I find Detruire dit-elle to lack much of the quality of great films directed by Duras, like Nathalie Granger and India song, but still think it interesting enough to see some times and write a few words about. Perhaps it is its more static feel, stressing a little bit too much that this is a play we are watching, that stops it from being a true cinematic experience. The current print is not very good either, but then the cinematography is also no more than adequate, as if it was a production for TV.
We are presented with a vast hotel and its garden with desolate chairs spread around. There is also a tennis court. Around the garden is the wood, which we only see from a distance but still hear its birds. The entire film consists of conversations between four people, five in the final scenes. Sometimes they talk right outside the hotel, sometimes right inside it. Of the interiors of the deserted hotel we do not see much, and of the surroundings nothing although we are told that there is a beautiful spot nearby. Not even the characters manage to see the spot. They all seem to be waiting or in desire of something, as so are we. This may produce some discontent. We are always denied any sort of visual pleasure, except for watching the characters speak. So what remains to get our attention is the rather complex dialogue, both off screen and on screen. What of it?
It seems to me that the discussions all circle around a game of storytelling. As in India Song, there are first two women commenting the "action" off screen. After a while, when the women are on screen, we hear the men comment. This puts the on screen dialogue in a sort of paranoid position, it is constantly overheard by the off screen voices. The men may speak about love, the women may speak about fear but all the time they are making up little stories for themselves, and for us. It seems that they are waiting also for something terrible, a destruction of sorts, to be brought about by the young. Well then, anything to pass the time. What the stories are about may not be of much interest but the way they go about telling them is.
The two men, both "german Jews"(when is this taking place?), are literary inclined, Stein is, in his own words, "in the process of becoming a writer", and Max Thor is a professor in French, also, according to his young wife Alissa, in a similar writing process. The two starts a strange cooperation: We are told by one of the off screen voices that "Max Thor writes what Stein watches". But we do not see this. So what do we trust, our eyes or our ears? Neither I guess but this is the kind of game I find interesting. We can say "this is not really happening" or "I do not believe what I hear or what I see" but the film is still there. If we play the game we have to see it. It gets a little cruel perhaps, especially towards the older, nervous Elizabeth who is waiting for her man, but she does not seem to mind; in fact she likes it. And I like it too. I like the way the rhythm is slowly working, never cutting scenes too fast but letting the characters rather soft and hesitant voices take effect. They never shout. These may be worried people but the way they worry is rather pleasant to witness, if I may say so.
There are also for our entertainment some, if rather basic, tricks with mirrors and with cards along that way that almost elevates the play into a film of sorts: When points of view shift, the stage at least is benefited by multiple ways of seeing. But mostly it is the talking that does it. Multiple talking, perhaps, but handled with great taste. From the little I have read about the films of Duras, it is the priority of the sound that is most discussed. The way it often is out of synch with what we see. Here there is not any sounds present which we cannot locate by what we see, just the birds and sound of the men playing tennis, but the sound of the voices still does their tricks with us. I find I listen to the voices the way I often, lazy, listen to music, as a sensory experience, without thinking too much about what I hear. The contrast for example between the whispering, lush voice of Alissa, playfully courting Stein; "Stein, mon amour" and his dry, matter of fact response, I find both hilarious and heartfelt, as if they are only playing, but that the playing of it makes it real.
The play gets a little out of hand when Elizabeth's husband Bernard arrives, as he is at first clearly unable to play by the "rules"; he is an alien figure in the play. When Alissa says that they have been very interested in his wife, he first gets upset but then when he learns that the interest was purely "for literary reasons", he is completely bewildered. He claims he does not read novels anymore, because they have ceased to be "stories". He is clearly the odd man out. And when Alissa simply says "Destroy", he is completely lost. But when Stein repeats "She said 'destroy'", Bernard looks like he suddenly is accepting the play, as he mutters "Anything is possible", says he wants to stay but then takes his wife and leaves.
And? The end is dark and surprising. Not to be told, so see (hear) for yourself.
We are presented with a vast hotel and its garden with desolate chairs spread around. There is also a tennis court. Around the garden is the wood, which we only see from a distance but still hear its birds. The entire film consists of conversations between four people, five in the final scenes. Sometimes they talk right outside the hotel, sometimes right inside it. Of the interiors of the deserted hotel we do not see much, and of the surroundings nothing although we are told that there is a beautiful spot nearby. Not even the characters manage to see the spot. They all seem to be waiting or in desire of something, as so are we. This may produce some discontent. We are always denied any sort of visual pleasure, except for watching the characters speak. So what remains to get our attention is the rather complex dialogue, both off screen and on screen. What of it?
It seems to me that the discussions all circle around a game of storytelling. As in India Song, there are first two women commenting the "action" off screen. After a while, when the women are on screen, we hear the men comment. This puts the on screen dialogue in a sort of paranoid position, it is constantly overheard by the off screen voices. The men may speak about love, the women may speak about fear but all the time they are making up little stories for themselves, and for us. It seems that they are waiting also for something terrible, a destruction of sorts, to be brought about by the young. Well then, anything to pass the time. What the stories are about may not be of much interest but the way they go about telling them is.
The two men, both "german Jews"(when is this taking place?), are literary inclined, Stein is, in his own words, "in the process of becoming a writer", and Max Thor is a professor in French, also, according to his young wife Alissa, in a similar writing process. The two starts a strange cooperation: We are told by one of the off screen voices that "Max Thor writes what Stein watches". But we do not see this. So what do we trust, our eyes or our ears? Neither I guess but this is the kind of game I find interesting. We can say "this is not really happening" or "I do not believe what I hear or what I see" but the film is still there. If we play the game we have to see it. It gets a little cruel perhaps, especially towards the older, nervous Elizabeth who is waiting for her man, but she does not seem to mind; in fact she likes it. And I like it too. I like the way the rhythm is slowly working, never cutting scenes too fast but letting the characters rather soft and hesitant voices take effect. They never shout. These may be worried people but the way they worry is rather pleasant to witness, if I may say so.
There are also for our entertainment some, if rather basic, tricks with mirrors and with cards along that way that almost elevates the play into a film of sorts: When points of view shift, the stage at least is benefited by multiple ways of seeing. But mostly it is the talking that does it. Multiple talking, perhaps, but handled with great taste. From the little I have read about the films of Duras, it is the priority of the sound that is most discussed. The way it often is out of synch with what we see. Here there is not any sounds present which we cannot locate by what we see, just the birds and sound of the men playing tennis, but the sound of the voices still does their tricks with us. I find I listen to the voices the way I often, lazy, listen to music, as a sensory experience, without thinking too much about what I hear. The contrast for example between the whispering, lush voice of Alissa, playfully courting Stein; "Stein, mon amour" and his dry, matter of fact response, I find both hilarious and heartfelt, as if they are only playing, but that the playing of it makes it real.
The play gets a little out of hand when Elizabeth's husband Bernard arrives, as he is at first clearly unable to play by the "rules"; he is an alien figure in the play. When Alissa says that they have been very interested in his wife, he first gets upset but then when he learns that the interest was purely "for literary reasons", he is completely bewildered. He claims he does not read novels anymore, because they have ceased to be "stories". He is clearly the odd man out. And when Alissa simply says "Destroy", he is completely lost. But when Stein repeats "She said 'destroy'", Bernard looks like he suddenly is accepting the play, as he mutters "Anything is possible", says he wants to stay but then takes his wife and leaves.
And? The end is dark and surprising. Not to be told, so see (hear) for yourself.
