Marguerite Duras and the Quiet Destruction Of Cinematic Norms

Words: Arijana Zeric

Make it stand out

A major retrospective of the work of Marguerite Duras is taking place at the ICA between July and August, showing work by the French literary eccentric that is rarely seen. Marguerite Duras is known as one of the leading authors of the Nouveau Roman movement, but when she began as a filmmaker her experimental musings were praised, yet they still remain wildly underrated. 

She is most famous for writing the Academy Award nominated script for Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959) but unlike other female auteurs of her time such as Varda and Akerman, Duras’s work still inexplicably flies under the radar. Her refusal to compromise paired with her innovative approach to her aesthetic, style and narrative structures are no easy watch but this is exactly what she railed against.

Duras films emerged during the 60s, in the midst of student revolutions and at a time when French feminism questioned female spectatorship, with a desire to challenge existing power structures. Her minimalist cinema is boldly experimental and doesn't seek to entertain. Instead, it is loaded with sparse dialogue and is a defiant answer to all male directors who have adapted her books in a way she didn't find adequate. She criticised that they would “pre-digest” her works and simplify them for the masses. Duras didn’t insist on labelling herself a feminist, simply stating that “men and women, they are different”, yet her cinema re-discovers feminine spaces and introduces new feminine narratives, contrary to the objectifying male gaze cinema that was the norm. 
___STEADY_PAYWALL___

Her cinematic simplicity isn’t only a stylistic choice but a tool that she uses to further entice intellectual engagement. It’s surprising that she repeatedly worked with icons such as Delphine Seyrig, Gerard Depardieu and close friend Jeanne Moreau, who reportedly signed up for Nathalie Granger without having read the script. These collaborations can be viewed as a statement that she wasn't going to compromise on style despite her minimalist approach. 

“All of her films have an impeccable taste for style, framing and composition in common.”

Nathalie Granger (1972) is considered to be her most “militant” film in which two women are seemingly confined to a private house, yet the subversive meaning has been flipped on its head. Initially, the house represents the everlasting, universal symbol of imprisonment for women, hence the perpetual shots of walls, doors, corridors and the eventual staring-out-the-window, suggesting deep rooted acceptance of generational entrapment. In this instance, menial housework becomes the plot and is elevated to “work” status as we zoom into their hands, daily chores documented. The disruption of pre-conceived gender hierarchies is created by the women’s refusal to take part in society, not answering phone calls and often just lounging on the sofa for extensive periods of time, unwilling to do anything. This is even more heightened when Gerard Depardieu enters the scene and is unable to retain their attention. The women remain silent, uninterested, unimpressed, simply uttering a distinct “no” after his introduction as a salesman. In response he cannot help but try to affirm again and again that he is in fact a salesman, until he reaches the point where he doesn't seem to know who he is anymore. 

 
In La Musica (1967) Duras adapts her own play about a couple coming to terms with the end of their relationship. The spacious interior compliments the elegance of the estranged, bourgeois couple and even mirrors their strategic movements which are akin to chess figures. The conversation takes sudden twists and turns, violent threats are suppressed, outbursts of passion and the male shadow pacing up and down across the woman's face is a hauntingly beautiful depiction of the entire situation: the conflict is unresolved. 

Their relationship is a ghost from the past, still chasing them both until Delphine Seyrig moves out of the frame, on to her next lover. It is Interesting that the only other female figure is a young woman, fresh out of college who finds herself courted by the man occasionally, he comes and goes as he experiences bouts of sexual desire. But she is lost, not knowing what she wants and where she is going, she avoids any responsibility and he makes no secret that he really has no interest in what she has to say. The woman he really wants and who sends him into despair is his equal. 

Duras’ India Song (1975) shows a radical dismantling of cinematic norms. Following the example of Last Year at Marienbad, Delphine Seyrig forgets her many lovers whilst they fight and scream to exist in her memory. What makes it so cutting edge is the absence of spoken dialogue as all words are prerecorded whilst the actors merely move their lips to the audio track, creating a noticeable distance in their rapport. The static quality of the film has a sultry undertone courtesy of composer Carlos d’Alessio and it highlights the beauty of the decadent chateau location. Having the dialogue as an off-voice is a stylistic choice that would reoccur in Duras’s films, creating a sense of detachment, that exists both in the film and with the viewer. 

All of her films have an impeccable taste for style, framing and composition in common. The interiors in Baxter, Vera Baxter (1977) are far from luxurious yet the light and space of each room helps the protagonists shine even brighter, details such as necklaces, shoes and the actors' slouched pose take centre stage to the point of eccentricity. La Musica’s interiors display perfect styling which could be described as “quiet luxury”, completely devoid of any unnecessary trinkets. Nathalie Granger’s home is the opposite and Moreau greets us with tired under-eye circles, her displeasure and I-don't-care attitude is engrained in the droopy corners of her mouth. Still, there’s a surprising element in the beautifully studded top, the perfectly brushed hair and the simple, fitted clothes. Duras renders each film elegantly atmospheric, inviting us to dive deep into her visually led cinema while she completely destroys established narrative norms. When films are heavily loaded with ideas and meaning, they are truly made for the cinema, an environment that doesn't allow for distractions. 

Let Cinema Go To Its Ruin: The Cinema of Marguerite Duras. 18 July - 25 August, tickets on sale now at the ICA.