Marking time with Christian Marclay
Attention to the exact time of day is a modern phenomenon that was brought in by the expansion of the railways. Required to depart and arrive at set times, and joining up parts of the country at speeds previously unimagined, the railways brought the British Isles together with unified timekeeping for the first time. Constant checking of our watch, clock or phone is probably something that each of us now do without much thought.
Like all the best artwork, however, Christian Marclay’s The Clock makes you think about this simple act in a whole new light. Marclay’s work is a real-time 24-hour film focused on time and clocks. It splices together thousands of short film and television clips in which people consult or discuss the time, or where a clock is simply part of the scene’s background. Add a myriad other small scenes and you build a wonderful picture of the shape of a human day that is driven by time, as the minutes flow past.
Clever editing means that a figure in one scene will look down at their watch, followed by a different protagonist looking up from theirs; likewise with people walking in and out of doors. At certain points two films art cut in and out of each other to particularly striking effect. The films are predominantly English-language English or American, but French, German and Japanese also feature.
I’d heard of Marclay’s film for some years so was excited to learn it was coming to Tate Modern last year, especially as a number of overnight openings offered the chance to watch the 10pm-10am segment of the film which is normally unseen. In two sittings I’ve seen the segments from 10.30pm to 3.00am and from 10.30am to 12.30pm. It’s an experience that I find I constantly think back to as I go about my time-structured days, and which has raised a number of thoughts about the culture of time, clocks and films.
It is fascinating what kinds of activities people in films tend to perform at different times of day. In my night-time slot, after lots of people going to bed, characters were almost exclusively a) woken up by the phone ringing, b) having sex, or c) the victim in a horror film. The morning slot was more varied, including breakfast; lots of trains; meetings; people waiting for, or running late for, something; and a number of explosions. High noon involved a pleasing number of westerns.
I was struck by how comparatively few of the films I recognised (although I hardly claim to be a film buff) and how many were early black and white examples. Equally, those I did recognise were rarely scenes in which I remembered the time being a primary plot point. If nothing else, The Clock offers you a startling tour through cinematic history, and an enjoyable opportunity to spot famous actors and scenes.
The sheer variety of designs of timekeepers is striking. Some of the horror villains had glorious whole-wall affairs with menacing pendulums, but there was also an impressive array of pocket watches, digital alarm clocks and all-singing all-dancing wrist watches. Likewise, I enjoyed the tour of impressive station clocks as people ran, parted sadly for, or just missed trains. (Incidentally, it was surprising how few airports featured by comparison).
There’s also an interesting gendering of activities. It is often women waking men up, women waiting for something, or paying careful attention to the time. The men are usually running late, shooting or blowing something up, and always have the flashier watches.
This film is utterly compelling in a way that is hard to convey through merely explaining its set-up. As the events run past you are acutely aware of time passing but also of each small segment of narrative. It is a mesmerising demonstration of the power of time and its technologies in our society.