My first viewing of 'Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles' at the Denver International Film Festival in 1983, made a deep impression on me as one of the most challenging and affective films I've ever seen. Yesterday I finished watching it again on HBO and was reminded of why it made such an impression, and why it's a landmark work of cinema, displacing 'Citizen Kane' and 'Vertigo' in the top position in this decades' 'Sight and Sound' poll of over 1,639 international film critics selecting the 100 greatest films of all time.
Chantal Akerman's masterpiece, made when she was 25, emerged out of a revolutionary period in cinema, strongly influenced by the French New Wave and the American Avant Garde scene in New York of the 70's. More than most of the experimental efforts of that time, 'Jeanne Dielman' remains as daring and challenging today as it ever was.
The film is a challenge to viewers, as it explores the 'spaces between' the sort of activities portrayed in conventional cinema. At 3 hrs and 18 minutes it demands considerable patience from the viewer. Following the daily routine of a middle class woman over three days, observing the most mundane activities in real time, our attention is drawn into an acute awareness of the most minute details that make up the activities of a person's life. We watch her wake up, prepare breakfast and dinner, wash the dishes, shop, attend to her rather disengaged teenage son, and receive middle aged men every afternoon for an act of prostitution. What little dialogue that occurs is only in the form of questions and answers to convey the minimum of necessary information. Delphine Seyrig, playing Dielman, holds an almost fixed and neutral expression on her face throughout the entire film.
As we become immersed in the film, there is only time passing, and the endlessly repetitive tasks that become a ritual devoted to order, and the absolute repression of emotional life. We become so attuned to the rigidity of routine, that when the slightest violation occurs we feel a shock of disorientation that signals an underlying current of unbearable tension. When the inevitable explosion takes place it's as sudden and unexpected as a stroke of lightning, happening almost out of our sight and passing quickly into silence and darkness.
We are never more than observers, almost as if we are looking through a microscope. Each scene is a set piece in which characters go about their tasks while the camera remains stationary. The only cuts are between scenes. The actress moves from room to room, to hallway, to street, to post office, to shop. In a strange way we get a clearer view into the deterioration of a person's state of mind than if we were given close ups or POV shots. Here the camera becomes more of a witness and less of a filter.
'Jeanne Dielman' is credited as being one of the pioneering feminist films (films not made by men about women competing with men). It is that and more. Besides presenting a radically feminine perspective on the nature of daily life, it shows us a different way to experience time and space through the eye of the camera. Rather than offering escape through aggressive action and the manipulation of the image, it forces us to become aware of the nuances of inner life as etched in our outer behavior.
For those patient enough to engage with 'Jeanne Dielman,' the rewards are revelatory and well worth the effort.
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