Architectural and artistic practitioner Shonfield ploughs a fertile furrow in this far-reaching discussion of the construction of twentieth century urban space, and its representation in film. Drawing heavily on European cultural theorists of the 'everyday', Walter Benjamin and Henri Lefebvre, she explores a similar space to the filmmaker Patrick Keiller (London, Robinson in Space), using narrative film and fiction as a means of breaking down the implicit specialisms of architecture and urban planning and asking what the alternatives are to flats that leak and urban planning that separates the city-dweller from the city.
She begins with an analysis of post-war brutalist architecture, which elevated structural transparency to the moral authority of 'honestly' representing society, and as a consequence produced bland, dehumanised interiors and the tragically flimsy Ronan Point tower block. Roman Polanski's two films of interior horror, Repulsion and Rosemary's Baby are then used to discuss what happens when the apparently inviolable walls of modern apartment blocks are ruptured and disintegrate, allowing the outside to invade the inside world.
Moving from the home to the street, Julie Christie in Darling and Michael Caine in Alfie are presented as mirror images: the male/female flaneur, operating in the public space of the streets between the commodified interior of the home and the refeminised interior of the executive boardroom. In Jean-Luc Godard's One or Two Things that I Know About Her, the prostitute-housewife Jeanette is a victim of the same violence done to Paris by the construction of the Périphérique, the ringroad arbitrarily dividing the city; she is 'at one and the same time the whole of France... forced to live in the wrecked constituents of her own formerly coherent body'
Shonfield uses Marxist and structuralist theory to examine both how capitalism reinforces the division of labour with the spatial division between work and home, and how 'pollution taboos' operate to eliminate the viscosity that denies such separation. But the real power of Walls Have Feelings is its use of film as a temporary revelation, a medium that offers sudden and perplexing insights into the way that our houses are built and our cities manufactured.