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woman in Le Vice-Consul). Throughout this
period, Duras also established herself as ‘a
major dramatist, producing adaptations both
of her own novels, such as Whole Days in the
Trees (Des journées entières dans les arbres)
and L’Amante anglaise, and of classic works,
such as Strindberg’s The Dance of Death. The
culmination of her work in theatre was Savan-
nah Bay, a play written in 1982 for Madeleine
Renaud about the apocalyptic impact of sexual
passion and the vital necessity of bearing wit-
ness.
Duras was briefly a member of the revolu-
tionary action committee of students and writ-
ers set up at the Sorbonne during the events of
May 1968. Yet, after reaching with L’Amour
a kind of limit point, she began to devote her
energies almost exclusively to film-making.
Nathalie Granger (1972), based around a
young girl’s refusal to speak, exemplified the
attraction Duras’s marginal status had for es-
tablished stars (here Jeanne Moreau), and it
encouraged a temporary and highly ambiva-
lent association with feminism evident in her
published interviews in 1974 with Xavière
Gauthier, Woman to Woman (Les Parleuses).
La Femme du Gange and India Song (1974/
1975) rework elements from Duras’s 1960s
novels to create a dense network of
intertextual echoes commonly referred to as
the ‘India Cycle’. Both films are composed of
slow, long takes which are often repeated and
have no direct relation with the intricately lay-
ered, plurivocal soundtrack. The actors such
as Delphine Seyrig are asked simply to ‘fig-
ure’—rather than act—their rôles. Son nom
de Venise dans Calcutta désert, which uses the
same soundtrack as India Song but this time
over frozen images of an abandoned château,
revealed that Duras’s underlying ambition was
not merely to reappropriate her literary
work—which, she claimed, had been betrayed
in commercial adaptations—but also to de-
stroy the very foundations of cinema. Le
Camion (1979), centred around a dialogue
with Gérard Depardieu about a film that
‘could have been made’ of a female hitch-hiker,
marked the first occasion that Duras entered
her own work as Duras. Not only did it refuse
any essentialist notion of a female writing of
the body, but it also established a new, defi-
antly heterosexual and ultimately sadomaso-
chistic, aesthetic, or malkeur merveilleux
(magical misery). The four-part series of shorts
comprising Césarée, Les Mains négatives, and
two versions of Aurélia Steiner (about the
Holocaust), where Duras recites haunting po-
etic texts over stark, quasi-documentary im-
ages of Paris and the Seine estuary, represents
the pinnacle of her work in film. In Green Eyes
(Les Yeux verts), where she theorizes her cin-
ematic practice, Duras fully recognizes the se-
ductive power of her voice—low and grav-
elly—when delivered over a limited range of
neutral ‘master-images’. The logical conclu-
sion to her experiments in minimalism was the
short L’Homme atlantique, the second half of
which presents a black screen and her own
voice interrogating an unnamed male ‘you’.
In 1980, Duras returned to fiction proper
with The Seated Man in the Passage (L’Homme
assis dans le couloir), a slim volume which
elaborates in graphic detail the violent erotic
subtext of Le Vice-Consul and heralds the ar-
rival in her literary work of an explicit first-
person narratoi-voyeuse. L’Été 80 (Summer
1980) was Duras’s first experiment in écriture
courante (literally ‘running writing’), her an-
swer to écriture féminine and an apparent tran-
scription of anything personal, social or po-
litical that ‘passes’ during the scene of writing.
Contingent and potentially all-inclusive,
écriture courante was taken by many as proof
of Duras’s stated ethical commitment to
alterity. L’Été 80 also introduced Yann Andréa,
a gay man half her age with whom she formed
a lasting relationship and who featured in her
films and novels, often as Yann or ‘YA, homo-
sexual’ (most obviously in Yann Andréa
Steiner). A new set of thematics had begun to
emerge: homosexual/heterosexual relations,
explicit incestuous desire (explored at length
in Agatha), selfhood, collaboration and age-
ing. The sparse The Malady of Death (La
Maladie de la mort), which stages an aggres-
sive encounter between a female narrator and
another anonymous male ‘you’ (by implica-
tion, also the reader), offered a brilliant
Duras, Marguerite