Casting an eye over recent publications in the humanities, one cannot help but be struck by the proliferation of studies titled 'images of...' or 'representations of ...' Yet such discussions of representation are curiously absent when it comes to examining those who actually produce such writings--namely intellectuals. I will argue here that there are a number of reasons for this reluctance to discuss the intellectual image as opposed to their role and status. Discussion of the latter has in fact expanded exponentially over the last two decades with the decline in power and status of the Western intellectual. I will argue further that film, for a number of reasons, provides an excellent point of entry into a discussion of the representation of the intellectual. Although an investigation combining the intellectual image and film might initially appear a somewhat rarefied exercise, further examination reveals an enormous, indeed an overwhelming, wealth of material. As a result, discussion will be limited here to a rather arbitrary and select group of films and will focus particularly on the issue of 'bodies'. Even within these limitations, there are no claims here to do more than briefly touch the surface of some of the questions raised. (1)

The current obsession with 'representations' might seem to confirm the gloomy observations of Baudrillard, Kristeva and also teledramatist Dennis Potter that we live in a dream like world of trance inducing images in which previously well defined lines between 'reality' and its representations have become distressingly blurred. (2) Nothing has any real substance beyond its flickering shadow on the wall of the cave, or to update the metaphor, on a multitude of movie, television and computer screens. The very word 'screen' says it all. It is at one and the same time the site of shadowy projections of 'reality' as well as a protection from the harsh physicality, the 'bodies' of that 'reality'. There are indeed strong indications that would seem to suggest that something is indeed happening in the physical external world, but we can only mediate that reality through representation, and who is to say which or whose representation is the most legitimate? Since the deconstructive activities of that famous post-1960 generation of French thinkers, few believe any longer in the possibility of a transparent representation of the world, of a world where words and things can be perfectly synchronised. This is, of course, the whole dilemma commonly described as the postmodern condition. But it could equally well be argued that nothing has changed and that the lines between the material world and its representations or simulacra have never been clear. At different times in history, societies have merely expressed varying degrees of belief in the existence, clarity and porousness of those boundaries.

Yet somehow intellectuals themselves, who are the usual instigators of such exposés of illusion and rearrangements of words and things remain strangely silent on the subject of their own undecidability. As experts on the shadowy and mythical nature of all existence they still secretly seem to believe that they are the one real point of reference, that there is some residual truth in the rational project after all. If, in recent times, there has in fact been a small but significant body of work produced on intellectual 'lifestyles' and how intellectuals create and perform their own social identities and roles, (3) few of these writers discuss the matter of representations or images of intellectual bodies at any length.(4) Even Edward Said, in his 1994 collection of essays titled Representations of the intellectual uses the word 'representation' mainly in the sense of representing a political constituency or a set of ideas. Perhaps the closest attempt at a sustained analysis of the physical image of the intellectual is to be found in the work of French sociologist François de Negroni (1985). de Negroni undertakes a brief history of the French intellectual image--changing fashions in clothing, self presentation and culinary habits and in the frequentation of restaurants, bars and cafés.(5) He also analyses descriptions of the physical appearance of intellectuals in various nineteenth and twentieth century newspapers and journals.

For the most part, however, those writing about the intellectual continue to focus on the conduct and ethical construction of the intellectual within a stratified social body located in history. But even if intellectuals are willing to admit that their lifestyles are variable and that they, like other members of society, are engaged in a struggle for social distinction, there still remains the lingering belief that they have the facility to remain above it all, to maintain an ironic self awareness which makes them impervious, unlike all others, to the siren lures of images on a multitude of flickering screens. Perhaps after all intellectuals are not as much disabused of the Enlightenment project as they would like others to believe. They still retain a secret residual attachment to the Hegelian idea that the 'Rational is Real', that Reason is the best and only means to the Truth and as such, intellectuals are its privileged emissaries. It is a view which has been constantly reinforced since the eighteenth century by the special relationship that the intellectual has entertained with the state. The state that was created with the French Revolution was a rational entity. This entity relied on the mediation of intellectuals and state sanctioned teachers to educate the populace about its existence. As mediators between the state and the people, intellectuals were in a position of considerable power, which they lost once the state turned to the mass media and advertising to publicise its existence. (6) Intellectuals remain unable to reconcile themselves to this loss of power. They are loathe to see themselves as occupying a more modest position than the one they have occupied since the Enlightenment. It is difficult for them to recognise that instead of being the guides and truth sayers for the rest of society, they are simply one quite specific group amongst many involved in a collective effort to make sense of the world. If other sectors of the community have held this view of intellectuals for some time now, intellectuals, understandably, are still somewhat reluctant to make this vision their own.

If few books attempt to examine representations of intellectuals in general, there are to my knowledge no sustained studies of intellectuals in film. There are, however, some well known analyses of at least two professions which overlap with this category, namely scientists--or more specifically that much more fascinating variant mad scientists (Tudor, 1989)--and school teachers (Joyrich, 1995). The current investigation poses two immediate questions: first of all, how does one define that notoriously vague body, the intellectual? Secondly, does film, still a suspiciously populist, indeed anti-intellectual medium in the eyes of some, actually have anything of substance to say about intellectuals?

First of all, the problem of definition: one must begin by deciding who qualifies as 'intellectual'. Definitions of the term have been one of the perennial themes in the literature ever since the word first came into current usage at the end of the nineteenth century with the Dreyfus Affair. The broadest definition offered by the sociologist Alvin Gouldner (1978) is that an intellectual is someone who engages in 'intellectual work' as opposed to manual work--a definition it would seem, which immediately eliminates the body. This definition includes all white collar workers creating a category which is far too broad to be of much practical use in the current context and which is, incidentally, also far broader than the popular conception of the'intellectual'. Perhaps a more useful definition would see the intellectual as someone who uses reason, logos, or words to make sense of the world. Intellectuals are concerned with putting together argued chains of reasoning to directly explain or criticise the social and political order. He or she is also generally possessor of a certain 'cultural capital' even if this is not always sanctioned by recognised educational or cultural authorities.

This definition is by no means unproblematic either, as it in fact encompasses two separate if related notions. Generally, even within the confines of this more restricted definition there remains a division between 'researchers' and those designated more specifically as 'intellectuals'. What distinguishes the latter is their engagement with the social and political world. The physicist who quietly works in his or her lab and publishes in refereed journals is not necessarily regarded by his or her educated peers as an 'intellectual'. If however, this physicist emerges from his or her laboratory to make certain public statements about the implications of their research on the broader political and social scale (Einstein and Oppenheimer are examples), then they come to be regarded and described as an 'intellectual'. The term 'public intellectual' has often been adopted in the English speaking world to mark this distinction.

But coming from a more populist perspective, it is more likely to be simply 'cultural capital' or the dissemination of cultural capital which distinguishes the intellectual. To put it in its most raw form, an intellectual is someone who has read a lot, uses big words and often teaches for a living. This kind of image of the intellectual tends to be rather a cliché in popular mainstream film, but it is by no means the only image. Neither is political or social engagement always a feature of this type of intellectual--indeed the individuals included in this category often completely fail to engage with the rest of society beyond the display of a range of eccentric, extreme and socially maladaptive behaviours. Of course all these definitions open up an enormous field and can at various times include a wide range of occupations and professions--notably school teachers, university professors and researchers, students, artists, poets, novelists, journalists, lawyers, scientists, musicians, political activists, detectives (for example Sherlock Holmes (7) and Inspector Morse (8) and even spies. (9)

To turn to the second problem, can one say anything useful about the intellectual by focussing on the medium of film? Even if film and media studies have gained a certain degree of academic respectability, scholars engaged in film analysis tend to be regarded with suspicion by their colleagues involved in the more traditional disciplines of history, philosophy and sociology. The view is still widespread that only the printed word can provide the focus for really serious intellectual analysis. Indeed most of the focus in the training of intellectual elites is still via the written word. There is a far greater corpus and a longer history of written text to be analysed and the book is a far cheaper, more accessible and more transportable technology than film or television. Books cost less to produce and are therefore to some degree less subject to the constraints of marketing, finance and censorship than films. Added to this is the idea that film is synonymous with entertainment--an understandable notion given that the dominant producer of films on the world stage--Hollywood--has a strong commitment to this view of film. But with the recent explosion of the cheap video market, pay television and of numerous film and television data bases on the Internet, there has been a shift in emphasis in recent years. Popular culture has come to be more widely based on the sharing of television and cinematic culture than literary culture.

Even the most cursory survey of first year university students, reveals a far greater familiarity with film and television than with other forms of cultural production such as literature, art and theatre--let alone history or theory--demonstrating that it is not only the safely defined political and ideological systems with their accepted intellectual pedigrees and canon of texts that one needs to be aware of when it comes to social analysis. As Michael Ryan and Douglas Kellner (1988:14) argue in their useful book Camera politica:

The political stakes of film are ... very high because film is part of a broader system of cultural representation which operates to create psychological dispositions that result in a particular construction of social reality, a commonly held sense of what the world is and ought to be that sustains social institutions.

After a lifetime of watching Trek as the only vision of the future that most people were aware of, it's amazing to become aware of the belief suspension, until it seems like the 'real' future is the one with the Crayola uniforms and the communicators on the chest. ... Some of the reaction against Babylon 5 was so strong from some groups ofStar Trek fans [that it became plain that] it wasn't just one show vs another ... it was two ... competing visions of the future.

There is perhaps yet another reason why studies of the appearance of intellectuals in film are virtually non-existent and this brings me directly to the topic of bodies. Intellectuals are generally not perceived either by themselves or by others as fodder for visual representation: they come into existence via the printed or spoken word. One might indeed argue that the whole tendency of intellectual activity is to eliminate every last corporeal vestige of its production, to survive merely as words on a printed page or as a disembodied voice. One is reminded here of Foucault's famous statement in L'archéologie du savoir: 'probably more than one, like me writes so as no longer to have a face' (1969:28).

Both intellectuals and non intellectuals are only too willing to co-operate in this process but for entirely different reasons. If intellectuals wish to retain the Platonic purity of their ideas untainted by the corruption of the changing and ever decaying physical and social world, others wish to make the intellectual body as unattractive, clumsy and socially dysfunctional as possible, both to discourage people from listening to what the intellectual has to say and also to discourage them from joining their singularly unsociable and subversive ranks. Film, illusory and shadowy as it is, shows real bodies. The intellectual sits uneasily in this world and every effort (with a few notable exceptions) is made to minimalise or render unattractive that visible body.

I will now move on to show the intellectual in a number of filmic guises from three very different angles. First of all, I will discuss a perspective emerging from popular subculture which formulates the intellectual as pure brain without a body; then I will examine views from the 'high culture' end of the spectrum which show the intellectual and creative process from the 'inside', finishing with a brief examination of some more conventional, mostly Hollywood style takes on the unattractive and sexually incompetent intellectual body.

A particularly good example of the corporeal ambiguity of the intellectual can be seen in the famous scene alluded to earlier, from Star Trek: The Next Generation. The time is the twenty-fourth century and the setting is the Star Ship Enterprise careering at warp speed through the outer reaches of space. The scene opens with four men seated around a table playing poker. Or are they men? A closer examination reveals two dead scientists, Sir Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein, Data--an android or a constructed man--and Stephen Hawking not dead in the 1990s but presumably so in the twenty-fourth century. What is more, all three scientists in the scene are actually holograms created by a computer program: three human simulacra created by a computer at the command of another computer, the android Data. Further to this, the real body of Hawking is disabled--he can only move and communicate via a range of technical devices--all the result of the efforts of the human mind. Bodies are definitely not present at this feast of genius. Indeed, they serve as nothing more than the somewhat irrelevant and certainly very attenuated appendages for the brilliant brains present. This scene provides yet another confirmation of Roland Barthes' (1973:68) observations concerning the fetishisation of Einstein's brain in popular culture. Indeed, one might even argue that it is the computer which has the most functional physical presence in this scene.

Having suitably disposed of the bodies, I will now turn to the minds. Data refers to his guests as 'three of history's greatest minds'. A number of intellectuals, particularly those working in the humanities, might take issue with this description, but what it does display is a certain perception current in the popular consciousness that the most esoteric and elevated genius emerges in the fields of cosmology and advanced physics. This fits in with a residual ideology of scientism (an ideology which in fact totally pervades all the Star Trek series) where the purest and hardest sciences such as physicsand mathematics are closest to the truth. Added to this is the cosmological angle: these scientists are dealing with no less than the whole universe. Such intelligence is to be admired indeed. High altitude intellectual existence is also indicated by the enjoyment of technobabble jokes such as the one which opens the scene: jokes which no average mortal could even hope to understand. Further, genius will out in spite of the strictures and pettiness of social institutions. Sir Isaac Newton berates Einstein with not being able to do simple arithmetic, a reference to the famous fact that Einstein failed primary school mathematics. Newton himself forms an example of the cranky, anti-social intellectual, impatient of the trivialities of ordinary social interaction and everyday existence and interested only in his own research. (In actual fact, Newton became a recluse in the latter part of his life.) There is also an implied suggestion in the way this scene is so completely mediated via computer technology that to be truly 'intellectual' in the modern world one must resemble a computer. In short, this brief scene sums up a whole range of contemporary popular ideas and preconceptions about the intellectual in a most effective manner, not least of which is the maleness of these bodies before they become merely the ethereal supports of the brain.

At the 'high culture' end of the filmic spectrum an equally interesting take on the relation of the intellectual to the body emerges in the films of Alain Resnais one of the leading directors of the 'New Wave' cinema movement which emerged in the late 1950s in France. Resnais is often described, to his own annoyance, as an 'intellectual' film maker. In his 1980 film Mon Oncle d'Amérique, a sequence of interwoven stories based on the behaviourist theories of well-known biologist Dr Henri Laborit, the latter is introduced in a documentary style manner in the same way as the fictional characters. The camera work in the film also tends towards a flat 'documentary' style. This creates the curious effect of fictionalising the real scientist and at the same time rendering the fictional characters less fictional. Each character forms a case study which embodies on the screen the theories of Dr Laborit. But at the same time their status as 'case study' is undermined by the characters' attempts to give their own lives heroic meaning by identifying with actors in old films whom we see in brief flashes at dramatic points in the characters' lives. These complex and subtle tactics succeed in focussing attention on the constructed natureof the intellectual and scientific enterprises and of theoretical representation in general.

Even bodies become deformed as the lines between theory and events blur. One particular sequence opens in a laboratory where experiments are being conducted on rats. Dr Laborit explains in voice over that rats which are subjected to electric shocks in one compartment but are able to escape to the adjacent one remain in a perfect physical and psychological condition. As Laborit's didactic exposé continues, the scene switches to the fictional characters. A man in a suit with a white rat's head and a briefcase in one of his white paws walks out the door of his apartment to go to work leaving his discontented wife. The be-suited rat returns in the evening and embraces his wife. Back to the lab: the health of the rat who cannot escape the electric shock deteriorates, explains Laborit, but when two rats are placed in the same cage, they fight each other when subjected to the shocks. These rats remain healthy. But human socialisation prevents people from resorting to fight or flight strategies. Returning to the fictional characters, we see one in conflict with his boss in the office. He cannot resort to the option of violence as his boss would call the police (we see a brief scene with two ratmen in suits struggling with loud squeaks on a desktop) and he cannot leave, as he would face unemployment. (11) These brief surreal sequences transforming humans into rats also suggest in a manner that could only be performed in film, that when it comes to theory not only are 'fact' and 'fiction' interchangeable but concrete bodies are similarly interchangeable. There is no difference in Dr Laborit's theoretical framework between the bodies of rats and the bodies of people. All bodies are reduced to an identical abstraction by the universality of 'science'. The intense social inhibitions to which humans subject themselves merely make their bodies less efficient.

Another angle on the interrelation between artistic and intellectual creativity and bodies also emerges in Resnais' earlier English language film Providence co-written with the English playwright David Mercer in 1976. The film is an account of a restless night spent by a terminally ill writer as he imagines a novel in which his children are the main characters. As he admits himself at the end of the film he has lived a 'conventionally unconventional' life, doing all those things that the general public expect novelists and artists to do--especially womanising and drinking. He keeps his body alive by sheer effort of the imagination. As Resnais himself explains: 'He uses his imagination to continue living. If Clive Langham stopped imagining, his body would turn to dust in a few seconds' (Monaco, 1978:60). Yet that body keeps on interfering with his creation, it breaks in on the scenes. Langham becomes angry with his characters and has to tell himself to watch his blood pressure. As the night progresses and he imbibes increasing quantities of white wine, his characters are also to be seen in sitting rooms, verandahs, at the rifle range, in the rain outside a woodshed--ubiquitous glass of white wine in hand. Langham's failing brain and body also lead to the intrusion of unwanted images of autopsies and urban war zones into the thread of his story. Dennis Potter bases his 1986 television series The Singing Detective on very similar premises and one might speculate as to how far Potter's work was inspired by Resnais. (12) Both Potter's and Resnais' novelists resent their physical weakness and seek strenuously to ignore the demands of their bodies through the heroic use of imagination and creative effort. Providence and The Singing Detective are both very much an inside view of how the creative and intellectual process works transposed into a visual medium.

Leaving aside these views of the internal creative process, I will now turn briefly to a far more conventional view of the intellectual body as it emerges in all its repulsiveness in mainstream as well as many 'arthouse' interpretations. Not only is the intellectual body presented as something unattractive and socially out of place, this body is also sexually incompetent, for the modern intellectual is still living out the legacy of the medieval cleric. Celibacy remains a prerequisite for the intellectual endeavour. When the usually male purveyors of the intellect get mixed up with women (or occasionally young boys as in Death in Venice) the result can only be disaster--madness, murder and death at the worst (as we see in The Blue Angel and Lolita) or at the very least writer's block (as in Twinky with Charles Bronson playing a writer (13) and the stagnation of one's career (The Browning Version. (14) Further, these intellectuals seem only capable of relating to very young and unformed but--as it so often conveniently turns out--sexually precocious women. It transpires that even the charismatic Dr Indiana Jones has no qualms in seducing a very young girl. When the subject of his attentions turns up ten years later at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark he responds to her anger by telling her that 'she knew what she was doing'. Needless to say, in true Hollywood fashion, the heroine has succumbed to his charms once again by the end of the film. One might also comment on the semiotic coding of Indiana Jones' appearance in this film. At the beginning we see him be-tweeded and be-spectacled, lecturing to a class of students. He is shocked by the blatant advances of one of his female students. Later after he has donned his man of action safari suit, he no longer seems to require his glasses (the man of action gazes keenly into the distance whereas the myopic scholar sees only as far as his books) and the effeminacies of scholarship are discarded. (15) One can also see this dichotomy at work in a particularly illustrative speech made by Professor Humbert in Lolita, a speech which also illustrates both the misogyny and contempt for the body that characterises the intellectual in so many films. Humbert has married Lolita's mother so that he can be near her fourteen year old daughter. (16) The former has just told him not to send candy to Lolita who is at a summer camp. He retorts angrily 'Even in the most harmonious households such as ours, not all the decisions are taken by the female. Especially when the male partner has fulfilled his obligations beyond the line of duty. You wanted me to spend the afternoon sunbathing by the lake. I was glad to become the bronzed glamour boy for you instead of remaining the scholar'.

For females the scenario is equally unattractive, but if the male scholar can save himself by allowing himself to be transformed into 'a man of action', the only salvation for a woman is through abandoning herself to a man. These women from the outset and for the most part still occupy the strictly delimited female roles of school teacher, women's magazine editor or romance writer and so on. If they remain recalcitrant, intellectual women such as Miss Jean Brodie can only lead young people to their doom, but if on the other hand they are sensible, they can be 'saved' by a man. Women, if they engage in intellectual activity, risk losing their 'femininity' and becoming disappointed old spinsters. This is a message which emerges loud and clear for example in a film made in the 1948 titled June Bride in which Bette Davis stars as a successful magazine editor. In an appalling closing scene she throws in her career and her principles and accepts virtual slavery simply to escape from the predicted fate of the 'lonely old spinster'. Curiously, however, amongst the dearth of films made about female intellectuals there are in fact some positive images notably Akira Kurosawa's 1946 film No Regrets for our Youth (17) and with some major reservations the films Madame Curie (18) and the 1997 film Contact starring Jodie Foster. (19) Positive exceptions aside, after viewing many of the more conventional views of intellectual existence few would be tempted to follow such a life. Thinking is clearly bad for you--it renders you unfit for consumption by polite society, ruins your sex life if not obliterating the possibility of one altogether, and in extreme cases leads to madness and death.

In conclusion, the image of the intellectual in film is far more complex than one might initially imagine on a cursory survey. This chapter, however, is far too short to do anything more than suggest a few lines of inquiry which touch on issues as diverse as the nature of representation, the role of gender and the value and social function of the intellectual. Further studies can only bring the celluloid body of the intellectual more sharply into focus.

Notes

(2) See Kristeva (1995: 8); Baudrillard (1981) and Cold Lazarus (1996)

(3) Notably the valuable work of Pierre Bourdieu (1984), (1992), Ian Hunter (1991; 1994), Jeff Minson (1997) Niilo Kauppi (1994) and Kauppi and Sulkenen (1994).

(4) I might point out, particularly in the light of the analyses of Brook and Kirkpatrick and Thorpe contained in the current collection, that there is a growing literature on how the body of the university lecturer is represented. It is important to note however that intellectuals and university lecturers are two very different entities. University teaching is not generally regarded as the primary function of that category designated as 'intellectuals', neither are all intellectuals necessarily involved in university teaching.

(5) For some remarks specifically on the self presentation of the female intellectual in the person of Simone de Beauvoir see Bair (1990: 123, 181—2.) .

(6) See Debray (1993: 78—81); Furet (1979: 66) and O'Farrell (1997).

(7) The series of Sherlock Holmes telefilms (1984—994) starring Jeremy Brett offers of all the film renditions, the most intellectual image of this famous detective who solves cases through dazzling displays of intellectual deduction and erudition.

(8) Inspector Morse is the main character in a popular BBC television series of the same name based on the novels by Colin Dexter. Morse is a graduate of Oxford and an avid consumer of 'high' culture. His untidy appearance, love of alcohol and impatience with the populist culture of his unfortunate sergeant, Lewis, all serve to reinforce the semiotic coding of Morse as 'intellectual', or perhaps failed intellectual, as after all he has chosen the police force rather than the academy.

(9) The spy as intellectual emerges particularly strongly in films based on John Le Carré's work such as the 1967 Sidney Lumet film The Deadly Affair and the 1991 telefilm starring Denholm Elliot A Murder of Quality. The Deadly Affair opens with the interview of a civil servant who has been accused of espionage. The man under investigation discusses his membership of the Communist Party as an Oxford undergraduate in the 1930s. He says: 'When you're young, you hitch the wagon of whatever you believe in to whatever star looks likely to get the wagon moving. When I was an undergraduate, the wagon was social justice and the star was Karl Marx'.

(10) For comments on the relation between real science and Star Trek see Krauss (1996).

(11) I have simplified the description of the action here to only include scenes which include rat transformations.

(12) The atmosphere of Resnais' and Potter's work is however very different--where Potter's universe is violent and confrontational, Resnais' is thoroughly permeated with a detached and highly refined sense of irony and humour.

(13) This film was subsequently very inexpertly edited in order to be renamed Lola, no doubt to cash in on the notoriety of Lolita. Some may be surprised to see Charles Bronson mentioned in the context of a discussion on intellectuals and film!

(14) Two films (1951) (1994) and one telefilm (1985) have been made of this Terrence Rattigan play which is about a schoolteacher in a large English public school.

(15) See Ryan and Kellner (1988:240—) for similar observations.

(16) Lolita is actually twelve years old in the original book. It should be pointed out that Vladimir Nobokov adapted his own novel for the screen.

(17) When asked why he did not continue to make films of this kind Kurosawa said it was due to the priorities of the production company Toho, which assigned this segment of the market to another director Naruse (Goodwin, 1994: 48)

(18) This film tends to focus on the romantic relationship between Pierre and Marie Curie and says nothing about her career after the death of her husband. In a number of ways which I do not have time to examine here the structure of this film is similar to the 1939 film with Robert Donat Goodbye Mr. Chips with Madame Curie as a kind of female Mr. Chips.

(19) If nothing else this film shows that research requires time and usually solitude and that sheer brilliance does not always carry the day in the face of the political machinations of others. But in true Hollywood style, again, she of course partners with the obligatory male by the end of the film.

References

Barthes, R. (1973) The brain of Einstein in Mythologies, Anette Lavers (trans.) London: Paladin, pp.68—70.

Baudrillard, J. (1981), Simulacres et simulation, Paris: Galilée.

----. (1993) Symbolic exchange and death, Iain Hamilton Grant (trans.) with an introduction by Mike Gane, London: Sage.

Bourdieu, P. (1984), Homo academicus. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit.

----. (1992), Les règles de l'art. Genèse et structure du champ littéraire, Paris: Seuil.

Debray, R. (1993), L'état séducteur: les révolutions médiologiques du pouvoir, Paris: Gallimard.

de Negroni, F. (1985), Le savoir vivre intellectuel, Paris: Olivier Orban.

Foucault, M. (1969) L'archéologie du savoir, Paris: Gallimard.

Furet, F. (1979) Penser la révolution française, Paris: Gallimard.

Goodwin, J. (1994) Akira Kurosawa and intertextual cinema, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Gouldner, A. (1978) The future of intellectuals and the rise of the new class, New York: Seabury Press.

Hunter, I. (1991) Accounting for the humanities: the language of culture and the logic of government, Brisbane: Institute for Cultural Policy Studies.

----. (1994) Bureaucrat, critic, citizen: on some styles of ethical life, Arena Journal 2:77—101.

Joyrich, L. (1995) Give me a girl at an impressionable age and she is mine for life in Gallop, Jane (ed.), Pedagogy : the question of impersonation, Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Kauppi, N. and Sulkunen, P. (eds.) (1992) Vanguards of modernity: society, intellectuals and the university, Jyväskylän: Research Unit for Contemporary Culture.

Kauppi, N. (1994) The making of an avant-garde: Tel Quel, Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.

Krauss, L. M.(1996) The physics of Star Trek, with a forward by Stephen Hawking, New York: Harperperennial Library.

Kristeva, J. (1995), New maladies of the soul, Ross Guberman, (trans.) New York: Columbia University Press.

Monaco, J. (1978) The role of imagination, London: Secker and Warburg.

Minson, J.P. (1997), What is an expert? in O'Farrell, Clare (ed.) Foucault: The Legacy, Brisbane: QUT.

O'Farrell, C. (1997) Media republics: intellectuals strike back, Continuum: The Australian Journal of Media and Culture, 11,2, pp.54—60.

Ryan, M. and Kellner, D. (1988), Camera politica: the politics and ideology of contemporary Hollywood film, Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Said, E. (1994) Representations of the intellectual: the 1993 Reith lectures, London: Vintage.

Straczynski, J. M. (1996) The JMS files compiled from the internet by John Crnjanin, Murmurs, 4,6:8—10.

Tudor, A. (1989) Monsters and mad scientists: a cultural history of the horror movie, Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

Film and television References

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984—1994, UK/USA) series of telefilms.
Babylon 5 (1994—1998, USA) Writer, J. Michael Straczyiski, television series.
The Blue Angel (Josef von Sternberg, 1930, Germany).
The Browning Version (Anthony Asquith, 1951, UK).
The Browning Version (Michael A. Simpson, 1985, UK) telefilm.
The Browning Version (Mike Figgis, 1994, UK)
Cold Lazarus, (Renny Rye, 1996, UK) Writer, Dennis Potter.
Contact (Robert Zemeckis, 1997, USA)
The Deadly Affair (Sidney Lumet, 1967, UK).
Death in Venice (Luchino Visconti, 1971, Italy).
Goodbye Mr. Chips (Sam Wood, 1939, UK).
Inspector Morse (1987—, UK) series of telefilms.
June Bride (Bretaigne Windust, 1948, USA).
Lolita (Stanley Kubrick, 1962, UK).
Madame Curie (Mervyn LeRoy, 1943, USA)
Mon Oncle d'Amérique (Alain Resnais, 1980, France).
A Murder of Quality (Gavin Millar, 1991, UK) telefilm.
No Regrets for our Youth (Akira Kurosawa, 1946, Japan).
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (Ronald Neame, 1969, UK).
Providence (Alain Resnais, 1976, France).
Raiders of the Lost Ark (Steven Spielberg,1981, USA)
Star Trek: The Next Generation, episode: 'Descent', (1993, USA) television series.
The Singing Detective (Jon Amiel, 1986, UK) Writer, Dennis Potter, television miniseries.
Twinky (aka Lola) (Richard Donner, 1969, UK)