Proteus:
A Nineteenth Century Vision
by David
Lebrun
First Run / Icarus Films, Brooklyn, NY,
2004
DVD, 59 mins., col.
Sale: $390
Distributors website: http://www.frif.com/.
Reviewed by Amy Ione
PO Box 6813
Santa Rosa CA 95406
ione@diatrope.com
Mixing an array of visuals with a powerful
script, Proteus: A Nineteenth Century
Vision is a remarkable movie that
continually urges the mind to reach beyond
what is examined on the screen. David
Lebrun, the director, achieves this result
by framing the hour around the life of
Ernst Haeckel (1834-1919). Opening with
a collage of details from engravings of
this time, the viewer immediately senses
that Proteus is not a typical film.
This intuition is confirmed as animated
sequences of Ernst Haeckels geometric
drawings are joined with well-edited sequences
showing images of nineteenth century painters,
graphic artists, photographers and scientific
illustrators. Culled from European and
American collections, these images expand
on the environment that led to the formation
of Haeckels vision of a unity of
all nature.
What I liked most about the film was the
interweaving of Haeckels paintings
and intricate drawings with the narrative.
Raised as a Christian and trained as a
scientist, the young Haeckel found himself
torn between science and art, materialism
and religion, rationality and passion,
outer and inner worlds. His early sense
of "conflicting realities" was turned
around when he envisioned a unity while
working with the intricate geometric skeletons
of the tiny undersea organisms called
radiolaria. The scientific projects that
followed were capable of touching his
deepest artistic tendencies. Ultimately
forming a vision of confluence, he was
able to discover, describe, classify and
paint 4000 species of these one-celled
creatures. Haeckels greatest contribution
grew from their strikingly crystalline
structure, which led him to maintain that
the simplest organic life had originated
spontaneously from inorganic matter by
a sort of crystallization. Eventually,
Haeckel proposed his Biogenetic Law, and
his research in the development of higher
organisms led to the famous phrase ontogeny
recapitulates phylogeny that we
now associate with his name.
Well-known as a zoologist and evolutionist
who was greatly influenced by Darwin as
Haeckel was, Proteus does an excellent
job in explaining that Haeckel initially
saw the pull toward art and science in
terms of a conflict between the rigors
of science and the Romanticism of the
nineteenth century. LeBrun meticulously
parallels Haeckels evolution
toward a holistic vision through his documentation
of the eras focus on the ocean depths,
including key events such as the laying
of the transatlantic cable. This well-orchestrated
approach aids the viewer in perceiving
how the exploration of underwater variations
influenced his path and places Haeckel
within both the scientific and artistic
communities. Indeed, as Proteus
seamlessly blends the empirical and visionary
relationships to the invisible, mysterious
ocean depths we see him in terms of how
the spiritual view of Romantic poetry,
myth, and painting related to views of
history, biology, and oceanography. For
example, a taste of the Romanticism that
was in the air is exquisitely captured
when the film juxtaposes Gustave Dores
illustrations of Coleridges "Rime
of the Ancient Mariner" with commentary
on the poem itself without losing sight
of how the oceans mysteries stimulated
investigative problem solving. Haeckels
interest in examining the variety of living
creatures that inhabit the sea was a part
of the scientific worldview, and thus
his projects offered another kind of commentary
on how the oceans secrets were exposed
and brought to the surface.
Watching the video I was captivated by
the integration of the images and its
flow. It was only when it concluded that
I began to think that evolution continues
to have difficultly explaining the variety
and specificity of the radioloarian and
dinoflagellate species. [They have eyes,
whipping tails, and hunting behavior even
though they are single-celled!] While
not sure where this "fits" in terms of
the films thesis, it still seems
important to not lose sight of this "detail".
I also found I did not fully accept the
scripts idea that the nineteenth
century was drawn to the ocean depths
much as those of twentieth century looked
toward outer space. Without a doubt, I
agreed when the early narration stated
that each age has its own image of the
world, and those of the nineteenth century
were drawn to the ocean depths much as
the twentieth century turned toward outer
space. However, as the story unfolded
I found myself thinking of the twentieth
century figures influenced by Haeckel
and how powerfully their ideas established
the later centurys trajectory from
psychology to the brain and consciousness.
In light of Haeckels reach, it seems
more astute to compare the draw of the
ocean in the nineteenth century with the
turn toward both inner and outer space
throughout the twentieth century. Both
Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) and Carl G.
Jung (1871-1961) acknowledged their debt
to Haeckel. Jung was inspired by Goethes
Faust, much as Proteus outlines
to have been the case with Haeckel, and
many of the events in Haeckels life
were reminiscent of Jungs biography.
These include his internal conflict early
in life when he was pulled towards art
and science, his fascination with Goethes
work, and his religious upbringing. Given
the many similarities, it is perhaps not
surprising that I kept seeing Jungs
drawings and mandalas in my mind
as the varied images flashed on the screen.
This enlarged conclusion is buttressed
when we add in another thinker, Santiago
Ramón y Cajal (1852-1954). Cajal
is often called the "Father of Neurobiology"
and, like Haeckel, had considered a career
in art. Instead, he too studied medicine,
eventually bringing his love for drawing
to his studies of the brain, often sketching
out his ideas. While we know Cajal was
impressed by Haeckels evolutionary
theories, it is hard to say if the neuroscientist
contemplated how this nineteenth century
figure similarly found a way to integrate
his artistic talents with his scientific
research.
Wonderfully edited and animated, the final
product is an indescribable viewing experience.
Moreover, the release of Proteus
suggests that the urge to re-examine this
visionary thinker is justly gaining momentum.
The late Stephen Jay Gould, who re-visited
this thinkers contributions in his
Ontogeny and Phylogeny (1977),
provided an examination of the relationship
between evolution and the development
of the individual organism. Like Proteus,
Gould offers a sympathetic reconsideration
of Haeckel in his effort to re-acquaint
the reader with this German biologists
"Biogenetic law", largely dismissed today.
Proteus, almost 30 years later,
has expanded Goulds work. It offers
a stimulating and stunning experience
in the form of a poetic statement. As
such, the film demonstrates that creative
minds are fertile and varied. It reminds
us that many thinkers who link art and
science see a world in which there is
synergy rather than conflict between these
modes. Perhaps this statement is Proteus
(and Haeckels) greatest gift.