Movies – The Delphine Seyrig Project – La Musica

Delphine Seyrig in “La Musica.” credit: kebekmac.blogspot.com

Marguerite Duras, while very good and comfortably successful, was a pretty conventional writer, from most reports, until her 1958 novella Moderato Cantabile, where she started making a conscious effort to strip away straight exposition and explanation, and use the remaining language to surround the actual subject rather than describe it directly. Many writers approach their writing the same way, but Duras’ personal style, subtly interwoven with autobiographical references, lends an emotional intimacy to her otherwise seemingly austere scenarios. She describes everything true around and about the situation, filtered through the characters’ psychologies, then leaves it to you to deductively arrive at her real narrative.

Television veteran Paul Seban is credited as a co-director, and the film is beautifully shot in 35mm black & white by the great Sascha Vierny (his third film with Delphine), but I think it’s safe to say that this is Marguerite Duras’ own feature-film directing debut. Based on her play, La Musica (The Music) (France, 1967), the film presents us with a well-dressed businessman-type sitting at an outdoor café in Evreux (a bit WNW of Paris), smoking, lost in thought. A cute and engaging younger woman strikes up a conversation from a nearby table. The conversational snippets of her recent adventures are a bit confusing: her father works for NATO, she’s probably from Orleans, she’s just arrived here from four days in Paris and she’s on her way to Honfleur, where she may or may not have a boyfriend. The man is polite and friendly; they’re pleasant company for each other, but he isn’t volunteering much of the conversation.

Julie Dassin in “La Musica.” credit: kebekmac.blogspot.com

(The man, literally scripted as “Lui” [though we learn his name is Michel] is veteran French leading man Robert Hossein. “La jeune fille,” bien sur, is Julie Dassin, the director Jules’ daughter, born in L.A. and having an unfortunately short acting career of less than nine years. She’s around 22-years-old here.)

Eventually Lui and La jeune fille drive out to a forest, settle in among the trees and talk earnestly. Away from the city, undisturbed, they confide in each other. We learn that he is finalizing his divorce after a few years of separation from Elle (Delphine), and has understandable mixed emotions. She’s going to Honfleur to break things off with the man she knows there, and is procrastinating.

They return to his hotel, he takes a (now nighttime) walk while she naps in his room. Awakening, she noses through his open belongings (there’s a pistol, among other things), and knocks on Elle’s hotel room door.

Later, Lui returns to the hotel, meeting La jeune fille in a downstairs sitting room. They have a short exchange, then she leaves, a bit fearful of what will become of Lui. Not too soon after, Elle appears, and another long and eventful conversation, now between these two, commences.

Robert Hossein in “La Musica.” credit: kebekmac.blogspot.com

Duras’ insistent style of circling the direct subjects of the dialogue can be a bit maddening, or a bit enervating. But there’s an undeniably detailed and affecting set of shared lives interacting here. Our three protagonists, like those in Delphine’s Alain Resnais films, are recalling memories that evoked strong emotions and led to consequential decisions, or they’re referring to them to arrive at a next step in their lives, unmade decisions that needs to be made. La jeune fille is finding her way through much of what Lui and Elle have already lived; Lui is kind to La jeune fille in their interaction, but the age and experience differences are profound. Lui’s reunion with Elle, on the other hand, feels like a fall through the rabbit hole – it’s fascinating where they still share a wavelength, and where they’ve chosen to disengage. But we’re absolutely convinced, by both of these superb actors, that there’s been a short but deep lifetime shared between them, even if we have no specific knowledge of the things they’re referring to. Divorced from past context, their shorthand with each other is still engrossing.

Alain Resnais’ Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959) is my recommended gateway into this film, and other rigorous but rewarding later Duras films like Destroy She Said, Nathalie Granger, Agatha and The Limitless Readings, and another Delphine Seyrig film we’ll explore later, the exquisite India Song. La Musica is a tough one to find. If Hiroshima doesn’t do much for you, then the others are, regrettably, best passed on.