989: 79/77/106; my emphasis). Deleuze then refers us to a
number of filmed musicals with dream sequences that resemble dj vulike recollections. These memories do not recall real events in the past,

222 Corry Shores

Figure 15. The dreamlike past in general. Left: Minnellis Yolanda and the
Thief (1945); right: Minnellis The Band Wagon (1953).

but rather they merely have the feeling of the past as if given presently,
although in a dream-like way. The colours are vibrantly bright yet with
a pastel softening; and while the scenes depicted are fantastical, they,
like dreams, vaguely and indirectly play out the dramatic tensions going
on during that part of the storys progress. We see this, for example, in
Minnellis Yolanda and the Thief (1945) and The Band Wagon (1953)
(Figure 15). This unspecified past in the dream scenes, then, illustrates
the present memorial facet of Bergsons past in general.
But, if the present moment is unique from the past, then duration
also involves injections of radical difference and newness into present
action. To help us conceptualise this, Deleuze refers to scenes in works
by comedic performer, actor and director Jerry Lewis, where the chaotic
forces of variation reverberate through his body and the world around
him (Deleuze 1989: 656/623/8890). These forceful energies produce
new phenomenal data that push duration forward by infusing it with
waves of original differential content. Consider, for example, how
Lewiss body spasmodically collides with a malfunctioning, catastrophic
world around him in Whos Minding the Store? (1963), The Patsy (1964)
and Its Only Money (1962) (Figure 16).
Recall how the present instant is always in a state of self-distinction:
it is both the moment that it is tending to become while also being
the moment that is right on the verge of passing away. Now consider
Deleuzes analysis of the creation of temporality in a Polish animated
film: In [. . . ] Chronopolis, Piotr Kamler fashioned time out of two
elements, small balls manipulated with pointed instruments, and supple
sheets covering the balls. The two elements formed moments (Deleuze
1989: 105/1012/1378; original emphasis). Notice he speaks here of
forming moments, and not a flow of time, and also not an extending

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

223

Figure 16. Jerry Lewis and catastrophic world variation. Top: Tashlins Whos
Minding the Store? (1963); middle: Lewiss The Patsy (1964); bottom:
Tashlins Its Only Money (1962).

224 Corry Shores

passage of time. When the two elements make contact, some new variation results in the sheets of clay. The figure, with each contact, becomes
something different (Figure 17). But, it does so by changing from what
it already was. What it was, and what it is becoming its before and
its after coincide with each moment of contact, because the figures
always seem to be in-between different and unique formations.
The portrayal of time in this scene is not the extending and flowing
passage of duration through which the changes happen, like how each
frame of the movie-film blurs together with its neighbours. Each moment
is a variation; all are bifurcations, because not everything in each
moment is explicitly predictable in the prior one. Synthesis is found
completely in each single frame alone, where the before is being
synthesised simultaneously with its after. So even though there is a
steady flow of alteration throughout this sequence, in any one created
moment, there is already the temporality of becoming.
Deleuze also offers Ozus still life scenes as examples of images of
the pure form of time:
The vase in Late Spring is interposed between the daughters half smile and
the beginning of her tears. There is becoming, change, passage. But the form
of what changes does not itself change, does not pass on. This is time, time
itself, a little time in its pure state [. . . ] The still life is time, for everything
that changes is in time, but time does not itself change [. . . ] Ozus still lifes
endure, have a duration, over ten seconds of the vase: this duration of the vase
is precisely the representation of that which endures, through the succession
of changing states. A bicycle may also [. . . ] represent the unchanging form of
that which moves, so long as it is at rest, motionless, stood against the wall
[. . . ]. The bicycle, the vase and the still lifes are the pure and direct images of
time. (Deleuze 1989: 17/1617/278)

The daughter has been reluctant to marry, because this would leave her
widowed father all alone, creating too much drastic change in both his
and her lives. Yet in this scene, she consents to her fathers wishes, and
decides in fact that she will marry. However, at that moment of her
decision, Ozu shows the still life scene of the vase. This grand climactic
moment of the films narrative is substituted by a pure visual stillness.
We feel an intense dramatic change while perceiving a motionless image.
The actual events coming before and after are not present in the still life,
but they are both implied in the same still image, because this transition
point in the story marks the most drastically different before and after.
We feel in this moment the coincidence of before and after in their
motionless simultaneity (Figure 18).

Figure 18. A daughter makes a life-changing decision, but at the peak the drama, Ozu shows a still life image of a vase, in
his Late Spring (1949).

Figure 17. Before collides each moment with after as ball-tipped sticks mutate sheets of clay in Kamlers Chronopolis (1983).

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

225

226 Corry Shores

IV. Conclusion
So contrary to time as an extending process in motion, we have instead
a still image of time. James Williamss process interpretation was able
to explain the second synthesis of time, Bergsons pure past, as it is in
Difference and Repetition, but not as it is in Cinema 2: The Time-Image,
where time is evidently a matter of instantaneity and simultaneity.
For Williams the problem is that the cinema books fall short of a
satisfactory rendition of Deleuzes philosophy of time, and so we should
not consider them as a principle source when accounting for Deleuzes
notion of temporality (Williams 2011: 161, 163). What we instead
propose here is that the process reading alone provides an unsatisfactory
account of Deleuzes philosophy of time, because it is unable to bring
together Deleuzes major writings on temporality, and also it does not
do justice to their phenomenological value. And Deleuze, a life-long
cinephile, tells us that when studying philosophy, cinema was a major
part of his intellectual endeavours: after the war, I started going to the
movies again, but this time I was a philosophy student. [. . . ] It was not
a matter of applying philosophy to cinema. I just went straight from
philosophy to cinema and back again (Deleuze 2006: 2834/2634).6
So, would we be surprised if throughout his life Deleuze developed his
ideas on temporality while he watched and studied films, and only later
in his career devoted entire books to the art form?7 There seems to be
reason enough to regard Deleuzes Cinema 2: The Time-Image as a core
resource for investigating his theory of time. And as we have seen, it is in
this text that Deleuze gives a buggered reading of Bergsons duration.
Deleuze saw his task of reading texts in the history of philosophy as
interpreting them in such a way that they give birth to monstrous
offspring that are really the product of that philosophers thought, while
at the same time being in some way alien to it (Deleuze 1995: 6/15). In
the case of his reading of Bergson, Deleuze uncovers a sort of temporality
that is fully given even before there is the motion of succession. Because
Deleuze refers us to specific cinema scenes, we can actively experience
the collisions of images that give us impressions of still temporality.
Also, because we are given these impressions, Deleuzes explication of
motionless time is of particular interest to phenomenological analyses. In
Carns Daybreak, when the hero returns from a flashback, images of the
past collide with those of the present, and the tensions between them give
us the viewers the impression of the time in-between. This is time given
to our awareness as a phenomenon. And Deleuze provides the theoretical

Deleuzes Phenomena of Motionless Time

227

material for concrete analyses of this sort of motionless time that is

intensive, rather than flowing and extensive. Thus, phenomenology
could expand its analyses of time consciousness to include a different
sort of temporal phenomenon, if it takes note of Deleuzes writings on
cinema.

Notes
1. For Husserls analyses of the consciousness of the flowing succession of time,
see for example the lectures from the year 1905 in Husserl 1991/1966a:
745 and from this texts Supplement, paragraphs 152, 567, 239, 2523,
25763, 2724, 31325. The continuous running-off of retentions along with
the horizontal integration of retentions, intentions and protentions constitutes
time-consciousness in its unbroken flow. For more on the passive synthesis of
moments of our awareness combined on the basis of associating similarities,
which constitutes the continuity of the flow of phenomena, see Husserl 1974:
3708; 1966b: 135, 6578, 11748; 2001: 2772, 10621, 16295. MerleauPonty builds from Husserls horizontal integration model of time-consciousness
and characterises the flow of phenomenal time as a thrust of transition synthesis
(synthse de transition/bergangssynthesis): there is time as [. . . ] a fountain: the
water changes while the fountain remains [. . . ]; each successive wave takes over
the functions of its predecessor: from being the thrusting wave in relation to the
one in front of it, it becomes, in its turn and in relation to another, the wave that
is pushed; [. . . ] from the source to the fountain jet, the waves are not separate;
there is only one thrust . . . ]. Hence the justification for the metaphor of the river
(Merleau-Ponty 1958: 48990/484).
2. In parenthetical citations, the pages for the English version are given first and
the French second, with the exception of Deleuzes Cinema 2: The Time-Image,
where we give the first English edition first, the second English edition second
and the French edition third.
3. The first and second chapters of Simon Duffys The Logic of Expression:
Quality, Quantity and Intensity in Spinoza, Hegel and Deleuze (2006) give an
excellent, detailed account of Deleuzes calculus reading of Spinozas 12th Letter.
4. The prime-markings for the As are based on the French transcription by Denis
Lemarchand at La Voix de Gilles Deleuze en ligne (< http://univ-paris8.fr >)
rather than on the one at < http://webdeleuze.com > . See either the Gallica
bibliothque numrique (< http://gallica.bnf.fr >) or the Voix de Gilles Deleuze
recordings, part 2, at around 07.50 minutes.
5. In his Metalogical Theory of Reference: Realism and Essentialism in Semantics,
Roger Vergauwen offers a formulation of this example. Consider the following
inference (1) Oedipus wants to marry Jocasta, (2) Jocasta is the mother of
Oedipus, thus (3) Oedipus wants to marry his mother. If we only look at the
extensional meanings, the normal denotations of the expressions, this is a valid
inference. But, if we consider the intensional meanings that are more context
dependent, this is not a valid inference (Vergauwen 1993: 278).
6. Michel Ciment describes Deleuze as being a cinephile already in 1956 (Dosse
2010: 1056).
7. This idea along with numerous others in this article (for example, time as
difference, and the non-redundancy of recollection) are the contributions of
Roland Breeur of the University of Leuven, Belgium.

228 Corry Shores

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