A heterotopic perception of ‘wall’ in psychological thriller films: a place, a labyrinth and a panoptic power

Abstract

A wall is often viewed simply as a structure that divides and isolates different worlds, spaces, or places. However, an alternative perspective, known as the heterotopic point of view, suggests that a wall can be seen as a place. Such a place possesses panoptical characteristics and spatial experiences that might be felt as a panoptic power and a labyrinth, rendering it suitable for the setting of many psychological thriller films. To illustrate this phenomenon, this article examines two examples from psychological thrillers and compares them with Foucault’s concept of Heterotopia. This is accomplished by breaking down his six principles of space parameters. By doing so, the article reveals the intricate and multifaceted nature of walls, as well as their potential to be portrayed in a myriad of ways in the cinematic arts.

Graphical Abstract

Keywords:

• Heterotopia
• labyrinth
• panoptic power
• place
• psychological thriller films
• space
• wall

Reviewing Editor:

• Lincoln Geraghty, School of Media and Performing Arts, Eldon Building, University of Portsmouth, Winston Churchill Ave, Portsmouth, PO1 2DJ, UK

Subjects:

• Arts & Humanities
• Arts
• Filmmaking and Postproduction
• Directing
• Filmmaking Bibles
• Screenwriting
• Art & Visual Culture
• Visual Arts
• Humanities
• Philosophy
• Media & Film Studies

Introduction: what is a wall?

The incorporation of the wall as a fundamental element extends across diverse artistic expressions, encompassing architecture, film, video games, and paintings. This versatile structural entity transcends medium boundaries, finding relevance in both functional and symbolic capacities. In this exploration, this research delves into the intricacies of how the concept of the wall is harnessed within a certain perception in architecture and film—two pivotal domains that not only shape the creative narrative but also lay the groundwork for the evolution of other art forms, including video games and paintings. By delving into the intricate interplay of walls within these foundational realms, we gain a comprehensive understanding of how this architectural and cinematic motif resonates through various artistic dimensions, offering insights into the profound role it plays in shaping both artistic expression and human perception.

In architecture

According to Simon Unwin, the wall is an integral part of the architectural language used to create a composition (Unwin, 2015). In this language, the wall serves as a verb, capable of doing and shaping spaces and places, rather than simply existing as a plain, solid entity. The wall thus becomes an instrument that can control and manage the rules that govern the perception and experience of a space. By creating boundaries, guiding experiences, enclosing spaces, and constructing worlds, the wall enables the manifestation of concepts such as possession, privacy, and isolation. In this way, the wall serves a crucial function in architecture, going beyond its physical presence to shape the very essence of the spaces it inhabits.

In this definition, prisons can be viewed as the most appropriate enclosure in which the wall can be seen as a violent verb that shapes and guides the behavior of prisoners. Evans, in his Fabrication of Virtue (1982), categorises the wall in prisons as barriers, apertures, and surfaces of distance and volume. For example, when describing prison walls, he notes that they are fortified and damaged on the outside where no one treads, and that the top of the walls have loose mortar bricks, making it only penetrable from below or through the wall itself. The density of the bricks composing the wall also contributes to its weight and prevents water from moving underneath, leading to muddy floors (Evans, 1982). From another perspective related to prisons, the function of the wall can be seen as dividing individuals through a clear border, as demonstrated by the Berlin Wall, the wall between Palestine and Israel, and the wall between Mexico and the United States (Backmann & Kaiser, 2010; Rael et al., 2017; Saddiki, 2017).

Henri Lefebvre compared the notion of the ‘wall’ to in dividing space during the Cold War era. In essence, it represents a space that is incapable of reflecting a genuine spatial reality. The division of the city is emblematic, both psychologically and physically. Scholars have argued that the physical symbolism of a wall is rooted in the defensive characteristics of the materials it is made of, which make it impossible to escape. For instance, the Great Wall of China has a visible psychological symbolism that prevents outsiders from invading it (Pike, 2010).

The function of the wall extends beyond just separating spaces. The Neuendorf House is a remarkable architectural example that harnesses the power of walls to orchestrate an emotional journey and manipulate the perception of time. Unwin (2015) aptly likened the building to a symphonic composition in which the wall assumes the role of the central instrument, playing a pivotal role in shaping visitors’ experiences.

Upon entering the Neuendorf House, visitors are immediately met with the significance of the wall as it guides them through an orchestrated sequence. The entrance, framed by a wall, sets the tone for the journey. This initial encounter marks the beginning of an immersive narrative where walls act as storytellers, leading occupants from one spatial enclosure to another. As visitors traverse these interconnected spaces, the wall acts as a temporal conductor, gradually unveiling the passage of time through its changing forms and textures, see Figure 1.

Figure 1. Neuendorf House: The Wall, Unwin (2015), reproduced by Mais Dweiri.

The architectural design of the Neuendorf House expertly utilizes walls to create a sense of progression. A courtyard enclosed by walls offers a pause, a moment of contemplation where time seems suspended, allowing individuals to interact with the environment and experience a brief escape from the conventional progression of time. However, this serene interlude is transient, for the journey continues.

The pinnacle of this architectural symphony occurs when visitors encounter an opening that frames a breathtaking view of a pool, seamlessly integrated with the distant horizon. This pivotal moment plays with perceptions of time, as the absence of a wall in this final vista disrupts the established rhythm. As Figure 2 illustrates, the view stretches beyond immediate perception, hinting at a continuum that defies temporal constraints. The absence of a physical barrier in this instance becomes symbolic of projecting into the limitless future, amplifying the emotional impact of the journey. The manipulated sense of time, achieved through walls as guiding elements, culminates in a transformative experience that lingers long after leaving the architectural space.

Figure 2. Neuendorf House: Main Paths, Unwin (2015), reproduced by Mais Dweiri.

According to Shīrāzī (2013), the wall is a fundamental and dominant element in the work of Tadao Ando. It is seen as a symbol of separation, which gives rise to the formation of places and domains. The wall plays a role in determining what is essential and necessary, and affects whether something is accepted or rejected (Shīrāzī, 2013). Tadao Ando, celebrated for his minimalist architecture, employs wall as pivotal element in his designs, often functioning as narrative conduits rather than mere partitions. In his works, including the potential context of the Chikatsu-Asuka Museum, walls transcend physical barriers, intertwining materiality, light, and shadow to orchestrate a sensory and spatial experience. These walls guide visitors through transitions, blur the line between indoors and outdoors, and evoke cultural symbolism. By manipulating light, texture, and the interplay between enclosed and open spaces, Ando’s walls craft a nuanced narrative that influences the visitor’s emotional connection, spatial perception, and engagement with both architecture and surroundings (Shīrāzī, 2013).

According to Unwin, the ability of architects to manipulate both worlds, the separated zones, by the wall, and people is comparable to that of a film director who can generate emotional tension and suspense. Through the use of wall, architects can create stories, narratives, and control the perception of time. This simple architectural element allows architects to surpass the boundary between their own ideas and the inhabitants’ perception. Similarly, breaking through the invisible barrier between a film director and the audience is an inevitable result of this manipulation of space (Unwin, 2015).

In film

Depicting the wall in film serves several purposes. Besides its functional use of dividing spaces and places, it can symbolise the separation of two realms, such as life and death. The wall has been described as blocking passages between worlds, as seen in films like ‘Der Tunnel’ (Bernhardt, 1933), or as a way to defend a city from invasion, as seen in fantasy films like ‘The Lord of the Rings’ (Jackson, 2002). In these instances, the wall not only serves an architectural function but also has a metaphorical significance in representing the city (Abu-Obeid & Abuhassan, 2023).

According to Hanich (2010), the wall was perceived as a segregating element, which absorbs sound, resulting in a restricted place where no sound is heard outside. This idea is illustrated in film ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ directed by Demme (1991) where the FBI agent, Clarice, is directed to visit Lecter’s cell. The subterranean cellar was situated beneath ground level, with a series of five metallic doors securely shut, thereby rendering her in complete seclusion. Similarly, when she descended into Buffalo Bill’s cellar, she was surrounded by a labyrinth of walls and doors, creating an isolated environment where she was cut off from the outside world, with no possibility of rescue (Hanich, 2010)

Hanich (2020) views the wall as a boundary for transgression that can be interpreted from various perspectives in different film genres. In psychological thrillers, for example, transgression occurs between the inside and outside of a particular space where the character seeks refuge inside while avoiding threats from the outside. In contrast, in heist films, these boundaries are intended to be overcome and defied by rejecting the notion of an inaccessible space, whether it is a tangible space like a heavily secured vault, or an intangible space like moral or social barriers. In these cases, the individual extends through the space to overcome the enforced state of separation (Hanich, 2020). Therefore, the wall can be viewed as a tangible component that primarily functions in separation, as well as an intangible component that emerges whenever another dimension prevents the current dimension from progressing, ultimately serving as a barrier (Hanich, 2020).

The wall’s capacity for separation means that it can encompass time and senses, as exemplified in Spike Jonze’s Being John Malkovich (1999), where a hidden wall leads to a mysterious hole that ultimately serves as a portal, allowing those who trespass it to break the ‘fourth wall’ and enter the consciousness of the actor John Malkovich. This act of possession facilitated the transgression of other intangible boundaries, including senses, time, age, and gender identities. Thus, the wall can be understood not only as a physical structure but also as an abstract concept that serves as a boundary for different dimensions (Lawtoo, 2020).

Significance of the study

The significance of this study holds considerable value for filmmakers and writers alike, offering a unique lens through which to approach storytelling and the portrayal of spaces. By delving into the concept of heterotopia within the context of films, particularly through the intricate analysis of the wall as a central element, this study provides a groundbreaking framework for creative exploration.

For filmmakers, this study offers a fresh perspective on how the environment can be employed as a powerful narrative tool. By engaging with the six principles of heterotopia and applying them meticulously to the portrayal of walls, filmmakers gain an innovative toolkit to craft layered and immersive narratives. This approach encourages the creation of spaces that not only serve as settings but become characters in themselves, influencing the plot, character dynamics, and the overall emotional resonance of the story.

Writers also stand to benefit significantly from this study’s insights. The integration of heterotopia’s principles offers a structured framework for crafting intricate worlds within their narratives. By considering how the wall can transcend mere physicality and become a symbol of power, transgression, and dual experiences, writers can create richer and more nuanced stories. The study’s focus on the wall as a multi-dimensional element inspires writers to imbue their settings with depth and meaning, contributing to the thematic depth of their narratives.

Moreover, the holistic analysis of all six principles applied to the wall as a singular element provides a comprehensive model that can be adapted to other components of storytelling. This methodology equips both filmmakers and writers with a versatile approach to dissecting the layers of their narratives, amplifying the impact of their storytelling and enhancing the audience’s engagement.

Foucault’s heterotopia concept

Foucault’s work aims to illustrate various social norms and highlight specific institutional, social, and verbal spaces that are unique, disconnected, and concentrated. The term ‘heterotopia’ is used by Foucault to describe spaces with multiple layers of significance, or connections to other places that are not immediately apparent. Heterotopias are universes within universes that reflect certain power and knowledge.

Foucault coined the term ‘heterotopias’ by combining ‘hetero’, denoting ‘other’, and ‘topos’, meaning ‘place’, to refer to these distinct and alternative spaces. Foucault’s concept of heterotopias serves two purposes with respect to every other space: A heterotopia is a concept that encompasses two distinct types: the heterotopia of deception, which generates an imaginary environment that reveals the true nature of all other spaces, and the heterotopia of compensation, which establishes a tangible area that serves as an alternative to existing spaces. In his piece titled ‘Des espaces autres’ (Of Other Spaces), Foucault provides a comprehensive analysis of heterotopias (Michel Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986).

Utopias exist as non-existent realms, distinct from all tangible locations within a culture. In contrast to these utopias, heterotopias encompass all other actual sites that exist beyond conventional spaces, starkly divergent from the sites they mirror and discuss.

Within Heterotopia, Foucault presents the concept of a multifaceted connection between power and knowledge. This interconnection culminates in the creation of hypothetical spaces that closely resemble the idealised space of a Utopia. Nonetheless, attaining the level of a Utopia requires a more profound level of involvement, which results in a quasi-utopian space. In this realm, each universe is characterised by its respective user(s) and owner(s), as well as a set of protocols that govern their interactions (M Foucault, 2018).

The notion of heterotopia offers a valuable lens through which to grasp the intricate dynamics of how human subjects encounter and navigate space. This concept sheds light not only on the experiential aspects of spatial interactions but also on the interplay between various practices, including those of a governmental, social, normative, or transgressive nature. The potency of this concept is such that it prompts significant inquiries into the essence of space and the connections that underlie it., Accordingly, Foucault formulated six principles of heterotopias that are capable of representing human culture, norms, and rules.

Principle one of Foucault’s heterotopias postulates the existence of several potential variations of heterotopias, which possess dual meanings. These include the ‘crisis heterotopia’, representing individuals undergoing a crisis in accordance with societal rules or judgments, such as pregnant women or the elderly in some primitive societies, where certain activities occur out of sight. Additionally, Foucault notes that these heterotopias of crisis have gradually disappeared from society, replaced by the ‘heterotopia of deviations’. This new form of heterotopia involves individuals whose behavior deviates from societal norms and are situated in unconventional locations, such as psychiatric hospitals and prisons.

The second principle of heterotopias concerns the transformation of a space’s function into another. The spatial configuration has undergone a shift, not only in physical position but also in its cultural significance and operational dynamics, often deliberately defying conventions. For instance, the case of the cemetery exemplifies this transformation: traditionally situated ‘at the heart of the city, adjacent to the church’ (Francis, 2018), it has now migrated to the ‘exterior boundaries of cities’. This shift is attributed to evolving perceptions of public health, the conceptualization of death as a malady, concerns of contagion, and a demand for a distinct ‘other city’ where each family possesses its private final resting place. While this portrayal of cemetery evolution might appear oversimplified as it pertains to its historical narrative, one could argue that it’s not solely the cemetery’s role that has undergone transformation, but rather its relocation from city cores to their peripheries (Michel Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986; Francis, 2018; Merwe, 2021).

The third principle posits that heterotopias are capable of juxtaposing several spaces that are incompatible within a single real place. The ancient Oriental gardens, for instance, are an amalgamation of diverse environments, with all their plants and trees. This makes the garden the smallest unit of the world, yet it encompasses the totality of the world.

The third principle of heterotopias introduces a profound concept that highlights the unique and often perplexing nature of these alternative spatial entities. This principle unveils the remarkable capacity of heterotopias to harmoniously coexist with multiple spaces that would conventionally be deemed incompatible within a single tangible location. In essence, heterotopias challenge the conventional boundaries of physical space, defying the constraints that typically confine disparate places to separate realms. This dynamic interplay of incompatible spaces within a singular real place grants heterotopias a surreal quality—an ability to bridge the gap between seemingly incongruent realities. This principle invites contemplation on the intricate intersections of these diverse spaces, encouraging people to question the conventional notions of spatial coherence and prompting a reconsideration of the fluidity and malleability of the physical environment.

The fourth principle of heterotopia pertains to ‘time heterotopias’, such as museums, where objects from various styles and eras coexist. These entities not only possess temporal existence but also symbolize the creation and conservation of temporal dimensions. (M Foucault, 2018; Michel Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986). In these spaces, the conventional boundaries that restrict certain artifacts to specific chronological contexts are subverted, allowing relics of history to intermingle freely. Museums, epitomizing time heterotopias, emerge as repositories of temporal convergence, offering a captivating canvas where fragments of the past, present, and even the future intertwine. By inviting objects from various epochs to coexist within a singular space, time heterotopias challenge the conventional notion of the progression of time as a unidirectional flow. These spaces become vessels for a unique form of time travel, enabling visitors to traverse epochs and engage with artifacts in a manner that transcends the confines of historical order.

The fifth principle of heterotopia relates to the establishment of ‘heterotopias of rituals’, which encompass restricted yet permeable realms that are comparatively less accessible than public domains. This principle suggests the existence of a mechanism of certain accessible strategy that serves to simultaneously isolate and render these spaces permeable. In essence, heterotopias are not open for unrestricted entry; they entail regulations governing both exit and entrance. This implies a form of exclusion and/or authorization with regard to access, affiliation, or even a ceremonial process serving as a threshold for admission (Michel Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986).

The final trait of heterotopias operates in relation to other spaces and oscillates between two poles. These are either a space of illusion that exposes every real space, or, on the contrary, a creation of another real space that reflects the perfect, imperfect, or messy, resulting in the heterotopia of compensation. According to Foucault, heterotopias are ‘real places’ that exist in our lives but in different from and outside of the usual spaces people encounter in their everyday lives. They can be physical spaces, like museums or cemeteries, or mental spaces, like dreams or utopian visions. Heterotopias are spaces that are neither here nor there, but rather exist in between different spaces, shifting across meanings, power effects, and locations in regard to their agent.

In his book ‘The Badlands of Modernity: Heterotopia and Social Ordering’, Kevin Hetherington explores Michel Foucault’s this concept of heterotopia and argues that the heterotopia can be seen as a kind of ‘ideal space’ that exists outside of the norms and conventions of everyday life.

Hetherington suggests that heterotopias can be seen as ‘ideal spaces’ because they exist outside of the norms and conventions of everyday life. They are spaces that represent alternatives to the dominant social and cultural norms of the society in which they are created. As such, they can be used to reflect on the social and cultural contexts in which they are created and to challenge people’s perceptions of reality (Hetherington, 2003).

The concept of heterotopias has sparked the interest of various researchers and scholars, leading to diverse applications across different disciplines. Human geographers, often associated with postmodernist schools, have embraced the term to deepen insights into contemporary urban complexities (Axberg, 2011; King, 2014; Laura Mulvey, 1975; Lindqvist & Tishelman, 2015; Lyon, 2006).

These complexities encompass economic, political, social, and cultural differences and identities, particularly within multicultural cities. The notion of place, intertwined with aspects like gender and ethnicity, has gained prominence as a heterotopic entity within post-structuralist and postmodern theoretical discussions, resonating in geography and other spatial social sciences.

Furthermore, heterotopia’s relevance extends to educational settings, where scholars examine the spatial context of learning environments. The likes of David Harvey and Edward Soja have contributed significant discourse. Harvey delved into class dominance as a core element of social heteronomy (Harvey, 2000), while Soja, in his work ‘Thirdspace’, engaged with Henri Lefebvre’s concepts to establish a novel perspective on spatiality, encompassing both mental and material dimensions (Soja, 1996).

In a different realm, David van der Merwe’s application of Foucault’s six qualifying conditions of a heterotopia in the realm of the largely ungoverned digital sphere highlights the illusory nature of online environments. This renders them heterotopic, leading to reflections on governance, financing, and regulation. The investments of time and effort in blockchain-powered metaverse contexts and the creation of virtual identities underscore the metaverse’s significance in contrast to real-life interactions. The metaverse’s heterotopic nature also raises profound inquiries about personhood and relationships within the digital landscape, catalyzing contemplation about their role in shaping modern human experiences and connections (Merwe, 2021).

Heterotopias in films

Within the realm of films, heterotopias serve as fertile ground for delving into varied facets of storytelling, particularly the realm of ‘ideal space’ as termed by Hetherington (2003). Drawing from Hetherington’s perspective, filmmakers can ingeniously harness the concept of an ideal space that diverges from the tapestry of daily existence. These cinematic heterotopias metamorphose into potent tools, facilitating an exploration of intricate themes tied to memory, nostalgia, and the relentless march of time. By ingeniously crafting these alternate realms, filmmakers intricately weave the threads of narrative, offering a canvas where the dynamic interplay of the past, the evocative pull of nostalgia, and the ephemerality of time can be masterfully unraveled, thereby elevating the storytelling experience to unparalleled heights.

In Stanley Kubrick’s film ‘The Shining’ (Kubrick, 1980) the application of heterotopic themes serves to accentuate the sensations of otherness and estrangement. Notably, the Overlook Hotel emerges as a quintessential heterotopia within the narrative. Positioned in a state of neither here nor there, it resides betwixt various spatial realms, its eerie isolation and unsettling architecture creating an alternative reality that defies commonplace norms (Jenks, 1995).

This cinematic journey traverses themes of memory, nostalgia, and the relentless passage of time, all framed within the hotel’s heterotopic confines. The protagonist’s haunting recollections of the hotel’s history mirror his spiral into madness—a manifestation of his entrapment within the heterotopic space. The hotel further blurs the boundaries of reality, epitomized in the iconic scene where Jack converses with the spectral bartender, Lloyd. This interaction defies logic and underscores the film’s intricate dance between the real and the unreal. The hedge maze within the hotel’s grounds also becomes a metaphorical labyrinth that parallels the hotel’s nature, ensnaring individuals and accentuating the heterotopic essence.

The film accentuates heterotopic dimensions through the enigmatic twins who materialize before the protagonist, Jack Torrance, within the Overlook Hotel. These apparitions hold sway over liminal spaces—between life and death, childhood and adulthood, and reality and illusion. Their presence, coupled with other supernatural occurrences, evokes a profound sense of disorientation and unease, further solidifying the hotel’s heterotopic identity. In ‘The Shining’, the utilization of heterotopia becomes a masterful tool, enriching the narrative by intertwining spatial enigma with psychological intricacies, thereby nurturing an atmosphere of enigmatic otherness throughout the film.

Dream sequences, as a narrative tool, function as heterotopic realms, providing characters with an ideal space detached from reality to explore memories and emotions. By transcending the constraints of waking life, these sequences enable characters to recollect and ponder past events in ways otherwise unattainable (Shohat & Stam, 1994).

Similarly, flashback sequences serve as heterotopias that illuminate a character’s past, distinct from the present moment. These sequences form an alternate space that reframes past events, fostering a fresh perspective for audiences to delve into the character’s motivations and emotions (Shohat & Stam, 1994).

A prime cinematic example exemplifying the essence of heterotopia is ‘In the Mood for Love,’ directed by Wong Kar-wai (Wong, 2000). This film encapsulates heterotopia as a vessel of nostalgia, painting a tapestry where space and time blend the familiar with the unfamiliar. As the narrative unfolds, the protagonists, Mr. Chow and Mrs. Chan, become ensnared within a heterotopic realm—both disconnected and linked to the outer world. This private domain thrives on nostalgia, a yearning for a bygone era. The characters find solace in shared memories of a more innocent and romantic past, reenacting scenes from old films, donning vintage attire, and immersing themselves in reminiscent melodies. This nostalgic ambiance instills a poignant blend of pleasure and melancholy, reinforcing the idea of heterotopia as a realm oscillating between joy and sorrow. The film’s spatial representation echoes heterotopia as the characters inhabit environments diverging from conventional norms. Hidden alleys and stairwells paint a canvas that diverges from typical portrayals of Hong Kong, acting as heterotopias that mirror an alternate facet of the city (Jenks, 1995; Mercer, 1994).

The nostalgic undercurrent in ‘In the Mood for Love’ further embeds heterotopic elements. Memories and emotions become vehicles of otherness within the narrative, while the film’s unique use of sound and music—slow, melancholic melodies and ambient noises—crafts a surreal atmosphere. This auditory tapestry encapsulates heterotopia, enveloping audiences in an otherworldly ambiance (Shohat & Stam, 1994).

Wall as a heterotopia in films

In the film ‘Barton Fink’, helmed by Joel and Ethan Coen (Coen & Coen, 1991), the wall emerges as a potent heterotopic element, encapsulating the intricate struggles of the protagonist, Barton Fink, as he grapples with psychological and creative impediments. Fink, a playwright grappling with crafting a screenplay for a Hollywood studio, finds himself ensconced within a modest, dimly lit hotel room. The room exudes an aura of dilapidation, with its peeling wallpaper and a foreboding mosquito ensnared in a wall fixture (Jenks, 1995; Mercer, 1994; Shohat & Stam, 1994).

Embedded within Fink’s hotel room, the wall assumes the role of a heterotopic construct, mirroring the profound psychological and creative obstacles haunting him. This wall materializes as a tangible boundary, dividing Fink from the external world and fostering a sensation of constraint and detachment. The peeling wallpaper and the captive mosquito serve as potent metaphors for decay and stagnation, emblematic of Fink’s immobilized creative state.

The wall’s heterotopic essence is poignantly exemplified in the sequence where Fink becomes entranced by eerie sounds originating from an adjacent hotel room. Consumed by these enigmatic noises, he embarks on an obsession-driven quest, tearing away layers of wallpaper to unveil a perforation, affording a view into the neighboring chamber. This juncture symbolizes Fink’s fervent yearning to dismantle the psychological and creative barricades stifling his artistic expression.

In the film ‘Repulsion’ directed by Roman Polanski (Polanski, 1965), the wall is used as a heterotopic element to represent the psychological and emotional isolation experienced by the main character, Carol.

Throughout the film, Carol is depicted as a young woman who is increasingly disconnected from the world around her. She lives in a small apartment in London with her sister, but she is unable to connect with her sister’s boyfriend or with the other people in her life. As the film progresses, Carol’s isolation becomes more pronounced, and she begins to experience disturbing hallucinations and delusions.

The wall in Carol’s apartment can be seen as a heterotopic element that represents her psychological and emotional isolation. The wall serves as a physical barrier that separates Carol from the rest of the world and creates a sense of confinement and claustrophobia. In one scene, Carol is shown pressing her face against the wall, as if trying to break through the barrier that separates her from the world outside.

The use of the wall as a heterotopic element is particularly evident in the scene in which Carol’s sister and her boyfriend leave for a weekend trip. As soon as they leave, Carol begins to experience intense hallucinations and delusions, and the walls of her apartment seem to close in around her. The use of close-up shots and distorted camera angles creates a sense of disorientation and claustrophobia, highlighting Carol’s increasing sense of isolation and psychological breakdown.

Overall, the wall in ‘Repulsion’ can be seen as a heterotopic element that represents the psychological and emotional barriers that the main character is struggling to overcome. The use of the wall as a symbol of confinement and isolation creates a sense of unease and tension that is characteristic of the film’s exploration of the darker aspects of the human psyche.

Method

The films previously discussed in literature and film studies were generally perceived as exhibiting heterotopic characteristics in their narratives. Additionally, films like ‘Barton Fink’ and ‘Repulsion’ examined the concept of the wall as a heterotopic barrier, symbolically segregating characters from the outside world. However, a comprehensive exploration detailing the heterotopic nature of the wall through the lens of Foucault’s six principles was notably absent, leaving a gap in the understanding of how the wall functioned beyond being a mere obstruction.

This research employs a meticulous approach that intricately weaves the concept of heterotopia through its six foundational principles. It places a particular emphasis on conducting an in-depth qualitative textual analysis within the context of two films: ‘The Resident’ (Jokinen, 2011) and ‘The Boy’ (Bell, 2016). By systematically applying Foucault’s principles, this study illuminates the intricate interplay of these principles within the intricate fabric of these cinematic works. The method employed dissects the manifestation of these principles in the cinematic realms, shedding light on how heterotopia enriches the dynamics of storytelling and unveils concealed layers of meaning within these films.

The selection of these films is purposeful; although they might not have gained recognition at film festivals, they exemplify a broader trend in cinema where the wall functions as a pivotal character and an ideal space, contributing to the plot’s development and the character’s exploration. Their significance lies in their recent release, with the films dating back to 2011 and 2016, respectively. Notably, the wall serves as a central motif throughout these films, establishing it as a significant element that is inherently intertwined with the narrative. The choice of psychological thriller genre films that feature the wall as an inhabitable entity further enhances their suitability for this study.

The Resident

‘The Resident’, directed by Jokinen in 2011, is a psychological thriller that delves into the unsettling world of Dr. Juliet, a tenant residing in a New York City apartment. Dr. Juliet initially appears to be living a normal life, but as the story unfolds, the film gradually exposes the disturbing truth lurking beneath the surface.

Dr. Juliet is the central character whose life takes a dark turn when she becomes increasingly aware of peculiar occurrences within her apartment. As the narrative progresses, it becomes evident that her seemingly ordinary living space is anything but. The film employs a series of sequences to depict Max, her seemingly innocuous landlord, navigating through narrow and unconventional spaces filled with construction materials, paint, and water pipes.

The climax of the film unveils the chilling revelation that these spaces are not corridors, but rather walls concealed behind Dr. Juliet’s apartment. Max has been living within these walls, surreptitiously watching her every move. Through the discovery of video tapes, Dr. Juliet learns that Max has gone to the horrifying extent of violating her while she sleeps.

The film further intensifies the tension as Dr. Juliet comes face-to-face with Max, only to find herself locked inside her own apartment with him. The unsettling relationships portrayed in the film undergo a bizarre deviation as Max seemingly appears inside her apartment despite being locked out. As she hides in the bathroom, Max’s aggressive actions escalate, leading to a climactic confrontation where he drags her towards the very walls that have concealed his dark intentions.

In a moment of realization, Dr. Juliet discovers that the walls surrounding her apartment form a labyrinth-like structure, with entrances and exits that only lead back to her dwelling. As she grapples with the unfamiliarity of the outside world and the realization that she is trapped, she attempts to defend herself against Max’s advances using a pin drill. Max grabbed her briefly and blamed her of not dragging him out of those walls. He considered it as an act of betrayal.

The Boy

‘The Boy’ is a psychological thriller film released in 2016, directed by William Brent Bell. The story revolves around Greta Evans, a young American woman who accepts a job as a nanny in a remote English village. Upon arriving at her destination, she discovers that her employers, the Heelshires, have a peculiar request: to care for their son Brahms, who turns out to be a lifelike porcelain doll.

As Greta starts her duties, she initially treats the doll with skepticism, assuming it’s a coping mechanism for the Heelshires’ grief over their deceased son. However, she soon realizes that the couple believes the doll is alive and enforces a strict set of rules for its care. As Greta adheres to these rules, odd occurrences begin to take place, including the doll seemingly moving on its own and mysterious noises echoing through the house.

The twist in the story comes when Greta accidentally breaks the doll’s head, triggering a series of strange and ominous events. The walls of the house begin to shake, and a hidden compartment behind one of them is revealed. From this hidden space emerges a real, living boy named Brahms Heelshire, who had been hidden away due to disfigurement caused by facial burns.

The revelation that Brahms is alive and has been secretly living within the walls for a decade completely subverts the audience’s expectations. The film shifts from a supernatural thriller to a psychological thriller, as the truth behind the doll’s existence is laid bare. The shocking twist forces Greta and the viewers to reevaluate everything they thought they knew about the Heelshire family and their mysterious ways.

The plot takes a turn when the nanny Greta and her friend Malcolm attempt to escape from the boy’s unsettling presence. In their bid to evade him, they venture into the walls of the mansion, only to unveil a labyrinthine network of passages hidden within. This revelation transforms the walls from mere physical barriers into a complex, multifaceted and unsettling structure that plays a crucial role in the narrative’s unfolding.

As Greta and Malcolm navigate this intricate web of passages, they stumble upon a room containing some letters, dresses and some of Greta’s personal belongings. This discovery adds to the enigma of the house, suggesting a deeper connection between the hidden passages and the boy’s peculiar existence. The tension mounts as Greta realizes that the boy had been silently observing her through the walls, leading to a sense of surveillance and unease that pervades the atmosphere.

As the pair delves further into the passages, more secrets of the house come to light. It becomes evident that the walls are akin to a maze, each passage eventually leading to a single destination: the boy’s room ensconced within the wall. This revelation highlights the intricate design of the mansion’s structure, serving as a metaphor for the convoluted and hidden aspects of the boy’s history and motives.

The incorporation of the walls as a complex network of passages adds a layer of psychological depth to the story. The walls cease to be mere physical boundaries and instead become conduits of mystery and revelation, reflecting the boy’s pervasive influence and the hidden truths that they contain. This creative use of architectural elements as pivotal plot devices contributes to the film’s suspenseful atmosphere and underscores the theme of confinement and concealment.

Wall as a place

The crisis that Foucault referred to in the first principle of heterotopia is related to individuals who are exiled from their community or covered up for certain societal reasons and beliefs. Max’s trust issues and fear of others led to a distorted personality, which ultimately caused him to lock himself behind a wall and live inside it. The parents of the boy in the film were the rulers of society, and they created a crisis that prevented the boy from being accepted by the community due to his burned face. As a result, he covered himself and hid behind a wall. In both films, the wall created a non-space, as it was initially just a divider between rooms and halls. The concept of experience holds great significance within the context of heterotopias being linked to deviance, whether in cultural, social, or political realms. It proposes that a heterotopia can serve as a realm of deviation, wherein the intriguing possibility arises that such a deviant space is not inherently predetermined or assigned. Instead, it emerges through deliberate actions aimed at challenging prevailing norms or redefining an existing space by imbuing it with new identity or purpose.

When Dr. Juliet and Greta discovered the space behind the wall, it became a placeless place.

Heterotopias have a relative function in relation to the worlds in which they exist. They can serve as illusory mirrors that reflect a recognizable variation of reality, or as idealised structures that mimic and improve upon an already inhabited version of reality.

The non-space behind the wall provided a suitable context to conceal the distorted mental state portrayed by the wall. The external space of the wall was built to present an illusion of the ideal life desired by both Max and the Boy. The space behind the wall acted as a mirror, reflecting their anger and their distinct dark side. The wall brought forth a space intentionally crafted to confine pathology or behavioral deviations. Its primary objective was to create a separation between Max and the Boy and their own physical beings, mitigating potential disruptions, particularly guarding against the spread of societal disturbances

The Boy’s world was gloomy, constructed from loosely connected wooden studs that allowed him to sneak through. The wall’s one-meter depth created a series of interconnected corridors, including those leading to the mansion, intersecting in his room, which had stairs leading to another chain of corridors on the upper level. The room was softly lit and filled with items like letters, clothes, and accessories that seemingly did not belong to him. In contrast, Max’s world was smaller and different. His wall formed a linear corridor that encircled Dr. Juliet’s apartment on one side. The corridor was disorderly, dark, and full of construction materials, metal pipes on the ceiling, and on the floor.

In both films, the walls have been enlarged from a 40 cm thickness into a one-meter span corridor that has life inside it. Figure 3 (a) shows the imagined wall between Juliet’s apartment and her neighbor. The wall surrounds the living room, and the bathroom. Figure 3(b) and 3(c) also illustrates the imagined wall surrounding the kitchen and the sitting room on the ground floor, and the wall surrounding her wardrobe and bedroom on the first floor, respectively.

Figure 3. (a) Wall becomes a place: A conceptual map of the imagined wall of Dr Juliet’s flat at The Resident 2011, authors. (b) Wall becomes a place: A conceptual map of the imagined wall of the ground level of the boy, The Boy 2016, authors. (c) Wall becomes a place: A conceptual map of the imagined wall of the upper level of the boy, The Boy 2016, authors.

Drawing a parallel with the first and sixth principle of heterotopia, one could view the wall as a place. Foucault’s first principle of heterotopias introduces the notion of varied forms of these spaces, each possessing dual meanings. One such type is the ‘crisis heterotopia’, where individuals undergoing a crisis are secluded according to societal norms.

Over time, these crisis heterotopias have faded, supplanted by the ‘heterotopia of deviations’. This newer variety features individuals with behaviors diverging from societal standards, situated in unconventional locations like psychiatric hospitals and prisons. This framework contextualizes the exploration of the wall as a heterotopic element within the films ‘The Boy’ and ‘The Resident’.

In ‘The Boy’, the wall takes on a symbolic role, representing the crisis heterotopia. The boy, hidden within the walls, reflects a concealed existence driven by societal judgments. His facial burns and the isolation he endures reflect the struggle of living in a heterotopia of crisis, where his unconventional appearance isolates him from the regular world. The nanny, Gretta, enters into this heterotopia, engaging with the boy as she confronts her own personal issues, encompassing loneliness and the trauma of an abusive relationship.

In ‘The Resident’, the wall assumes a distinct function. Max’s living within the walls aligns with the heterotopia of deviations. Max deviates from societal norms through his voyeuristic and predatory behavior, invading Dr. Juliet’s personal space and violating her privacy. The wall serves as a boundary between Max’s disturbing actions and the outside world. Dr. Juliet’s experience embodies the sixth principle of heterotopias. Her interactions with the wall oscillate between illusion and reality, culminating in her discovering the truth behind Max’s actions.

Both films delve into societal issues, depicting the impact of crisis and deviations on individuals’ lives. In ‘The Boy’, the boy’s hidden existence addresses the societal stigmatization of physical differences, highlighting how such norms lead to isolation. In ‘The Resident’, the narrative explores the effects of voyeurism, stalking, and the violation of personal boundaries. The wall in both films operates as a powerful symbol, representing the characters’ personal struggles, societal pressures, and the blurred boundaries between real and unreal spaces, as Foucault’s principles of heterotopia articulate.

Wall as a Labyrinth

The need for shelter has always been a fundamental requirement for humans, and walls have historically played a vital role in providing protection to their territories. However, when the purpose of shelter shifts from protection to invasion, the wall takes on a different role. In both ‘The Boy’ and ‘The Resident’, the Boy and Max repurposed the wall, transforming it from a protective barrier to a transparent and open space that facilitated easy surveillance of their victims. This was not exposed until the end of both films, when the victims themselves realised that the walls were see-through, allowing their rooms to be observed from the other side. See Figure 4, the moment Greta realises how approximate and vulnerable she was.

Figure 4. Gretta looks at her room through the wall, The Boy 2016, reproduced by Mays Dweiri.

The transformation of a space’s function into something else generates the second principle of heterotopia. This causes the wall to stand out as a heterotopian space because it contrasts with the surrounding areas. Incompatible and related spaces coexist within a shared space. The wall brings together two worlds within a single space: the ideal, well-designed room, and the cozy home that both Max and the Boy yearned for, with their true reflections encapsulated inside the wall. Outside the wall existed a heterotopic environment, an unreal, virtual space that represented the desires of both antagonists. This is referred to as ‘mirrorworlds’ by Foucault (Michel Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986, p. 24). Nevertheless, this mirror is not perfect or tangible; it is intangible and reflects both the self and the opposite. While the self hides inside the wall, the opposite stands outside the wall.

The discussion of the mirror world raises the phenomenon of the ‘double’, where each character faces dual lives and environments. Freud connected this concept to the unintentional repetition phenomenon, where a person encounters the same thing they previously observed while walking through a space. Freud personally encountered this phenomenon on a stroll in an Italian town, when he ascribed his disorientation to the notion of unintentional recurrence. This process imbues the experience with an unfamiliar quality, prompting the individual to reflect upon notions of certainty and destiny. According to Freud, this repetition raises the awareness and the presence of the body. The recurrence of encountering the woman in Freud’s case study served to broaden his awareness and enhance his bodily presence (Freud, 2003).

There is a commonality between the chain of walls Greta and Dr. Juliet walked through and the town Freud strolled through. The doubling of situations, experiences, and spaces occurred in both cases. Greta and Dr. Juliet moved between walls and revisited their rooms from various angles through the walls. Both of them moved through a chain of walls that restricted their movement and created spatial deprivation. When they revealed their bedrooms from the wall, it expanded their consciousness and was a moment of existence.

The act of navigating through a sequence of walls evokes the ideas presented in George Bataille’s writings (1971–1988) (Hanich, 2010, 2017, 2020), where he views the prison as a project characterised by a labyrinthine structure that induces psychological distress. The only way for prisoners to escape is to close themselves within the labyrinth. The metaphorical representation arises from the spatial configuration that gives rise to the labyrinth, wherein the distinction between expulsion and enclosure becomes indiscernible. The spatial environment is comprised exclusively of openings, the precise function of which remains ambiguous. It is indeterminable whether these pathways direct individuals towards the inside or outside spaces, or if they serve the purpose of departing or arriving (Hollier, 1993, p. 61).

The comparison between prison and the labyrinth arises from the uncertain and unrepresentable future that generates anxiety, as described by Hollier (1993). This metaphorical structure creates a sense of entrapment and sensory deprivation, leading to psychological compression and shock, much like the experience of prisoners. Greta and Dr. Juliet, as captives within the walls, undergo similar psychological distress, stemming from spatial deprivation and the power dynamics of the labyrinth-like space. According to Hanich (2010), labyrinths are often disorienting and isolating, with no clear way out. This feeling is intensified through the doubling of environments and the shaky, first-person point of view shots within the wall. These elements further emphasise the second and third principles of heterotopia, which make the wall resemble a labyrinth. Figure 5 (a) represents the wall next to Juliet’s flat at ‘The Resident,’ the 40 cm wall depth turned out to be a labyrinth of corridors and props, filled with a ‘see through’ holes towards Juliet’s flat. It reveals an entrapped space with a dead-end. Figure 5 (b) represents the walls between the two-floor mansion at ‘The Boy,’ they create a labyrinth leading to the Boy’s room on the ground level, taking it up to the second level where the wall extends to penetrate Greta’s bedroom, wardrobe and the other rooms.

Figure 5. (a) Wall as labyrinth, Max’s labyrinth, The Resident 2011, authors. (b) Wall as labyrinth, The boy’s labyrinth, The Boy 2016, authors.

The concept of the wall as a transgression mentioned earlier by Hanich (2020) of intangible boundaries resonates with the idea of the wall as a labyrinth in a profound manner. Just as the wall can breach and challenge the conventional boundaries of senses, time, age, and gender identities, it also embodies a spatial experience that transcends the physical realm. The wall’s multifaceted role as a boundary, both physical and abstract, aligns seamlessly with the labyrinthine nature that embodies dual experiences within its structure.

When considering the wall as a labyrinth, its double experiences manifest in various layers. Physically, the wall stands as a barrier between spaces, much like a labyrinth’s intricate paths challenge movement and navigation. Yet, just as the wall transgresses intangible boundaries, the labyrinth’s maze-like structure pushes beyond the realm of simple physicality. The labyrinth becomes a realm where the journey transcends the physical act of moving from one point to another, touching upon cognitive, emotional, and psychological dimensions.

This interconnectedness of the wall as a transgressor of intangible boundaries and the labyrinth’s dual experiences can be further observed through the films ‘The Boy’ and ‘The Resident’. In both narratives, the walls not only serve as physical barriers but also extend into the realm of psychological confinement and manipulation. Similarly, the labyrinthine spaces encountered in the films mirror this duality, presenting both physical challenges and metaphorical journeys through complex emotions, memories, and power dynamics. Just as a labyrinth’s twists and turns lead to unexpected revelations, the walls in the films navigate viewers through the intricate dimensions of possession, control, and transgression.

Wall as a surveillance form and a panoptic power

Throughout Foucault’s work, there are numerous indications of his perceptiveness towards spatial arrangement. This sensitivity underscores the crucial role spatial order plays in establishing power dynamics, shaping individual identity, functioning as an essential element in various practices, and serving as a foundational aspect of events. Additionally, it signifies his recognition of the significance of territorial attributes.

The interplay of the third, fourth, and fifth principles of heterotopia with the concept of power is evident through their manifestation within various spatial and temporal constructs.

The third principle, encompassing the capacity of heterotopias to juxtapose incongruent spaces, is linked to power through the spatial manipulation that results in control over knowledge and accessibility. This power can be exemplified in the context of labyrinths, where spatial arrangement dictates movement, ultimately influencing the power dynamics within these constructed spaces. Sociologist Kevin Hetherington (2003) asserts that heterotopias defy fixed description, continuously harboring multiple and shifting meanings based on the positions individuals hold within their power dynamics. This perspective aligns with Foucault’s third principle of heterotopia, where he explores the profound and layered meanings contained within spaces such as the ancient Oriental garden (1986a: 25). Hetherington further contends that the paradox of freedom and control defines both heterotopic conditions and the utopianism of modernity. Foucault’s inquiry into the meanings of heterotopias echoes Hetherington’s observations, encapsulating the dual nature of these spaces. Hetherington’s examination of the Palais Royal in Paris as a space of modernity exemplifies the tension within heterotopology, encompassing both social ordering and the ambivalent play of freedom (Hetherington, 2003). Despite their apparent contradiction, these aspects can be seen as manifestations of what Foucault terms ‘permissive power’, which operates through the semblance of freedom while simultaneously functioning as control or governmentality, often veiling surveillance under the guise of difference and transgression.

Considering the dynamics of power, it becomes crucial to acknowledge that enclaves like modern urban queer spaces provide a semblance of freedom. However, they remain constrained by social control mechanisms and are spatially delineated, often segregated based on factors such as race and gender. This circumstance imbues them with an air of illusion. Essentially, the sense of liberation felt within these spaces, challenging the established social order, hinges upon the conditional allowance of power by a prevailing framework of rights.

Through this lens, the third principle of heterotopias prompts us to explore the boundaries of possibility and imagination within the context of spatial design, inviting us to question the very nature of space and the intricate relationships between seemingly disparate elements that coexist within it.

The fourth principle, which pertains to time heterotopias like museums, aligns with power through the representation and preservation of time. Museums curate and exhibit objects from various eras, exercising power over the interpretation and preservation of history. This curated representation reflects the control of knowledge and narrative, impacting the way people perceive history and cultures. Preserving time and controlling the way people receive it reflects another dimension of control; the temporal dimension. The power and control inherent in the labyrinthine structure result in both sensual and spatial deprivation, ultimately elevating the wall to a form of surveillance and panoptic power.

Surveillance Studies is an interdisciplinary field that merges insights from sociology, psychology, organization studies, and science and technology studies. It intertwines with Foucault’s work, particularly his exploration in ‘Discipline and Punish’ originally in (1977), where he analyzes Bentham’s Panopticon. The foundation laid by ‘Discipline and Punish’ forms the backdrop for varied examinations of normalization’s power and the generation of knowledge within contemporary society. Foucault’s intent is clear: he seeks to furnish a historical context for studies on power’s normalization effects and knowledge formation (Michel Foucault, 1995). This historical perspective centers on knowledge, not physical objects, though material aspects may bear this knowledge’s imprint. Power’s influence, characterized by its directed, often dramatic, and at times deadly impact on bodies, undergoes transformation through an understanding of both individual and collective human natures. These transformations, guided by reason, science, and humanism, have implications for notions of justice and the role of the body. His book’s two parts delve into the shift from physical punishment and public execution to enlightened perspectives on criminality and the humanization of penal practices. This transition extends to formulating punishments aligned with the offense, even etching them onto the body. Crucially, it involves spatial and temporal regulation: time is segmented for control, and space is shaped for enclosure and division. Foucault specifically identifies Bentham’s Panopticon as an architectural embodiment of this approach. The Panopticon’s essence is to render inmates perpetually visible to a presumed observer, instilling a state of conscious visibility that sustains power’s automatic operation. This ‘light’ power diverges from the monarch’s ‘heavy’ power, for the prisoner, by self-observation, becomes the agent of their subordination (Michel Foucault, 1995, p. 203).

The term ‘discipline’ embodies the operational framework of power, enabling the manipulation of the societal entity down to its most minute constituents, effectively targeting individuals. This entails employing methods that individualize the exertion of power—strategies for supervising, regulating behavior, molding skills, enhancing productivity, and amplifying capabilities. Discipline, involves orchestrating individuals into positions where their utility is maximized.

In both ‘The Boy’ and ‘The Resident’, the wall takes on a role of guiding spatial and temporal exploration for Greta and Juliet. As watchers closely monitor Greta and Dr. Juliet, the passage of time unfolds in intricate layers, granting the observers unique insight. The wall assumes the role of a gatekeeper, demanding a ritualistic approach for access. This restricted access is exclusive to the watchers, fortifying the vulnerability of Greta and Dr. Juliet, subject to continuous scrutiny. However, the walls’ confines are shattered by an unexpected outburst of anger, extending an invitation for Greta and Dr. Juliet to break through their limitations and venture within.

This dynamic aligns with the fifth principle of heterotopia, characterized by the creation of isolated yet penetrable spaces known as heterotopias of rituals. These realms wield power by controlling access, fostering a sense of exclusivity, and enabling authoritative figures to govern entry and exit. Such regulated rituals mirror the power dynamics at play, wherein select individuals gain entry based on predetermined criteria.

This power of surveillance recalls the one comes through Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s social contract concept, which revolves around the idea that individuals come together to form a society based on mutual agreement and consent, originally in 1762. He posited that in the state of nature, humans were essentially free and equal, but also vulnerable and prone to conflict. To overcome the challenges of the state of nature, Rousseau proposed the creation of a social contract, a hypothetical agreement where individuals voluntarily give up certain rights and freedoms in exchange for security, order, and the benefits of a collective community (Shand, 2015).

In terms of social contract theory, the relationship between Greta and Brahms (the boy) can be seen as a metaphor for the social contract between individuals and society. Greta, as a nanny, enters into a social contract with the elderly couple to care for the doll Brahms, in exchange for protection and security provided by the couple. This mirrors the idea of individuals giving up some of their individual freedoms in exchange for protection and security provided by the government, according to Rousseau’s social contract theory.

However, as the film progresses, Greta begins to question the social contract she has entered into. She realizes that the elderly couple’s belief in Brahms as their real son is a form of denial that has allowed them to avoid dealing with their loss.

Within the house’s heterotopic space, the relationship between Greta and Brahms can be seen as a metaphor for the power dynamics within the social contract. Greta is expected to care for Brahms as if he were the couple’s real son, in exchange for protection and security. This can be seen as a representation of the social contract, in which individuals are expected to give up some of their individual freedoms in exchange for protection and security provided by the government.

On the other hand, Juliet’s concrete agreement with Max concerning the apartment was palpable and factual. However, this contract extended exclusively to his surveillance over her, rendering her susceptible in exchange for a semblance of security and structure. He wielded control over who was granted entry to her living space and who was deemed unwelcome. Alongside the tangible contract, an intangible one loomed: Max’s psychological accord, marking an exclusive relationship defined by his authority alone.

Within the realm of Heterotopia, where knowledge and power interweave, the universe is meticulously crafted by its owners, along with their rules and protocols, serving as mechanisms to govern users’ experiences. Both Max in ‘The Resident’ and the boy in ‘The Boy’ wield this authority over Juliet and Greta, where adherence to their established protocols becomes imperative.

The wall in both films emerges as a pivotal symbol embodying this surveillance-driven authority, akin to a platform of panoptic power. From behind the walls, Max and the boy assert dominance by meticulously observing and manipulating Juliet and Greta, dictating their movements and interactions. The spatial confines of the wall serve as both a physical and psychological boundary, emblematic of the power dynamics at play. Just as Foucault’s concept of panopticism involves a central gaze overseeing the observed, the wall encapsulates a similar surveillance-driven mechanism where knowledge and control converge.

In essence, the wall is the embodiment of the owners’ panoptic power, representing not only the physical containment of their subjects but also the manipulation of their behaviors and actions. Through this lens, the wall transforms into a site where knowledge becomes a tool of control, and power thrives through the imposition of protocols and surveillance. The two films, ‘The Boy’ and ‘The Resident’, serve as compelling examples of how Heterotopia’s intricate web of knowledge and power is actualized through the symbolism and function of the wall, accentuating the manipulation and control exerted by their respective owners.

Conclusion

Heterotopias encompass spaces characterized by distinct identities, significance, and designated functions, those that can be encompassed within a topos or topoi. Given that the wall not only signifies separation or demarcation but also embodies additional meanings and purposes, it is fitting to classify it as a heterotopia, as it goes beyond its boundary role to encompass varied identities and functions.

In conclusion, the exploration of the wall through the lens of the heterotopia concept illuminates its multi-dimensional significance and defies conventional disciplinary confines. The spatial perspective provides a rich avenue for uncovering the narratives embedded within the wall, highlighting its complex role as a boundary, a symbol, and a narrative device. The various dimensions of the wall, as understood through the inner reflections of characters like the boy and Max, its spatial structure, and the labyrinthine experience of navigating its passages, contribute to its heterotopic nature.

Viewed from the perspective of the wall itself, it becomes an encapsulated universe, a heterotopia that separates and defines its own space, distinct from the external world. This is reminiscent of Foucault’s principles, particularly the concepts of crisis heterotopias and heterotopias of deviation. The wall oscillates between revealing all real spaces and creating an alternative space, embodying both illusion and compensation.

Furthermore, the wall’s evolution into a panoptic power and surveillance mechanism aligns with the third, fourth and fifth principles of heterotopia. Its ability to isolate, control, and freeze time accentuates its role as a gatekeeper of knowledge and a platform of power. In this regard, the wall’s transformation into an inhabited labyrinth further substantiates its role as a heterotopia, uniting disparate spaces within its boundaries.

The significance of this study extends to the realm of filmmaking and writing, offering filmmakers a unique approach to create ‘ideal spaces’ termed by Hetherington that explore themes of memory, nostalgia, and time. For writers, the analysis of the wall as a heterotopia provides a structured framework to infuse depth and meaning into narratives by leveraging the principles of heterotopia.

In redefining the meaning of the wall, it becomes evident that its role transcends mere physicality. It emerges as a boundary that transgresses not only spatial confines but also intangible boundaries of senses, time, age, and gender identities. As a representation of an idealized space, the wall contains marginalized bodies, creating a conceivable utopian space. By embracing the principles of heterotopia, the wall becomes a transformative tool, unlocking new dimensions of narrative potential and inviting audiences to perceive spaces, time, and power dynamics in fresh and thought-provoking ways.

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No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Lama B. Abuhassan

Lama B. Abuhassan is an accomplished academic in architecture and filmmaking, with a Ph.D. in Cinematic Architecture from Cardiff University. She holds Masters degrees in Fine Arts in Filmmaking and in Architecture, focusing on Cinematic Architecture. Lama’s career includes roles such as Assistant Professor at the College of Architecture and Design at the University of Petra and Projects’ Director at SPACES. She has made significant contributions to the Jordanian film industry as a film producer, creating many short films and TV promo series, notably the award-winning “The Last Hour” and “The Dark Outside.” Her belief in the transformative power of film has led her to integrate research and teaching in the film industry for the new generation. Recently, she has contributed to the foundation of the Digital Film Design Technology program at the University of Petra. Her research spans Phenomenology, Design, Art, Museology, and Film Studies, reflecting her unique interdisciplinary expertise at the intersection of architecture and film.

Mays M. Dweiri

Mays M. Dweiri is a highly accomplished professional with a strong educational background and a diverse range of expertise. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Architecture and a Master’s degree in Animation Design, which have equipped her with a comprehensive understanding of spatial design and a deep passion for the world of animation. Beyond her practical experience as a fine artist and animator, Mays is also deeply intrigued by the realms of research and academia. She actively engages in research to expand her knowledge and contribute to the advancement of animation, film, spatial design, and visual storytelling. Currently, Mays holds a prominent faculty position at the University of Petra’s esteemed College of Architecture and Design, within the Animation and Multimedia Department. As a faculty member, she not only imparts her wealth of knowledge and expertise to aspiring students but also conducts research initiatives that explore innovative techniques and concepts in her field of interest. Driven by her dedication to research and her passion for animation, film, spatial design, and visual storytelling, Mays constantly pushes the boundaries of her artistic abilities. Through her work, she strives to create captivating and meaningful experiences for viewers while making valuable contributions to the academic community through her research endeavors.