Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Cyril Collard
Lawrence R. Schehr
French Forum, Volume 34, Number 1, Winter 2009, pp. 53-65 (Article)
Lawrence R. Schehr
Fragmented Territories
AIDS and Paris in Les Nuits Fauves of Cyril Collard
Written at the height of the AIDS crisis, Cyril Collards novel Les
Nuits fauves (1989) is a singular approach to mapping AIDS on the
body and in the city of Paris. Collard uses Paris and the ailing body
as interchangeable metonyms for one another, in a style that renews
classic nineteenth-century narratives use of the mapping of geographic space as a figure of the protagonists success or failure. Thus,
in Le Pre Goriot, to choose the most famous example, Balzac sets
out three separate neighborhoodsthe Latin Quarter, the Faubourg
St. Honor, and the Faubourg St. Germainthe understanding and
ultimate conquest of which are signs of Eugne de Rastignacs eventual success. And, when at Goriots funeral, Rastignac launches his
challenge to Paris, it is as if he can see all of Paris from the vantage
point of the elevated Pre Lachaise cemetery.1 Similarly, in Bel-Ami,
Maupassant traces a finely hewn itinerary for Georges Duroy, whose
success can once again be gauged by where he is in Paris.2 In both
cases, the authors tie a semiotics of socio-cultural and socio-political
values to a geography, by which the informed reader can follow plot
development with the aid of his or her knowledge of the city, and can
chart the vagaries, peripetiaie, and trajectories informing the development of AIDS as well.3
If an author like Proust winds up having a more limited Parisian
geography (largely restricted to the eighth, sixteenth, and seventeenth
arrondissements) and if Queneaus Paris in Zazie dans le mtro goes
somewhat awry because of the unreliable geographical knowledge of
his characters, we still find a number of more recent novels and films
using Parisa new Paris, a reinscribed Paris of the post-modern
as a semiotic touchstone. For example, Matthieu Kassovitzs epoch-
making film La Haine, used Paris (and its implicit and explicit opposition to the banlieue) as a geographic metaphor for underlining some
of the serious social problems facing France. And films like Jeunets
Le Fabuleux Destin dAmlie Poulin and the more recent multi-authored film, Paris, je taime, use both stereotypical touristic Paris and
more typically Parisian Paris (i.e., a Paris recognizable to locals,
even without the seemingly obligatory shot of the Eiffel Tower) to
reinscribe the relations of characters and city, of characters within the
city, and of the structuring of subjectivity by the city. Moreover, an
experimental filmmaker like Lionel Soukaz often uses the space in a
way to show how gay Paris reinscribes straight Paris, even when,
as is the case of Soukaz (and that of Guy Hocquenghem) the act is
somewhat disruptive and anti-institutional. In all these recent cases,
Paris and protagonists rework a semiotics of space.4
Thus it comes as no surprise that an author and director such as
Cyril Collard uses Parisian geography as a figure for understanding
the traversal of the AIDS crisis by his autofictional counterpart. And
specifically, there is an association of geography, gay liberation, illness, and mourning that are all tied together in what might, retrospectively, from the point of view of the twenty-first century, seem to be
typical of the period, yet counterproductive for a complete historical
understanding of the lived past. However, now that we are in the second decade of combination therapy, it behooves critics to tease out the
various strands of discoursespersonal, traumatic, public, liberatory,
and even literarythat were bundled during the first decade and a
half of the AIDS crisis, in order to see the construction (and deconstruction) of these discourses through a historical and cultural perspective. And to do that, I am suggesting that an analysis of a personal
and public geography is in order.5
As we think about the social construction into which male same-sex
desire has fit, however comfortably or not, since the early nineteenth
century, if not before, namely what we consider to be homosexuality,
it is invariably associated with city life. As can be seen in numerous
studies of gay city scenes, in the earlier part of this era, cities such as
Paris, London, and New York furnished gay men what they needed to
form their own associations, to have their own underground institutions, and to have the much needed anonymity, far from the prodding
eyes of heteronormative society and family, that was necessary to the
I would argue that this transfer of the AIDS-ridden body to the Right
Bank is an extension of the domain of the syndrome, and readers are
not surprised to find the first direct mention of institutions of same-sex
desire on the right bank a few pages later, with a visit to the rue SainteAnne characterized as a pilgrimage (117). In essence, this pilgrimage
of sorts is a return to a more innocent past, a time before AIDS, when
Pariss gay neighborhood had the rue Sainte-Anne as its center;
this was a time before the Marais became the gay neighborhood.
But just like the disfigurement of the city a few blocks away by the
Colonnes de Buren, the rue Sainte-Anne (first and second) has moved
from its pre-AIDS innocence to being a locus in which young Arab
men act as (gay) gigolos: sex for money, exchange, once again, if not
to say transfer. Collards nostalgia is ironic, of course, as it is a hope
for something that can never again be: a world without/before AIDS,
a world of utopian and pure sexual liberation as figured by the various
movements that arose in the wake of the events of May, 1968.
Paris starts to become invisible, like the actual virus itself (as opposed to its effects), with a reduced physical presence, as if the entirety of the city were more and more the backdrop for the playing out of
a personal drama, there as an ever-changing backdrop for the protagonist alone. So, instead of focusing on the visible, the text significantly enters an aural phase, as Paris becomes the sum of its messages:
Aprs une nuit de drogue, les messages tlphoniques sont une autre
drogue: les mots survolant la ville dun arrondissement lautre, les
tonalits stridentes des fins de messages, les menaces (145). Able to
fly anywhere, the words are a witnessing of the spread of rhizomatic
networks of all sorts. There is no possibility for nice Cartesian lines
here: the wires crisscross each other as they fill the space and air of
the city with transfers of information. The messages, activities, and
infections are all plural, as are the absences noted by writers as disparate as Marcel Proust and Avital Ronell, as these multiplicities repeat
and reinscribe and as they move from the eleventh into the first arrondissement: Faubourg Saint-Antoine, Bastille, rue de Rivoli, nous
ne parlons pas, nous sommes anantis; trop de mots, la ville, la neige,
were a figure of that locus and indistinguishable from it, wants to put
him into a sling (and does), and wants to shave him. Ultimately, in a
moment in the underground parking lot of the building, he urinates on
the protagonist in a facile introduction of the abject (242243), as if
the latter were no more than or no better than a toilet.
Body modification and the abject introduced by the character baptized Ledru-Rollin are, we might say, the beginning of the end. But
Collard also allows that the person in question is a doctor: the city has
become the doctor who treats the patient who will wind up disfigured,
marked, and dehumanized in the process. Not long after, Collard gets
chicken pox and winds up in the Hpital Pasteur (fifteenth), not coincidentally the hospital that predominantly served historically as a hospice for men in the last stages of AIDS (245).13 As Collards volume
progresses, we notice that, at the height of the AIDS crisis, as it intersected with spaces and urban geography, discourses were still not fully
clear, and the logic fades that we often associate with Cartesianism, as
I have already indicated, in favor of a multiply rhizomatic view of the
city and the body as representations of one another. When Cartesian
logic returns, it is at the expense of possibility: the character infected
with AIDS knows that he will not recover, that death is inevitable,
and that it will occur in the relatively near future. Paris serves as a
multiple backdrop for the struggle that is about to become an agony,
and it is marked for Collard as if it were a personal map recording
the moments and events of the inscription of the disease in and on his
body. Once the haven for gays from the provincesthough I hasten
to add that Collard himself was Parisianas the locus in which they
could live their lives and have their discourses and institutions, Paris
became, at least for a while, the place in which many had a rendezvous with death. Though in this case, it was not at some disputed
barricade, but squarely in the City of Light.14
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
Notes
1. Dumas, of course, will repeat this gesture a few years later in Le Comte de Monte-Cristo
(1844), as he situates the Count (Dants) in a position of relative knowledge and power as he
presides over Valentines fake burial at Pre Lachaise.
2. See Lawrence R. Schehr, Parts of an Andrology: On Representations of Mens Bodies.
Works Cited
Asseyas, Olivier et al. Paris, je taime (2006).
Bird, Brad and Jan Pinkava, dirs. Ratatouille (2007).
Caron, David. AIDS in French Culture Social Ills, Literary Cures. Madison: U of Wisconsin P,
2001.
Chauncey, George. Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male
World 18901940. New York: Basic Books, 1994.
Collard, Cyril. Les Nuits fauves. Paris: Jai lu, 1989.
, dir. Les Nuits fauves (1992).
Dauge-Roth, Alexandre. Staging Dialogues and Performing Encounters in French AIDS Narratives. French Forum 39:3 (2004): 95109.