| Title | : | Hiroshima mon amour |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 8432216941 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9788432216947 |
| Language | : | Spanish; Castilian |
| Format Type | : | Mass Market Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 160 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1959 |
Hiroshima mon amour Reviews
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A film script written by the French author. The 1959 film won many awards including the International Critics' Prize at the Cannes Film festival as well as the New York Film Critics' Award. The text is literally a script and in places the author offers the director advice on how to take the shot and even options or different outcomes of the scene at the moment. The edition I read included 70 black and white stills from the movie, some of which were horrible scenes of the carnage caused by the bomb. (I have not seen the film.)
A married French actress is in Hiroshima filming her role in a movie about the horror and devastation caused by the war and the atomic bomb dropped on the city. She falls in love with a Japanese man. Will she stay with him or return to her husband in France? We learn a lot about her life but very little of the man’s.
I think the story is best described as a series of juxtapositions. As the author says in her brief preface and synopsis, she wanted their mundane talk of love to be juxtaposed with deeper philosophical thoughts of the horrors of war.
There’s also the contrast between her recollection of the beauty of her hometown in France, a real town called Nevers, with the horror of the Hiroshima landscape.
The woman’s love of her life, before he was killed, was a German soldier in occupied France. After the war, she was punished by her village and her family by having her head shaved and being imprisoned for a time in a cellar. At times is seems that in her dreams and daydreams, she confuses the Japanese man with her former lover. The juxtaposition here is that once again, she is “sleeping with the enemy.”
And the juxtaposition of the past love, present love, and what of the future…?
A good story and a quick read. The script contains some content not used in the movie and vice-versa. I’ve read 6 or 7 of her works, all novellas, and I very much enjoy her writing.
Photo of Hiroshima from time.com
Nevers from wikipedia
The author from lithub.com -
Duras, who was rightly nominated for a Oscar (Best Screenplay), for Alain Resnais's 1959 film, has produced a Painful, haunting and unforgettable piece of writing, exploring themes she has always held close to her heart, that being love and reminiscence. A Japanese architect and a French actress form the basis of this celebrated short novel, set in Hiroshima, which, essentially is a metaphor for one's inability to forget the wounds of history, during the aftermath of the Second world war. The single couple make up the story where lovers turned friends spend considerable time pondering on previous romances and life experiences. They intertwine their memories on the past, whilst trying to come to terms with the devastation caused by the atomic bomb, and what lies ahead. Sombre in tone and minimal in it's approach, the delicate, sparse narrative is a classic example of how to write about love, striping away all the melodramatic nonsense that clogs up so many other love stories, laying itself down bare, with sorrow and tenderness.
Less of a novel, more a work of art. 5/5 -
This book has a unified text from images of Alain Resnais, with one ideal scenario behind it.
Between the shorn girl "dead" in Nevers and the young Japanese man who tirelessly repeats to her that she has "seen nothing in Hiroshima", there can only be the feverish dialogue of the bodies. Yet, at the same time, they fall on them like brilliant ash, the imaginary radiations of human pain.
I saw this film with my father in a small art house when I was very young.
That was a founding text and movie picture for me. "I saw nothing in Hiroshima", but I will never forget these two hours, petrified, alongside my father, in the darkroom ... -
on my way to watch the movie so i can cry my eyes out because if there's something to know about me, it's that if there's a chance to get emotionally destroyed, you know i will take it 😌
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Hiroshima Mon Amour, Marguerite Duras
تاریخ نخستین خوانش: بیست و نهم ماه جولای سال 1974 میلادی
عنوان: هیروشیما عشق من، فیلمنامه؛ نویسنده: مارگریت دوراس؛ مترجم: هوشنگ طاهری؛ تهران، اشرفی، 1348؛ در 151 ص، مصور؛ چاپ دیگر: تهران، نیلوفر، 1385؛ در 132 ص؛ شابک: 9644482832؛ موضوع: نمایشنامه های نویسندگان فرانسوی - قرن 20 م
ا. شربیانی -
I started reading three hours ago and sat reading as it got dark around me and didn't answer the phone or even turn the lights on until I couldn't see the page. What riveted me--aside from the story itself-- was the utter starkness of the language. Not "minimal" at all, no, it's rich and musical, but what's there on the page is only what is absolutely necessary. Every word. The rhythm of the language is so startling, the rhythm of the repetitions in the conversations, the give and take, the way "elle" and "lui" echo and augment one another throughout. It's all the more startling at the end when a sudden English conversation, ugly, out of rhythm, inserts itself into the script, interrupts their reverie, upsets their total one-ness of understanding with one another and threatens to destroy it in one of the most uncomfortable scenes I've ever read.
I can think of things not to like about this screenplay. For example I'm not sure about the total focus on "elle" and her individual suffering during the war, vs. the sufferings of "lui" during the war, which are barely mentioned anywhere...but "lui's" suffering of course is apparent all around them: His name is Hiroshima.
I'm so grateful I was able read this in the original language. Tonight I'm grateful I can read at all. -
Read the book, watch the movie. This is a heart-crushing story during WWII told from a female perspective behind the lines. Riveting.
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Este livro nasce de um guião cinematográfico. Alain Resnais filmou em 1959 e provocou uma reação apaixonada da crítica.
O livro corresponde - efectivamente - em termos formais ao guião cinematográfico com anexos enriquecedores da nossa leitura e percepção da história.
Tal como grande parte da obra de Marguerite Duras este é um livro sobre sofrimento, sobre dor, sobre humanidade. É um livro profundamente reflexivo, neste caso, parte da experiência do território de Hiroshima e da melancolia do local.
Duras problematiza nos contínuos diálogos entre os dois personagens (uma mulher francesa e um homem japonês) o sentido - ou dessentido e desatino - dessa guerra mundial, sempre presente. Bem como o sentido da memória dessa guerra e a possibilidade ou a impossibilidade de compreender o que é o sofrimento daqueles que viveram a guerra.
Pode aquele mulher francesa em visita a Hiroshima compreender realmente o que se passou naquele cidade nipónica?
Será que a dor e a violência do que ali se passou é visível a quem visita a cidade?
Mas essa mesmo mulher francesa resolve falar de um outro território, a cidade de Nevers, produzindo a partir da sua experiência de sofrimento um outro retrato da violência e da dor que a guerra provoca.
Sendo um dos meus livros preferidos de Duras "Hiroshima, Meu Amor" é um pequeno tesouro cheio de testemunhos de dor, de trauma, de memória que me encantou mais uma vez revisitar. -
I found this book at the thrift store last summer and had never heard of it before. I read it in one afternoon lying outside and have never fallen so in love with a manuscript. Watching the movie and seeing the story played out with so much emotion and sadness only made the book even more special to me.
“Hiroshima mon amour” is my absolute favourite movie and also one of my favourite books. The dialogue is incredibly beautiful, so lyrical and full of sorrow.
A poetic, sad, beautiful, nostalgic, tragic and dreamy story full of terrible events - and with love along with its suffering, memory and the passage of time in the midst of it all. Ah there are so many things I love so deeply about both the movie and the screenplay, I cant express how much I love this story
“I meet you. I remember you. Who are you? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. How could I know this city was tailor-made for love? How could I know you fit my body like a glove? I like you. How unlikely. I like you. How slow all of a sudden. How sweet. You cannot know. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. I have time. Please, devour me. Deform me to the point of ugliness. Why not you? Why not you in this city and in this night, so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference? I beg of you.” -
Hiç bu kadar güzel yazılmış bir senaryo okumamıştım. Hem filmi daha iyi anlamama hem de enfes bir edebiyat şöleni yaşamama imkan sağladı.
Çok çok etkileyici, edebiyata, sinemaya başka bir açıdan bakmamızı sağlayan ve sanata hayran bırakan bir metin.
Hiroşima cehenneminin, bir aşk hikayesinin arka planını oluşturuyormuş gibi anlatılırken, bu kadar etkili verilebilmesi büyük başarı.
Karşıtlıklar ve benzerlikler, çoğu zaman farkına varmadan yaşadığımız gerçekliklerdir. Durup yaşananları düşünmek; farkındalığımızı arttırma ve bizi farklı bir insana dönüştürme potansiyelini içerir.
Çok beğendim.
“… Neden yadsımalı apaçık gerçekliğini belleğin?…”, sf; 32. -
After watching and utterly falling for Alain Resnais's and Marguerite Duras's 1959 film
Hiroshima mon amour back in March, I was so enamored of the language—sparse, yet compelling enough that I recited phrases from the film to myself for weeks after watching it—that I had to search out Duras's original screenplay and spend some time absorbing the words at a slower-than-speech pace. Doing so only increased my admiration for Duras's work here, while at the same time helping me realize how much the visual and audio elements of the film augment and alter the words spoken. Having read with interest Amateur Reader's
recent post on watching and reading plays, it was an intriguing exercise to go back and read a screenplay of a film I've already watched and savored.
In particular, Elle's hypnotic near-monologue from the opening of the film makes a different impression when stripped of the haunting score by Georges Delerue and Giovanni Fusco, and of the shocking and heartbreaking newsreel footage of war devastation (and its counterpoint, near-abstract images of lovers' bodies). Emmanuelle Riva's cadenced delivery of these lines emphasizes the way in which Duras's prose veers, under pressure, into poetic verse and back out again. The score, in turn, underlines that growing pressure underlying Elle's narration, as she tries to convince her Japanese lover that she has seen Hiroshima, that she has witnessed and at some level understands the devastation of the war. Take the following passage, from close to the beginning of the film (all marks and emphasis mine):
Quatre fois au musée à Hiroshima.
J'ai regardé les gens. J'ai regardé moi-même pensivement, le fer. Le fer brûlé. Le fer brisé, le fer devenu vulnérable comme la chair. J'ai vu des capsules en bouquet: qui y aurait pensé? Des peaux humaines flottantes, survivantes, encore dans la fraîcheur de leurs souffrances. Des pierres. Des pierres brûlées. Des pierres éclatées. Des chevelures anonymes que les femmes de Hiroshima retrouvaient tout entières tombées le matin, au réveil.
J'ai eu chaud place de la Paix. Dix mille degrés sur la place de la Paix. Je le sais. La température du soleil sur la place de la Paix. Comment l'ignorer?
The meaning in English is more or less:
Four times at the museum in Hiroshima.
I watched the people. I myself watched, pensively, the metal. Metal burnt. Metal broken, metal become vulnerable like flesh. I saw the bouquet of bottle caps: who would have thought? The preserved human skins, floating, surviving, their suffering still fresh. The stones. Burnt stone. Shattered stone. The anonymous hair that the women of Hiroshima found, fallen out, on waking in the morning.
I was hot in Peace Square. Ten thousand degrees in Peace Square. I know it. The temperature of the sun in Peace Square - how could you not know it?
However, many of the rhymes and echoes (in particular the "eɪ" sound common among the bolded syllables above) don't translate into English. Try to read it in French even if you don't understand the words, and notice how the rhyming or echoing words are grouped together, often in the shorter sentences. The rhyming/echoing "eɪ" sounds are generally on the accented syllable, and often directly precede a comma or period, which strengthens the stress on those beats. They are repetitive yet syncopated, building on each other to create a rhythmic tension which is alleviated by the counterpoint of the longer sentences, which descend back into a more prose-like rhythm (although the underlined syllables create another, minor rhythmic line). The overall effect is insistent, incantatory. Elle is building a story, a representation that is meant to convince her lover of what she "knows," what we all "know": the devastation and cruelty of the atomic bomb at Hiroshima. But representations of something felt in the body tend to be problematic in Duras. The insistent yet fragile structure created by Elle's voice is cut short by Lui's stark refusal: "Tu n'as rien vu à Hiroshima, rien." (You saw nothing at Hiroshima, nothing.")
Although Duras communicates much of this rhythmic play via punctuation, the text alone simply does not have the power of the full filmic package.
1 The score underlines everything I've been talking about with regard to the building rhythmic anxiety: frenetic piano, flute, and string parts underline brilliantly the tension during her speeches about the museum, while his refusals are marked by silence, or the single, elegant line of (I'm guessing?) a clarinet. Just to illustrate the exact points Duras is making, my analysis comes nowhere close to the experience of actually watching all elements come together, which you can do
here.
The cuts back from the bomb footage to the lovers' bodies provide another method of contrasting the physical immediacy of Elle's current situation with the theoretical nature of her "knowledge" about the bomb. And the questions of reality versus representation are brought to yet another level by the fact that this is itself a piece of art, being viewed by an audience, yet it incorporates the same real newsreel footage that Elle keeps referencing. As the viewer, I feel I am coming face to face with the "reality" of the war, just as Elle feels she was brought face to face with it by going four times to the museum. My reaction was the same as hers: I wept. The impact of these images does not feel negligible, does not feel like something that can be so cleanly dismissed. And yet of course, my feeling is just as illusory as Elle's: our weeping does not indicate any privileged knowledge of Hiroshima under attack. That kind of knowledge is kept locked in the bodies of those who were there, and any attempt to communicate it in language (as Elle does with her own trauma later on) will lead only to forgetfulness, not to shared understanding.
Notes on Disgust
I've decided to jot down a few notes for each of my posts about how the book in question might make use of disgust, even if said book is not directly related to my
Disgust Project. This is primarily so I can get a better idea what the most common uses of disgust might be.
Hiroshima mon amour is remarkable for how little disgust it elicits, considering its subject matter. The opening 15-minute montage, in particular, shows very graphic images of disfigurement following the atomic blast, yet (at least personally) I wouldn't say disgust is my primary emotion on viewing these images. I think this is because the disgust impulse has either been superseded by grief and pity, or has reached a tipping point of extremity into horror. (Since I'm American, there may also be a certain amount of cultural guilt around the knowledge that "we" were the ones responsible for the atrocities pictured. Despite the fact that the bomb project was not exactly a democratic decision and happened in any case long before I was born, and despite my strong dislike of nationalism, witnessing photographic evidence of the devastation wrought by one's own country is for some reason more upsetting than witnessing similar devastation wrought by others. As such, most of the disgust I feel when viewing these images is directed inward, if not toward "me" at least toward "us," rather than outward toward "them.")
Speaking from the small amount of reading I've done thus far, and from my common sense, disgust is a largely dehumanizing emotion, used to police boundaries between the "safe" and the "contaminating" (us and them, clean and dirty, etc.). The degree to which Hiroshima mon amour succeeds in breaking down those us vs. them boundaries can be measured by its communication of horror and grief (however limited or suspect they may be) rather than disgust, to the viewer, despite the inclusion of images which could easily disgust. Bottom line: Transformation of disgust into grief via sympathy.*******
1Which is not to say that I disagree with Amateur Reader's overall point: I enjoy reading plays and agree that we can stage them effectively in our imaginations. But the combined imaginative power of Marguerite Duras and Alain Resnais far outstrips my own.
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"Hiroshima mon amour" é daquelas obras que ultrapassam qualquer classificação, arrebatou-me por completo.
1957. Um casal de amantes acorda num quarto de hotel em Hiroshima. De início, são apenas os seus ombros que se mostram. Mal se conhecem. E, no entanto a entrega de um ao outro é plena, fulminante, corpo e alma.
Ela é francesa, atriz, feliz em seu casamento, dois filhos, vive em Paris. Ele é japonês, arquiteto, feliz em seu casamento, dois filhos, vive em Hiroshima. Suas respectivas nacionalidades nada dizem sobre a história que nos é mostrada. O que nos importa são o que viveram em seus respectivos países.
Ela lhe diz que viu tudo em Hiroshima. Ele lhe diz que ela nada viu em Hiroshima.
Nas horas que antecedem o voo dela de volta à França, o casal se encontra e reencontra em Hiroshima, tentam viver a impossibilidade desse amor, sabem que muito provavelmente não terão outra oportunidade.
Ele - Daqui a um tanto de anos, quando tiveres esquecido e quando outras histórias como esta, pela força do costume, voltarem a acontecer, recordarei-me de ti como o olvidar do próprio amor. Pensarei em tudo isso como o horror do esquecimento. Eu o sei desde este momento.
Riva - (...) Virá um tempo em que já não saberemos dar um nome ao que nos une. Seu nome se irá apagando aos poucos de nossa memória.
Descobrimos aos poucos o que se passou na vida d'Ela, em Nevers, na França. Embora não seja nominada, por vezes é chamada de Riva, como a atriz que a representa nas telas do cinema. Apaixonou-se pelo inimigo, um rapaz alemão de 23 anos quando ela mesma tinha 20 anos. No dia antes da partida dele de volta à Alemanha, quando os nazistas começam a cair como peças de dominó no jogo da II guerra mundial, é morto por um atirador escondido nos jardins do cais do Loire. Ela só tem tempo de se jogar a ele, que cheio de vontade de envolvê-la, protegê-la, nada pode fazer, não tem forças, o seu corpo parte aos poucos. Ela se agarra a seu corpo, passa um dia e uma noite junto a ele, já morto. Quando são encontrados, jogam o corpo dele num caminhão. Ela é levada a um galpão onde tem os cabelos completamente raspados, como para lhe colocar a marca da desonra, por ter dormido com o inimigo. Seus pais a escondem no porão, de onde apenas vê pés e pernas. É onde começa um processo de loucura, quando grita, sem que se produza som, quando faz coisas as quais não recorda. Mas ela retorna dessa loucura, assim como o seu cabelo, é quando sua mãe lhe dá dinheiro e diz para ir embora, pois ali não poderia mais viver.
Ele estava na guerra quando a bomba foi lançada sobre Hiroshima. E, no entanto, a bomba está presente, embora invisível, por todos os lados, seus efeitos se mostram nos corpos, nos destroços que deixou. Na alma do mundo. A Hiroshima na qual se encontram não é a mesma Hiroshima. Como ela poderia ter visto tudo em Hiroshima, quando nada mais em Hiroshima existia?
Ela – (...) Da mesma maneira que existe uma ilusão no amor, esta ilusão de ser capaz de nunca esquecer, também eu tive a ilusão perante Hiroshima de que jamais me esqueceria. Assim como no amor.
Poderia dizer que o encontro do casal de amantes fortuitos é como uma catarse, uma expressão de um amor tão intensamente vivido no passado e que só pode ser novamente sentido dessa forma fulminante, sabendo os dois que a intensidade desse amor vive no fato de ser efêmero. Ela na capacidade de mostrar que lhe foi possível sobreviver a tudo o que lhe passou. E que a vida é apenas um seguir em frente. Ele na capacidade de mostrar que lhe foi possível sobreviver à destruição de Hiroshima, de tudo que isso representa. A vida também lhe é seguir em frente. Apesar da sensação de apenas passar pela vida.
A marca dessas vivências fulminantes, nas quais conseguimos ser plenos, embora raras, são necessárias, no entanto. São como um força que nos mantém verdadeiramente vivos.
Por isso também são mais do que dois seres com suas respectivas nacionalidades, são seres que tentam resgatar uma possibilidade para se recordarem que vivem, que pulsam. Esses momentos são raros na vida humana.
Ela – Hi-ro-shi-ma. Esse é o teu nome.
Olham-se sem se verem. Para sempre.
(...)
Ele – Esse é meu nome. Sim.
(...) Teu nome é Nevers. Ne-vers-de-Fran-ça.
Hiroshima mon amour é o roteiro que Marguerite Duras escreveu e foi filmado por Alain Resnais, estreado pela fantástica Emmanuelle Riva e por Eiji Okada.
Quem conhece um pouco da nem sempre fácil escrita de Duras reconhece aqui a sua genialidade. Não é fácil falar de questões humanas, como aquelas aqui tratadas, em linhas tão curtas e assim mesmo tão fortes, pungentes, que se ligam de forma tão poética no decorrer do texto, criando uma história de resgate de dois personagens, na capacidade de amar apesar de tudo, apesar da crueldade humana, da fugacidade dos momentos, do esquecimento. Do esquecimento do próprio amor.
Em tempo, é interessante observar a homenagem que o cineasta mexicano Julián Hernández faz aos textos de Duras, sendo que me foi possível vislumbrar aqui e ali no roteiro de Hiroshima mon amour os seus efeitos em El cielo dividido (2008), que também fala da capacidade viver a experiência do amor novamente, de sua fugacidade, mas também do esquecimento do próprio amor (el olvido del amor mismo) como o amor que Gerardo viveu por Jonas:
Gerardo y Jonás se encuentran porque se han buscado. En una primera mirada se descubren cómplices añejos; de ahí una cita, otra, el hotel, la universidad, la intimidad, los besos, la piel, el reencuentro sobre todo, la fusión, la cama, la regadera, los bares; la sensación de permanecer contra la distancia, contra el tiempo los va fusionando como en un rito perenne obligado a repetirse, para mantener la continuidad de los acontecimientos vitales.
(...)
Mucho tiempo después, Jonas lo llamo, “soy yo” le dijo. Gerardo lo reconoció. Jonas dijo, “solo quería oír tu voz, yo”.
Guardaron silencio. Jonas dice que todos los días sin falta, en algún momento, sin que lo propusiera, su imagen volvía a su memoria. Su voz temblaba.
Gerardo avocó aquella voz y sintió pena. Despues ya non supieron lo que decirse y despues Jonas se lo dijo, le dijo que se arrepentía, que aún lo amaba, que nunca podría dejar de amarlo, que lo amaría hasta la muerte.
Jonas escucho entonces el llanto de Gerado al teléfono. Lloro también.
Gerardo se tumbó en la cama, Siguió llorando, recordándose de él como el olvido del amor mismo, como el horror del olvido. -
"Aklını böyle yitirmenin ne olduğunu bilmeyenler atsın bana ilk taşı. Aşktan başka yurdum yoktu artık benim."
Ne metin ama ya, ne metin. Canım Marguerite Duras'nın çok seveceğimden emin olduğum için hazzı biraz daha erteleyeyim diye bekletip durduğum kitabı Hiroşima Sevgilim'i okudum sonunda. Çok seneler önce izlediğim filmini de bunun üzerine tez zamanda yeniden izlemek istiyorum.
Normalde senaryo yahut oyun okumayı çok sevmem ama bu resmen şiir gibi yazılmış bir metin. Diyaloglar, onların arasında Duras'nın aldığı notlar, hepsi öyle lezzetli ki. Senaryonun ardına ilave edilmiş "ekler" kısmı da bir o kadar iyi.
İkinci Dünya Savaşı bitiminde Fransa'da, Nevers'te bir Alman askeri olan ilk aşkının ölümüne tanıklık etmiş olan bir kadın (adam��n tabiriyle: "bir kadında bin kadınsın sanki...) ile Hiroşima'yı yaşamış bir Japon adamın birkaç günlük aşk hikayesini okuyoruz. Kadın aktris, Hiroşima'da geçen barışa dair bir filmde (ki soruyor yazar - Hiroşima'da barış filminden başka ne çekilebilir ki, diye) rol almak üzere kente gelmiş. İşte orada tanışıyor adamla ve daha önce hiç anlatmadığı bu hikayeyi anlatıyor. İkisi de evli, aşkları süremez ancak bu, tutkuyla sevişmelerine engel değil.
"Yılgının izlerini yılgıyla silmek" diyor yazar bir yerde - bu kitap tam da bunun hikâyesi. Herkesin belleğindeki kendi Hiroşima'ları, delirmeye en yaklaştığımız o anlar, unutmanın ne olduğunu öğrenmek, aşktan ölünmediğini bilmek, toplumsal bellekten bireysel belleğe akıttıklarımız... Küçücük bir metin ancak bu kadar kudretli olabilir. Duras'nın kısa, kesik cümleleri her zamanki gibi insanın içine içine işliyor.
Valla ne diyeyim ya. Böyle yazmak, yazabilmek... Hayranlıktan kelimelerim tükendi.
"Öldürüyorsun beni - öyle iyi geliyorsun ki bana." ❤️🩹 -
Şiirsel bir aşk öyküsü. Tek gecelik. Sadece savaşın ve acının konuşulduğu bir aşk öyküsü. Hiroşima'da "barış" filminde -ki Hiroşima'da barış filminden başka ne çekilebilir?- rol alan Fransız bir kadınla, Japon bir mimarın neden olduğu ve neden olması gerektiği bilinmeyen enfes hikayesi.
"Tıpkı onun gibi, senin de gözlerinden başlayacak unutulmak...
Tıpkı.
Sonra, tıpkı onun gibi, unutulmak sesini kaplayacak.
Tıpkı.
Sonra, tıpkı onun gibi, her yanını kuşatacak yavaş yavaş..
Bir türkü olacaksın."
"- Dinle beni. Ben de senin kadar biliyorum unutmanın ne olduğunu.
- Hayır unutmanın ne olduğunu bilmiyorsun sen.
- Benim de bir belleğim var, senin gibi. Biliyorum unutmanın ne olduğunu.
- Hayır, belleğin yok senin.
- Senin gibi ben de var gücümle çırpındım unutmamak için. Senin gibi, unuttum. Senin gibi ben de avunmak bilmez bir belleğim olsun istedim, gölgelerden, taşlardan bir belleğim.
- Kendi adıma her gün savaştım var gücümle, anıların nedenlerini anlayamamanın korkunçluğunu karşı. Senin gibi, unuttum ben de." -
الواقع أنهما ليسا بعد أحدً في نظر بعضهما ، ان لهما اسمي مكانين .، اسمين ليسا منهما ، كما لو أن كارثة امرأة مجزورة الشعر في نوفير وكارثة هيروشيما تتجاوبان تماماً ..
وستقول له : هيروشيما ذلك هو اسمك .. "
هي قصة الفيلم الذي تم انتاجه عام 1959 و الذي يحمل نفس الاسم و يعد من اهم اعمال السينما الفرنسية .. يتحدث عن الحب والحرب والارتباط الوثيق الذي قد ينشا داخل كل من أصيب بهما في نفس الوقت .. البطلة فرنسية الجنسية سافرت الى هيروشيما من اجل العمل في فيلم يتحدث عن السلام فتلتقى بمهندس معماري ياباني قبل عودتها الى فرنسا وتنشأ بينهم قصة حب لمدة يوم وعلى انقاض تجاربهم القديمة .. ولان التصنع قد يكون مقبول في اي مكان إلا في هيروشيما فقد قاما بتبادل ذكرياتهم طوال ذلك اليوم واستعرضا ما عانوا منه سواء في هيروشيما او نوفير بلدة البطلة من ويلات حروب وفقد للاحباء ..
ليست رواية بشكلها الكامل التقليدي .. والحقيقة لست ادري هل تم عرض الفيلم اولا ثم نقله بعد ذلك وكتابته على الورق ام ان الرواية كتبت اولا ثم تم عملها كفيلم سينمائي ، انا شاهدت الفيلم اولا وعندما قرأت الرواية بعد ذلك كانت بالنسبة لي مجرد نقل لاحداث الفيلم ومشاهده على الورق حتى ان الحوار اغلبه تم استخدام فيه ضمير الغائب .. اراها جيدة لو شاهدت الفيلم ونال اعجابك خصوصا انها توضح بعض الافكار التى قد تكون مبهمة بعض الشيء في الفيلم و تتناول ايضاً تحليل للكاتبة لبعض المشاهد التى جاءت بالفيلم -
3,5 las últimas páginas, donde aparecen los detalles de Nevers, son muy bonitas.
Nota mental: ver la película. -
هیروشیما عشق من، نخستین فیلم بلند آلن رنه، قدمهای بزرگی برای آغاز سینمایی تازه در فرانسه برمیدارد. آنگونه که اریک رومر که در آن زمان منتقد مجله کایه دو سینما بود، میگوید این اثر اولین فیلم مدرن سینمای ناطق است. فیلم با دو تم اساسی سر و کار دارد که دغدغه اصلی رنه و مارگریت دوراس، نویسنده مطرح جنبش رمان نو که فیلمنامه را نوشته، در بخش بزرگی از آثارشان است: خاطره و فراموشی.
در آغاز تصویر دو عاشق در آغوش یکدیگر را میبینیم که لایهای از خاکستر بدنشان را پوشانده. این تصویر یادآور باران خاکستر در شهری است که بمب اتم در آن سقوط کرده، و در عین حال یادآور عشق که آتشی است سوزاننده. خاطره و فراموشی هر دو در این تصاویر ابتدایی حاضر اند. تصاویر از مرگ و فاجعه به سمت زندگی و عشق میروند. بدن سنگی و مجسمهمانند به پوستی پوشیده از اکلیل و سپس خیسی عرق تغییر میکند. با همین تصاویر آغازین فیلم دو تم اصلی خود (خاطره و فراموشی) را مشخص میکند که در تصویر سنگ و آب نمایان است. سنگ یا جسم جامدْ سخت و مقاوم است، همچون خاطره باقی میماند. و آب همچنان که میگذرد سنگ را میفرساید و حل میکند. آنگونه که هراکلیتوس میگوید :«نمیتوان دو بار در یک رودخانه شنا کرد»، آب میگذرد، تغییر میکند و خاطره را به دست فراموشی میسپارد.
متن کامل در صفحه اینستاگرام مجله نوستالژیا:
https://www.instagram.com/p/CyL4dFEod... -
Herkes yaşamının bir noktasında geri dönüşü olmayacak şekilde aklını kaçırıyor bu hayatta. Bu delirme, gençlikte ancak bir felaket, savaş, tutsaklık, işkence gibi ani, beklenmedik yıkımlarla olabilirken; yaşlandıkça daha ziyade, yıllarca emek verilen bir işin çöküşü, yıllarını birlikte geçirdiğin insanın ölümü, çok güvendiğin birinin ihaneti gibi verilen emeklerin boşa çıkması ve başka bir şeye o kadar emek vermek için önünde yeterince zaman kalmadığını fark etmekle oluyor. Seni delirten olayların acısı geçse, unutulsa ve sonunda herhangi birine anlatılabilecek kadar mahremiyetini yitirse bile sonuçları silinmiyor, aklını kaçıran insanlar tekrar iflah olmuyor.
Biri Hiroşima’da diğeri Nervers’de, daha yirmili yaşlardayken akllarını kaçırmış orta yaşlı, evli bir adam ve bir kadın Hiroşima’da karşılaşırlar.
Kadın: “Hi-ro-şi-ma, senin adın bu”
Erkek: “Seninki de, Nevers”
-
”Nu a trişat în jocul cu viaţa. Nu a fost nevoit s-o facă: e un om pe care existenţa sa l-a interesat întotdeauna, şi încă suficient de mult, mereu, pentru ca el să nu „tîrască“ după sine o boală a adolescenţei care face, atît de des, din bărbaţii de patruzeci de ani nişte falşi tineri aflaţi încă în căutarea a ceea ce ar putea face cu adevărat, pentru a părea siguri de ei înşişi. Nu se poartă cu cochetărie, dar nu e nici neîngrijit. N-a făcut niciodată o carieră de „bărbat care place femeilor“. Crede că acest gen de carieră e una de „substituţie“ demnă de dispreţ şi, pe deasupra, suspectă. Crede că acela care n-a cunoscut niciodată dragostea unei singure femei a trecut pe lângă dragoste şi chiar pe lângâ virilitate.
În dragoste, desigur, toate femeile au ochi frumoşi. Dar pe aceasta, dragostea o aruncă într-o dezordine sufletească ceva mai departe decât pe celelalte femei. Pentru că ea este mai mult decît celelalte femei „îndrăgostită de dragostea însăşi“...
A te dărui trup şi suflet, asta contează.” -
4,5*
“Ele. – Dentro de alguns anos, quando te tiver esquecido e outras histórias como esta acontecerem ainda pela força do hábito, lembrar-me-ei de ti como a essência do esquecimento do amor. Pensarei nesta história como no horror do esquecimento. Sei que hei-de pensar assim.”
Na minha memória, o filme homónimo de Alan Resnais fundia-se e confundia-se com a primeira leitura deste livro, constituído pelo guião da longa-metragem e por alguns apêndices que ajudam a compreender a história e as personagens. No plano universal, são pungentes todas as imagens criadas sobre Hiroxima neste livro, mas sempre me tocou mais o drama individual de Riva, a jovem francesa a quem raparam o cabelo e fecharam numa cave, após o final da Segunda Guerra Mundial, por se ter envolvido com um soldado alemão. Com frases concisas e magnéticas, Duras continua a impressionar-me. -
"Like you, I wanted to have an inconsolable memory, a memory of shadows and stone."
"I'll think of this adventure as the horror of oblivion. I already know it."
This is the screenplay of one of the finest films ever made. It is a delicate, poignant, slight and tender thing, but it probes the mysteries of love, forgetfulness, memory, time and oblivion in a way that few films have, within the framework of a nimble narrative that understands how the human brain processes and thinks about time -- past, present and future simultaneously. Duras showed that same kind of mastery in The Lover, and even though I loved that book more than this screenplay, I am rating this higher. In these scant few pages, in a wispy few lines, Duras says more profound things than more allegedly "important" thousand-page tomes can muster.
It's probably not a surprise, then, that I come to this screenplay with a tremendous bias. Hiroshima mon amour (1959) is my favorite film of the French nouvelle vague. To me, it is as important a milestone in film narrative as Citizen Kane. Although, its place in the New Wave movement has been debated -- since Resnais' work has a certain aloof poetry and timelessness and romanticism that defies the rawer efforts of his peers and sets it apart -- the movie nonetheless did represent something new, and happened to be made just as Truffaut, Godard, Varda and others were demolishing the French cinema's "Tradition of Quality."
One of the truly beautiful things about Hiroshima mon amour -- the film -- is its collaborative nature. Of course, all films are collaborative, and perfect writer/director pairings are not unheard of in the movies (Riskin and Capra, Diamond and Wilder, etc.). But what is special about the creation of this innovative and deeply felt French film is the generosity, complete respect and lack of egocentricity between screenwriter Marguerite Duras and director Alain Resnais, both masters in their respective fields. The "masters" aspect is important to stress here, because when two artists at their mutual peaks meet there often can be a turf wars over artistic ownership. Duras was aware that the screenplay she presented to Resnais was amorphous enough for him to bring his own vision to her words; it was something she intended and invited. In fact, there are passages in this screenplay where she provides alternate dialogue and situations for the director to choose, trusting his judgment. Resnais, in turn, trusted hers. In one instance, given three choices by Duras, Resnais did not choose one, but used all three. This was the level of artistic bonding and understanding at work. The startling and poignant results on the screen speak for themselves. Duras, in her preface to this edition of the screenplay, characterizes the interplay between herself and the filmmakers as "precious," so much so that she regretted, in hindsight, that the minutes of their creative meetings had not been scribed for posterity.
What is Hiroshima mon amour about? On the surface, it is a love story, a brief encounter between two strangers, neither of whom have names, or, if they do, are not sharing them with each other or us. As in Last Tango in Paris names are not important. Each has survived the war, each is lucky, though each realizes the advantages of dying. She is a French actress playing the role of nurse in an on-location film-shoot in Hiroshima. The subject of her film is the horror of the Hiroshima bombing and the necessity of peace. It is a UNICEF-type film, we are made to gather, a pedantic and earnest movie, not fictional but neither a pure documentary. He is an engineer or an architect, a professional man, an ex-soldier who made it through the Pacific war. His wife is away for a few days. How they meet is not important, Duras tells us only that they have, and that they have made love.
They have bonded, but what will make their meeting more than a temporary coupling? They only have 16 hours left before they part. Her film shoot is over; she is leaving the country, he must return to work, and his wife will return. What can he know, how can he know her, in such a short time? He hones in on one episode: her first love in Nevers, France. A love that has haunted her. A love she has not spoken of with anyone. She had met a German soldier, an occupier, and taken the forbidden step of making love with the enemy. The community learned of it, and she was shunned. They cut off all her hair. Humiliated, she was imprisoned in a cellar. She felt suicidal and wanted to die. With time, she copes, but her taboo lover never dies in her soul. He remains.
And now, 15 years later, the French actress and the Japanese engineer have met. A war has brought them together, or at least its aftermath. Before they part, they ironically note it might take a war to bring them back together again. Having made love, the man tells her that the vibrant city of Hiroshima, the one risen from the ashes, contrasted against the photos of past horror tells the French woman nothing about Hiroshima. She seems indignant at this; of course she has seen. He says, no, she hasn't. What can anyone know, who has not experienced?
Thus comes the confession he extracts from her; the record of her own pain in the war. In extracting it, he has assumed the identity of her former lover, her taboo love of youth; she, in the dreaminess of the moment, accepts that surrogacy, and tells all. The surrogacy is easy, in part, because the Japanese man, like her German soldier, is "the other," a taboo. They are not supposed to be together. He is Japanese, and married. They are both married; happily, so they say. Having confessed, she feels relieved, freed of a weight, but she also feels regret, a sense of betraying her dead lover of long ago. She wants to live that love again, but it is impossible. Their time is short, and it is passing. It already has passed. Their parting is inevitable. As inevitable as death. Ultimately, they come to know each other as place names, Nevers and Hiroshima; they become microcosms of the human condition, they represent all lovers in all times and places.
The ever-pressing cruelty of time awakens inner fears and panic. The man wants his lover to give of herself, not just of her body. But can he really understand, in so short a time? Of all the thousands of things to choose from in which to try to know someone, what can he pinpoint? He astutely focuses in on her love in Nevers. He knows that this is the essence of her pain, her outlook, her being, and its also a point of mutual understanding, an intersection that cements their physical act; because in that memory he sees his own memories, his own survival in crisis. It is the knowledge that makes their sexual bond meaningful.
As she tells her story, we realize we are eavesdropping on two people painfully aware of the mercilessness of time. These are two people reflecting on a past when they could not have known that they would ever meet each other. Two people whose demons will always render part of them mute. Like all people.
In the telling of the story, time shifts between past and present, in a nonlinear way, but not confusingly. The narrative allows for overlapping images, shifts in time and imagery. There is nothing confounding in the way the film shuffles time. It is very deft.
We never learn anything about the man's past, but, by extension, we know all. Her episode reflects his. The best that each can do, in this circumstance, is extend time, to stretch it. And the effort is pathetic, and they know it. They also know that to continue to see each other would be banal, would render what they've had with each other trite. In any case, forgetfulness and oblivion are inevitable. They realize this.
My reading of Hiroshima mon amour will differ from others' views. There are more things that can be said. This screenplay is a sweet thing to contemplate. In addition, the back pages include very interesting notes by Duras about the backstories of her characters, things not fully elaborated on in the film.
(KevinR@Ky 2016) -
4,5.
J’ai beaucoup aimé lire le scénario d’Hiroshima mon amour, et nul doute pour moi que cela aura aussi accru mon appréciation du film. Les personnages sont à la fois très simples (terme que j’emploie ici d’une manière méliorative) à saisir, mais extrêmement complexes, surtout la Française, dont l’histoire tragique et la peur de l’oubli constituent le noyau du film. L’écriture y est travaillée et les appendices sont des ajouts fort appréciés pour mieux comprendre la vision artistique initiale de Duras et les psychés des personnages. -
Two expressions popped up in my mind as I read the screenplay.
“萍水相逢” and “ 邂逅”.
Both expressions/ words are so frequently used in the Chinese language that, I am afraid, much of the romance and drama contained in them have been lost when they are casually uttered.
“萍水相逢” , to translate literally, means the the encounter of ( two) drifting duckweeds; while 邂逅 can be translated as “ chance encounter “, there is a touch of romance as well as a sense of excitement brought out by the boundless possibilities of this encounter hinted by this word that cannot be fully conveyed by its translation of “ chance encounter “.
Although, “ chance encounter “ itself , to me, is already an expression full of drama.
“Chance meetings occur everywhere in the world. What is important is what these ordinary meetings lead to.”(p.8)
This is a story of a chance encounter.
Two rootless duckweeds, nameless, ravaged by war and destruction, collide into one another. Blinding sparkles and scorching flames ensue.
But this is so much more than a story of a mere chance encounter.
It’s also a story of the complex nature of love, of memory and forgetting, and of the horror of war examined through love.
Our unnamed protagonist, a French woman, goes to Hiroshima for a movie on peace that she plays a role in.
Shortly before she is supposed to leave, she meets a Japanese architect and they have a both physically and emotionally intense affair.
Through their conversations, the traumatic events that happened to the French woman during the war are revealed.
All my friends in real life know that I don’t believe in love at first sight. I have been a believer of the testament of time.
However, this book/movie makes me think maybe profound connections can in fact be established from a short but intense encounter.
Maybe after much suffering and trauma, one carries around with oneself an aura, something like glints from shattered glasses, that attracts the ones who recognize and understand.
The Japanese architect’s family was in Hiroshima when the bomb dropped, the French woman lost her first love right before the end of the war in Nevers. They see each other, and recognize each other.
“He:
Have you ever noticed that it’s always in the same sense that people notice things?”
She：
No.I noticed you, that’s all.”(p.33)
Or maybe, a location, such as Hiroshima, one that’s once completely annihilated, is conducive to such love affairs. A place where death has been preserved. It reminds one of the end of the world, where a kind of desperate yet powerful passion can sprout, much like the “ the new vegetation rising from the sands” with vitality that’d never been seen before during the nuclear fallout in Hiroshima.
“How could I have known that the city was made to the size of love?”
How could I have known that you were made to the size of my body?” (p.25)
“their embrace-so banal, so commonplace-takes place in the one city of the world where it is hardest to imagine it: Hiroshima.
Nothing is "given" at Hiroshima. Every gesture, every word, takes on an aura of meaning that transcends its literal meaning.”
But to ponder on the nature of a passionate love affair is only to scratch the surface of this screenplay / movie.
Through their dialogues, you get a sense that the French woman is torn between the desire to remember and the desire to etch the memories in her soul. She is simultaneously fighting both desires.
“You see, Nevers is the city in the world, and even the thing in the world, I dream about most often at night. And at the same time it’s the thing I think about the least.” (p.37)
I think anyone who has been through grief and loss can relate to such conflicting emotions.
To forget is to betray.
To remember is to relive the pain.
It seems that, when one’s fighting against the past, there is no way to win.
And what can cause more grief and loss than a war ?
The war has ended but the fight with the past has not.
Nevers, France. Hiroshima, Japan. Two places grieving. Two places, all at once, struggling to remember and forget with all their might.
This struggle with memory intertwines with the love affair, intensifies it, dooms it and sublimates it.
What will never cease to touch me is the following conversation between them:
“She ( Calmly): Why talk of him rather than the others?
He: Why not?
She: No. Why?
He: Because of Nevers. I can only begin to know you, and among many thousands of things in your life, I am choosing Nevers.”(p.51)
Memories shape a person, and sometimes it’s all we have and all we are. However we try, we can not escape from ourselves.
The Japanese man understands this. While he tries to reach towards the very core of her being, he needs to see Nevers. Nevers, the place that bears insufferable pain for the French woman, the place that she dreams about every day but does not dare to speak of, defines her.
“He: It was there, I seem to have understood, that I almost…lost you…and that I rushed ever knowing you…”
He: It was there, I seem to have understood, that you must have begun to be what you are today.” (p51)
He is the person who sees her for her memories, for her traumas, her madness and her anger.
Yet, She recognizes this love is hopeless. Just like her love in Nevers.
“ A hopeless love, killed like the Nevers love. Therefore already relegated to oblivion. Therefore eternal.” (p.12)
But, unlike the love in Nevers that leaves only scars, I would like to think their love, both short-lived and eternal, also hints at something hopeful. Through this affair, they have faced the past, and maybe they can now start healing.
The first 15 minutes of the movie might be one of the greatest opening scenes of all the movies I have seen.
I think the director Alain Resnais has shown what Duras tries to convey through her play very faithfully.
We have two naked bodies, interlocking but also pushing against one another. They are sweaty with desire, and seemingly covered with dust, evocative of the aftermath of a nuclear fallout. Then we get the dialogue of the woman and all that she says she saw in Hiroshima,
Juxtaposed with the erotism are the horrifying images of the nuclear fallout. The result is shocking, disquieting and sacrilegious.
The woman insists that she saw everything in Hiroshima, while the man dispassionately replies “No, you saw nothing”.
For this Duras provides a perfect explanation:
“Thus their initial exchange is allegorical. In short, an operatic exchange. Impossible to talk about Hiroshima. All one can do is talk about the impossibility of talking about Hiroshima. The knowledge of Hiroshima being stated à priori by an exemplary delusion of the mind.
This beginning, this official parade of already well-known horrors from Hiroshima, recalled in a hotel bed, this sacrilegious recollection, is voluntary. One can talk about Hiroshima anywhere, even in a hotel bed, during a chance, an adulterous love affair. The bodies of both protagonists, who are really in love with each other, will remind us of this. What is really sacrilegious, if anything is, is Hiroshima itself. There's no point in being hypocritical and avoiding the issue.” (p.9)
This reminded me of the time when I was at a dinner party and the topic of the conversation moved to wars, and everyone’s face sank with a mournful expression and soon we all fell silent…someone, timely, cracked a silly joke and the party spirit was revived. The entire night seemed so surreal everytime I thought about it.
This also reminded me of the French woman’s response to the Japanese man, when asked what Hiroshima meant for her.
She says “ The end of war, I mean, the end. Amazement… at the idea that they had dared…amazement at the idea that they had succeeded. And then too, for us, the beginning of an unknown fear. And then, indifference. And also the fear of indifference.”
The shadows of war can be seen everywhere in this movie and in the screenplay. The images of the nuclear fallout, the parades for peace with anti-war posters, the reason why the woman was in Hiroshima in the first place was because she was acting in a movie about peace ( isn’t any movie about peace also about war?)
But first and foremost, the horror of war is seen through love and memories.
Through their collective trauma from war, the Japanese man and the French woman notice, see and understand each other. Without the horrors of the war, their love would be impossible.
But it is also examined through the memories of the woman and her struggle with those memories.
At the beginning of the play, the French woman says “ I’ve always wept over the fate of Hiroshima. Always.”
There might be an element of the superficial sadness that tourists experience, but the brutal reality of her fate might convince the readers/viewers otherwise.
She might have not seen everything, but in a sense, she also did see everything. That “everything” she saw is the endless horror of war and the torment that war can impose on each individual who goes through it.
“She:Hi-ro-shi-ma.
Hi–ro-shi-ma. That’s your name.
He: That’s my name. Yes. Your name is Nevers. Ne-vers-in France.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about the movie after I saw it earlier this week.
And I thought about it some more after I read the screenplay.
The movie is highly faithful to the play with some minor changes. I highly recommend watching the movie and reading the play. -
”- Jag har tvivelaktig moral, förstår du.
– Vad betyder det för dig?
– Att man tvivlar på andras moral.”
En fransk skådespelerska och en japansk arkitekt spenderar ett passionerat dygn tillsammans i Hiroshima. Det är intrigen i detta filmmanus som Marguerite Duras skrev som ett beställningsjobb, 1958. Det var tal om att göra (ännu) en dokumentärfilm om Hiroshima, men regissören Alain Resnais sa nej. Han lät Duras skriva något mycket större. Utan att ge vika för den dokumentära verklighet som atombomben medförde får Hiroshima min älskade i sin metakonstruktion också med japanernas synvinkel på just dokumentärfilmerna. Man kan läsa, tala, se bilder och filmer för att försöka förstå. Men det är i brist på annat, det räcker inte till. ”Du har ingenting sett i Hiroshima.” Säger han till henne, eftersom hon aldrig kan förstå hur det var att vara där när bomben fälldes. Om valet av den japanske skådespelare skriver Duras:
”Valet av en japansk skådespelare av västerländsk typ bör tolkas på följande sätt:
En japansk skådespelare av utpräglat japansk typ skulle medföra risken att man tror att det i synnerhet är för att hjälten är japan som fransyskan dras till honom. Då skulle man, vare sig man vill eller inte, åter falla i exotismens fälla och i den ofrivilliga rasism som är en ofrånkomlig beståndsdel av all exotism.
[…] Om åskådaren aldrig glömmer att det handlar om en japan och en fransyska, existerar inte längre filmens djupare betydelse. Om åskådaren glömmer det, uppnås denna djupare betydelse.”
Jag läste manuset först, blev helt till mig. Sen såg jag filmen (från 1959), blev ännu mer till mig. Det här är en upplevelse jag varmt vill rekommendera. En av de komplexa teman som Duras angriper är språkets begränsningar. Jag har sällan upplevt det så starkt själv när jag nu ska skriva den här texten. Hur många ord jag än använder lyckas jag inte göra upplevelsen rättvis. Jag skulle lika gärna kunna skriva bara ett ord, vilket i så fall skulle vara: avstånd.
I staden förknippad med ond bråd död får de uppleva kärleken. Hon är där för att spela in en dokumentärfilm om freden. De är båda lyckligt gifta, men när kärlek uppstår framstår otrohet som en bagatell. Den kortvariga förbindelsen som kommer att upphöra när hon lämnar Hiroshima gör att hon vågar berätta om sitt trauma. Duras sätter fokus på människans villkor att leva med minnen, språk, drömmar och känslor samt hur vi tvingas förhålla oss till den outgrundliga tiden. En hel människa är både vacker och ful, Duras är väldigt bra på att skapa karaktärer som lever upp som hela motsägelsefulla människor. ”Du dödar mig. Du gör mig gott.” ”Jag ljuger. Jag talar sanning.” Säger fransyskan till sin japanska älskare.
Duras lyfter fram hur språket begränsar möjligheterna för oss människor att förstå varandra och hur exotifieringens problematik kan vara en del av det. Fransyskan ler när hon uttalar Hi-ro-shi-ma. När han med rynkade ögonbryn frågar henne hur hennes bild av staden var innan hon upplevt den, svarar hon att den hör samman med slutet på kriget. När han sedan njuter av att uttala hennes hemort Nevers och påtalar hur vackert det låter, blir hon illa till mods eftersom hon förknippar det med sitt trauma. Jag blir yr när tänker på att nästan alla ord har olika konnotationer för olika människor. Fransyskan menar att vad kunde en internationell film man spelar in i Hiroshima annars handla om, om inte freden. Men för honom som är född där, som förlorat sin familj där, som lever sitt liv där är uppfattningen förstås en annan.
Här sätter författaren ord på en känsla som jag ju äldre jag blir, får allt svårare att slå undan: viljan av att beundra människan är berövad. Jag tror att andra världskriget berövade Duras denna vilja.
”Att kunna se på riktigt, det är något man kan lära sig.”
Och det var uppenbarligen något Duras lärt sig. Ett geni var hon! GENI! -
Me ha atrapado desde el principio, y la historia es espectacular. He creído, he sentido ese amor entre dos desconocidos, ese amor surgido en horas, ese amor que salva.
El libro está contado en forma de guión de película, y entre los diálogos, se dan indicaciones de lo que debería aparecer en pantalla. Me ha parecido fascinante, porque llega a transmitir muchísimo con una estructura totalmente distinta. Siempre he pensado-dudado en cómo sería un guión adaptado de un libro. Siempre he supuesto que sería más "frío" que la novela de la que provenía. Si se parecen en algo a "Hiroshima mon amour", ¡quiero leerlos!. Que algún actor-actriz experto en ese campo me aclare mis dudas, por favorrrrr.
La parte final del libro, con indicaciones de distintos escenarios desde distintos ángulos...: una delicia. -
I can’t stop smiling at the ‘background notes’ and, um, production/directorial parentheticals that Duras gave the director, Resnais. I swear there is twice the amount of Duras’ notes than dialogue, and who’d want it any other way?
But those poor actors; talk about backstory! Below, an excerpt—bear in mind this is from one of the appendices that the lead is supposed to just subsume while pretending to be someone else (called: playing). ‘I need you to know this in your blood, and then forget it. It’s not being filmed.’
Take it away, the Grandest Dame to ever do it:
“A GERMAN SOLDIER CROSSES A PROVINCIAL
SQUARE DURING THE WAR
Late one afternoon a German soldier crosses a square somewhere in the provinces of France.
Even war is boring.
The German soldier crosses the square like a peaceful target.”
————————
Yup. That’s it.
I wonder if my Marguerite enjoyed baseball? -
A hopeless love [...] therefore already relegated to oblivion. Therefore eternal.
[...] Just as in love this illusion exists, this illusion of being able never to forget [...] Like you, I know what it is to forget. [...] Like you, I have a memory. I know what it is to forget. [...] Like you, I too have tried with all my might not to forget. Like you, I forgot. Like you, I wanted to have an inconsolable memory, a memory of shadows and stone. -
“Hiroshima mon Amour” es una la película de 1959 dirigida por Alain Resnais, reconocido documentalista que ingresaba al género de ficción, con el guion poético, complejo y preciso de Marguerite Duras. Esta obra contiene el guion original de la cinta, la sinopsis, anotaciones sobre los personajes y algunos parlamentos omitidos. Duras fue una destacada intelectual que imprimió en su prosa algunos debates del psicoanálisis y del arte contemporáneo, en ese sentido, fue una escritora interdisciplinar que, en algunas de sus novelas, incluyó anotaciones sobre cómo debería ser su adaptación cinematográfica. A Resnais le encargaron filmar una película sobre el horror de Hiroshima y sus secuelas, acudió a Durás, que escribió un relato ficticio sobre el amor, a medio camino entre la vida y la muerte. Una francesa que terminó un rodaje en Hiroshima se encuentra enlazada con un japonés, son amantes, no conocemos sus nombres. A través de diálogos e imágenes Durás y Resnais crean una obra que cuestiona ciertas dicotomías interpelando al lector/espectador a una mirada más atenta a la realidad. Escenarios terribles, deformaciones y caos, desesperanzas y ceniza se funden en la piel de los amantes, que, entregados al deseo, se debaten en el amor y en el olvido, en el pasado y el presente; o más bien, entienden que no hay diferencia entre el pasado y el presente, lo pretérito no dejó de ocurrir, sigue aconteciendo en el presente, en cada instante, son dos lados de un cristal, las caras de una misma moneda. La separación es inevitable, ella partirá al día siguiente: “Dentro de unos cuantos años, cuando te haya olvidado, y cuando otras historias como ésta, por la fuerza de la costumbre otra vez, vuelvan a suceder, me acordaré de ti como del olvido del amor mismo. Pensaré en todo esto como en el horror del olvido. Lo sé ya desde ahora”.
El proceso de “Hiroshima mon amour” provocó un giro en el argumento y alcance inicial de la película, que quería retratar “el horror por el horror”, para contar una historia de amor, análoga a la tragedia de Hiroshima. Para Duras, la historia de amor debe ser universal, más allá de la imposibilidad de conocerse y amar en Hiroshima; debe prevalecer sobre la guerra, sobre la muerte. Avanzan los amantes taciturnos a los rincones íntimos de su ser, conocemos el pasado de la francesa en Nevers, amando de forma prohibida a un soldado alemán durante la ocupación de la segunda guerra, que, abatido frente a sus ojos, le enseñó dolor y humillación. La tragedia la llevará a la perfidia, a la locura, a la desesperanza de no poder morir de amor, porque la vida brota de la muerte y la muerte flota en la vida como flujos de correspondencia, como materiales en simbiosis. Marguerite cuestiona viejos paradigmas amatorios, si el amante parte de este mundo, es mejor quedarse y mantener viva la llama, que morir junto a él y extinguirla. Por supuesto la historia está incompleta, Duras no cuenta historias, abre puertas, presenta indicios, muestra caminos al lector; recreando sus propias experiencias para despojar el alma de hipocresías y cuestionar convenciones intelectuales con un lirismo que acaricia, que abraza con el fuego de la guerra y la pasión. -
Hiroşima'da olanlar; yalnızca Hiroşima'da olmadı. Aslında, her insanın bir Hiroşima'sı vardı.
Duras'ın bu muhteşem kitabı, 1959 yılında Alain Resnais'nın yönettiği başrollerini şirin aktris Emmanuelle Riva'nın Eiji Okada'yla paylaştığı şahane Hiroshima Mon Amour filminin senaryosu. Klasik senaryoların aksine filmin düşünsel altyapısını da yazmaya çalıştığı ve bunda gayet başarılı olduğu bu kitapta; sahnelerin nasıl mesajlar vermesi gerektiğine kadar yazmış Duras. Genellikle senaryo metinlerinde yönetmenleri bir nebze zor durumda bırakacak ve onların hareket alanını kısıtlayacak bu tip açıklamalar görmediğim için bana ilginç geldi.
İnsanların, yalnızca insanların hikayesi; Hiroşima. Her insanın bir kaosu var, bir yıkılışı, bir unutuşu ve unutuluşu.
"Yılgının izlerini yılgıyla silmek..." (s.9)
"Kadın- (Yavaşça) … Dinle beni. Ben de senin kadar biliyorum unutmanın ne olduğunu.
Erkek- Hayır unutmanın ne olduğunu bilmiyorsun sen.
Kadın - Benim de bir belleğim var, senin gibi. Biliyorum unutmanın ne olduğunu.
Erkek - Hayır, belleğin yok senin.
Kadın - Senin gibi ben de var gücümle çırpındım, unutmamak için. Senin gibi, unuttum. senin gibi ben de, avunmak bilmez bir belleğim olsun istedim; gölgelerden, taşlardan bir belleğim." (s.21-22)
"Daha önce de görmüş olduğumu hatırlıyorum - daha önce- seviştiğimiz, mutlu olduğumuz günlerde.
Hatırlıyorum.
Mürekkebi görüyorum.
Günışığını görüyorum.
Hayatımı, ölümünü görüyorum.
Sürüp giden hayatımı. Sürüp giden ölümünü.
...
Ve gölgelerin odanın köşelerine varmaları için daha çok zaman geçtiğini. Ve artık gölgelerin mahzen duvarlarının köşelerine varmaları için daha çok zaman geçtiğini. Saat altı buçuğa doğru.
Kış bitti." (s.56)
"Tıpkı onun gibi, senin de gözlerinden başlayacak unutulmak.
Tıpkı.
Sonra, tıpkı onun gibi, unutulmak sesini kaplayacak.
Tıpkı.
Sonra, tıpkı onun gibi, her yanını kuşatacak yavaş yavaş.
Bir türkü olacaksın." (s.68)
https://agacingovdesi.com/2021/03/29/... -
Encontro-te.
Lembro-me de ti.
Esta cidade era feita à medida do amor.
Tu eras feito à medida do meu próprio corpo.
Quem és tu?
Matas-me.
Tinha fome. Fome de infidelidades, adultérios, mentiras. Fome de morrer.
Desde sempre.
Eu bem suspeitava que um dia me havias de aparecer.
Esperava-te com uma paciência sem limites, calma.
Devora-me. Deforma-me à tua imagem, a fim de que nenhum outro, depois de ti, compreenda a razão de tanto desejo.
Vamos ficar sós, meu amor.
A noite não acabará.
O dia não voltará a romper para ninguém.
Jamais. Nunca mais. Por fim.
Matas-me.
Fazes-me bem.
Choremos conscienciosamente e com boa vontade o dia defunto.
Nada mais teremos a fazer senão chorar o dia defunto.
O tempo passará. Apenas o tempo.
E mais tempo há-de vir.
O tempo virá em que não saberemos que nome dar ao que nos unirá. O nome apagar-se-á a pouco e pouco da nossa memória.
Depois desaparecerá por completo.
