A fantastic article:
“Chantal Akerman’s most famous film gives away all that is factual about it in its name itself. The rest of it follows what the titular Jeanne Dielman (Delphine Seyrig) does in this 23, Commerce Quay, 1080 Bruxelles house of hers, over a three day period in almost in its entirety. Using completely stationery cameras, Akerman creates a claustrophobic document of life in its most mundane form. Even with a screen time of over three hours, there isn’t much in the movie that could be fit into something called plot. That, precisely, is Akerman’s intention. Details are given with extreme reluctance and in exceedingly small measures (with hardly 10 minutes of spoken dialogue). On the first day, we witness Jeanne ritualistically moving about in her house, switching on and off the room lights, cooking potatoes for her obedient son, arranging tables, doing the dishes and making the bed. She earns by selling herself during the afternoons in her very house. All this is done by the book, if there ever was one.
It is precisely these systematic acts which become our reference for the next day. The next day follows almost the same pattern. Only that Jeanne drops a spoon and the polishing brush. Oh yes, she also goofs up the dinner! On the third day, the bank is closed, she reaches a shop before it opens, the coffee is spoilt and a button snaps off from her son’s blazer. This is all the change that Akerman allows Jeanne. What surfaces is a gradually progressive deviation from our “reference” and perhaps for the worse. Like the geometrically flawless décor and lighting of the film, which exude cheerfulness, contentment and sanity are only apparent. It is almost as if one can mathematically calculate, using these extremely small “mishaps”, when Jeanne will completely succumb to her condition. And this is the kind of gradual disintegration of sanity that many films fail to portray credibly (Revolutionary Road (2008) comes to mind first). What happens obscures how it all happens. Cinema becomes text. Although Jeanne Dielman is much more extreme in its form than the mainstream narrative cinema would require, it clearly shows that why a formal stance doesn’t merely justify the medium chosen but enhances its possibilities.
It wouldn’t be unfair to call Jeanne Dielman an experimental film. Where other films that deal with similar theme of urban alienation tend to bend towards the cerebral side, Jeanne Dielman is more experiential. At any point in the film, once the viewer gathers everything there is to an image, like Tarr’s movies, fatigue sets in. We start experiencing time as it is, undiluted. In other words, we begin taking part in Jeanne’s life by experiencing the savage inertia of time. The only difference is that she is oblivious to it while we, possessing knowledge of the artificial and transitory nature of cinema, are not. Jeanne doesn’t pass through life. She lets life pass through her. Not once does she show signs of emotional fatigue. She is insensitive to her condition much more than her cerebral counterparts. Except for one sequence at a button store, where she shows clear indications of mental derailment, there apparently is no outlet for her emotions at all. Apart from the perfunctory conversations with her son and the occasional visit by the neighbour, who asks Jeanne to take care of her baby (who could well be considered a miniature Jeanne) from time to time, Jeanne is completely cut off (at times literally, in the frame) from the world.
In his extraordinary article on Tarr, Kovács writes about the director’s style:
In Tarr’s world, deconstruction is slow but unstoppable and finds its way everywhere. The question, therefore, is not how to stop or avoid this process, but what we do in the meantime? Tarr asks this question of the audience, but if the audience wants to understand the question, it first has to understand the fatality of time. And in order to grasp that, it has to understand that there is no excuse in surviving the present moment: time is empty—an infinite and undivided dimension, in which everything repeats itself the same way.Akerman’s own style does not seem far from this. Through repetitions, in gratuitous amounts, Akerman creates a film of high precision and low life quotient. In fact, everything in the film seems to exhaust itself the moment it takes birth. Akerman repeats every element of the film – time (Jeanne’s daily routine), space (the viewer is immediately acquainted with the couple of rooms that the almost the whole film takes place in), the actors’ movement and gestures (Jeanne act of switching off lights moves from interesting to an in-joke) and even camera angles (as if the actors are passing in front of stationery cameras installed at various locations in the house).
The only hope for Jeanne to snap out of this vicious loop comes in the form of the final sequence in the film where she stabs to death an unsuspecting client of hers (Actually, it is never made clear if the scene takes place in Jeanne’s present or not. The man could well be her husband, whose death is talked about regularly in the film, thus, also, creating a narrative loop within the film. But considering the realities of the world, it is unlikely). This is where Akerman deviates from Tarr. Tarr seals his characters in their own existence until they fade into oblivion. His characters neither have history or hope. Akerman, on the other hand, gives her characters a past and a future. The circle in Jeanne’s life may just be a stray deadlock that had to be resolved by her action (rather, by ceasing her inaction). There is certainly a gaze at a different future throughout the film. Jeanne is expecting a gift from her aunt, which is revealed to be a dress later. She deposits money in the bank for future use. Her aunt even urges her to migrate to Canada. Even though, a large part of the movie is concerned with her empty life, it does offer a hope for renewal.
Obviously, Akerman is far from being a romantic. It is true that she does not choose to tread Tarr’s spiral, which seems to go in circles but ends only in decimation, and concocts an open ending, thus leaving margin for hope of escape. But why Akerman’s masterwork feels ultimately like an exercise in despair is that she generalizes Jeanne’s existence. As a matter of fact, we don’t even know if the lady we are watching is Jeanne or if the building is the one mentioned in the title. By not pinning down particulars, Akerman seems to speak for an entire generation and era. Of course, the whole film could be deconstructed to unveil political, social, sexual and cultural outlook of the age, but what makes Jeanne Dielman stand out from its contemporaries is not its keen study of lives in modern times, but its ability to make us experience what every Jeanne Dielman experiences and understand why we each of us, in a way, has become a Jeanne Dielman."
I haven’t seen this film yet, but why do you need convincing? Either you like it or you don’t. Nothing can convince me Celine and Julie Go Boating is a 5 Star film, I’ll be open to others’ opinions, but it won’t really change my mind. Only you can change your mind about a certain film, others’ can’t do it for you.
I know what you mean, Bean. I think it’s genius because I’m interested in how Minimalism works (and when I saw it for the WC last year, I’d prepared my palate with HHH and Weeresethakul already).
I loved it but I’m not watching it again anytime soon.
That was quick, Law, thanks. Is this how you feel about the film? I’ve read similar articles in the past and they all say pretty much the same thing, which is not much. I understand what the film is trying to say and why it was filmed the way it was, but to me it just wasn’t effective.
Did other Minimalist films stick with you, or is it just JD?
I agree with Glemaud. I’ve read countless reviews and articles, heard plenty of thought out and intelligent opinions about Eraserhead and I still find the film to be garbage. Why bother asking people to change your mind? It’s not going to change anything if you do or don’t like the film. The only way you’re going to feel differently is if you wait a while, and re-watch it with a fresh outlook and maybe a more mature mind. That happens a lot when you keep an open mind about things. And if you go back and you still don’t like it, then…you don’t like it. And that’s that.
Personally, I’ve never even seen the film.
@Glemaud – I agree with that, but I do like to hear what other folks have to say about how certain films are viewed differently. This one in particular.
@JR – How can you love a film and then not want to watch it again anytime soon? I’m being sincere.
Bean—you know even as I was typing that I was thinking to myself, “Self, I kinda want to watch it again, actually,” so I’m a bit of a liar. I definitely don’t consider it as rewatchable as Goodbye South, Goodbye or Syndromes and a Century.
I won’t answer for R., but I’m perfectly capable of not watching a much loved film ever again. Example: A Page of Madness. I know it’s a great film, I love it, but there’s really no reason for me to watch it again.
Then again, I’m a strong supporter of the “Watch a Film Only Once” club.
There are some films that I love that I wouldn’t watch again because of the conditions in which I first saw them in. For example I saw Sunrise on 35mm with a live band, and no rewatch can ever rival that experience.
I’m not looking for or asking anyone to change my mind, although I am open to it, but I am curious about Jeanne Dielman specifically because it did absolutely nothing for me. I usually take something away from a film.
I haven’t seen a lot of minimalist films, and maybe it’s not my thing, which is ok, but it’s rare that a film will have no impact on me at all.
“I’m not looking for or asking anyone to change my mind”
“PLEASE TRY TO CONVINCE ME THAT JEANNE DIELMAN . . . IS A 5 STAR MOVIE.”
Hm.
@ GLEMAUD
I know what you mean about once being enough for some films. I have a bad habit of buying those very movies, watching them, and seeing them on my shelf and sighing. Some films, for many reasons, just don’t need multiple viewings.
I think films can be seen once, twice, thrice or more, but I think the fundamental error is the idea that by seeing them more, you are discovering undertones and unpeeling layers. Maybe that works to a certain extent, but it must be acknowledged that because of the different context you are seeing the film in, you are on the whole receiving a different experience, and various phenomenological differences thus change your approach to the film. Rewatches are good perhaps for uncovering craft but definitely not necessary. (This reminds me of the Rodney King incident.)
Yes, Vocalities, that is how I phrased the title of the thread, but it wasn’t meant as some type of challenge to change my mind (sorry if that was how it was taken). I am more interested in how others view the film and why. I phrased it that way because I’m leaving my mind open on this one, for now.
Well said, Law. I agree with that.
“For example I saw Sunrise on 35mm with a live band, and no rewatch can ever rival that experience.”
i so fuckin’ envy you now :(
Soybean: I think what happens is when a film is touted as one of the greatest or one of the best that they have seen, when you watch it, you don’t come off feeling the same way.
A perfect example is “Citizen Kane”, which is considered in the US and other countries as one of the best films ever made. But I’ve watched the film with other people who have never watched it before and they came away saying “I thought it was good…..but not great”.
It all comes down to the viewer.
In terms of rewatching a film that I really loved… I loved “The Shawshank Redemption” but I have not wanted to watch it again. The same with “Seven Samurai”, “The 400 Blows” or “The Third Man”… mainly because I have too many other films that I want to watch that I just don’t feel like rewatching them immediately. Films I tend to rewatch are films I know I miss out on a lot of details the first time around. (Tatis’ “Playtime” and Chris Marker’s “Sans Soleil” are examples).
LAW: I agree with you. Watching a film can definitely discover undertones and unpeel layers. For example, Jacques Tati’s “Play time”…I enjoy the film a lot. I continually discover something new each time I watch it and for me, that is why I find myself rewatching it. The same can be said for Chris Marker’s “Sans Soleil”… Anyone watch a Mamoru Oshii film and get it at first…I swear I had to watch “Ghost in the Shell” many times in the beginning and at the first watch, it did nothing for me until I rewatched it several times to actually enjoy it.
I am just in the process of re-watching this film (in Criterion’s new release), after initially seeing it in the AWC event for team Belgium. Although I will avoid detailing the end, I am writing this in answer to Soybean’s OP and it is intended for those who have watched the film.
I thought then, and I think now, that it is a unique work of cinema. Of course, Akerman doesn’t use any of the ordinary conventions of drama or melodrama in this film. The inner tension is subtle and the emotional build-up happens one mundane task at a time. We see the character of Dielman, played in a brilliant deadpan style by Seyrig, as she goes about her daily mindless routines, like a somnambulist. She tries hard to keep everything just so and perfect, but reality and her own hidden emotions seem to intervene. The only thing that separates her from thousands of other Brussels housemothers out there is the fact that she services male clients to earn some extra money. This act is never shown specifically, until the key end scene, which is revealing in itself of the clever way this film is constructed.
We see a build-up of underlaying tensions and an unravelling in Dielman’s carefully constructed blank persona. The atmosphere of the film takes a subtle turn about halfway through, when Dielman forgets about the cooking potatoes – hardly earth-shattering in itself – but this is where routine events start to undermind her cool exterior. This effect of gradual deconstruction takes place with great subtlety in Akerman’s and her cinematographer’s Babette Mangolte’s careful framing, and how we often see Dielman from a distance, like a clinical specimen.
Of course, this is not an action/adventure, James Bond-type fast paced thriller. Anything but. Yet, it has just as much underlying tension, if you are willing to look closely for it, as any Hitchcockian thriller. It is sublte, slow-paced, and mundane. Still, the tensions are hidden around every super-saturated corner. Just like real life, then, except here we observe, slowly unfolding, how inner tensions overwhelm Dielman’s well-constructed facade. The plot and story unfold much like peeling an onion, or the potatoes Dielman herself peels – layer by layer.
Sure, this film is not for those seeking visceral excitement in every scene, but for those astute enough to observe it, there is just as much tension in each carefully crafted episode as merits this profound and moving film. Does it deserve 5 stars? Most surely it does, as everything in this film is done perfectly, within the context of the story Akerman is telling us. Of course, there is far more going on than this short summary can reveal. A movie not for everyone, but should be viewed by anyone wanting to see the best of feminist filmmaking. A masterpiece of the understated.
That’s my quick take on it, as I continue now to the end of the film. It worked for me, and a second viewing just enhances my own respect for Akerman’s craft and Seyrig’s perfectly controlled acting throughout. 5 stars it still is.
I am curious to know if those not finding this film to their taste also have a problem with the films of others masters of the mundane, such as Antonioni, Hou, Tsai, and Weerasethakul. Perhaps if you do, the fault for you lies in the slow pacing, detailed framing, highlight on objects, so typical of all these different filmmakers. This style could be called minimalist, but I don’t think that adequately captures the hidden reality these filmmakers seek to reveal for us. If you find Akerman too slow or too mundane, then these filmmakers are probably not for you, either. Jeanne Dielman represent a style that is evoked in films as different as L’eclisse, Syndromes and a Century, or Vive l’Amour – all seen in the first rounds of the AWC. Akerman here also reminds me a bit in her pacing of Ozu, at his most subtle, where tiny incidents and gestures reveal everything about a character or situation.
Needless to say – I love this style myself. I don’t find it at all boring, but profound. Still, it’s all a matter of personal taste and perceptions, isn’t it? We all look for different things in a film, and not every film speaks to us directly. If that is the case, move on. However, try to define for yourself what doesn’t work with a filmmaker’s style. Try to understand this first before dismissing any film or style of filmmaking.
you forgot Tarr, Kieslowski, Angelopoulos and Dang in your list Joe ;)
you should be listening to our native critics…most of these guys and gals never receive high positions in polls or film lists, except for a Color Trilogy or Tokyo Story…but nothing more…
A difficult task indeed…..
Jeanne Dielman is a masterpiece of minimalism. If one doesn’t “get” minimalism, the film probably will not make any sense
Minimalism is self-referential – the object doesn’t reference much outside of itself. The structure of the film conforms with the minimalist maxims, which are: primary structures, multiple repetitive units, and randomness.
In reading the film, I am saying that the bedroom scene is random, which means the film isn’t building to violence. I think people are making too much of the daily order of her life into being ominous. I think that is hindsight (or reading other’s notes).
Is it 5 stars? For the genre, indeed it is !
Exactly Joe! This film did not work for me on first viewing but I did NOT want to immediately dismiss it. Maybe it will never work for me but I found your post most helpful and it was exactly the type of response I was looking for.
I think that some of theses films demand more than one viewing. Some of the crucial moments in some of the films I am now watching (Bergman, Tarkovsky, Tarr etc.) are so subtle, or due to cultural differences maybe beyond my understanding, that a second viewing is almost necessary to make sure that I get the film makers intended meaning. Otherwise, why bother?
? – Do Akerman’s other films have similar pacing to this one? What else by her would you recommend?
Thank you RWPIII
Here’s a quote from the booklet that was illuminating for me (I ended up writing a lengthy analysis for a rhetoric class): She has mentioned being particularly impressed with Michael Snow’s La region centrale, a film whose random camera movements over a humanless landscape “opened [my] mind to the relationship between film and your body, time as the most important thing in film.”
I think it’s important to consider how Jeanne Dielman’s structure separates itself from traditional narrative film. If we can equate the act of seeing with “knowing,” what is the effect of showing these long stretches of a housewife’s existence? Do we “experience” her time in a more complete fashion than a narrative film that jumps from scene to scene? What happens when time is left more or less as it is in real life, and we’re given space to “enter” the movie (in a sense)? How does our relationship with it change?
I apologize for all the words in quotes! Jeanne Dielman is pretty sweet (in my opinion) because it seems to be in and of itself a philosophical question, whereas most films are answers. I can send you my paper to clarify this last point hehehe
Thanks, Soybean. I took your question at face value as I know you are a discerning film viewer yourself. and your question is certainly valid. There are films that I could name that take me time to get my own head around and decide what I think of them. Often, the comments others on this great site have made on a film, or my own readings of reviews, or the Notebook section will give me a different perspective or help me understand a film or its style better. I try to stick with what works for me and what I like personally – and damn the rest!
Re Akerman’s other films: I have only seen the two other films in competition here, Les Rendez-vous d’Anna and Toute une nuit – both were available streaming when the competion was on, but not sure if they are still. Les Rendez-vous is quite different, but has Akerman’s signature realistic touches, with fine attenttion to detail and nuance. It is an altogether different story, about a strong female character this time (a film director herself – self-referential somewhat, I wonder), who is trying to live a life without ties that bind. An excellent film in its own right. The other film was more diffusive, dealing with several characters relationships on a hot summer night. Akerman doesn’t repeat herself in these other two films, but Jeanne Dielman is a work apart, imo. All three films look great in terms of framing and cinematography.
She has a definite style, look, and feel – like all the better filmmakers do. Is she in the class of those I mentioned and Dimitris added to (thanks – love them all, too) – well, I leave that to others to comment. She is unique and has her own vision, which is all you can really expect from any artist.
Joe—you hit on something earlier I’d like to elaborate on: what makes this film important for me and makes it an absolute five star piece is the fact that the kind of tension it builds is real, human tension.
In actual life tension is not denoted by a stirring string section. Dramatic turns aren’t underscored by percussion—they are subtle, creeping things perhaps not noticeable to outsiders, but there nonetheless.
How many times have we heard, after a gruesome murder, outsiders claim the perpetrator was a calm, quiet type? JD is special because it is so very, very real, because it realizes perfectly the expression of the human condition.
After my earlier posts I was thinking about this film and our conversation while going through some mundane tasks of my own (de-stringing the trees in my front yard of Xmas lights), and I found a concrete reason to watch this film again: to see if there are any cracks in the facade, to see just how perfect it constructs its reality. I’m sure others have been there already but it seems like a worthy project.
@Soybean
I don’t think the question is really about Jeanne Dielman. The article Law posted sums up what’s great pretty well and you said you’ve read similar articles and found them wanting. I think the question with this film and all films is “what do you think makes a movie great?” I’m not talking about a laundry list but, based on other films you like, you must know what you value in a film. If you feel a film that doesn’t satisfy your typical needs is still nagging at you you may want to reevaluate the things you value and determine if the things you dislike or undervalue are actually more worthwhile or meaningful. Or not.
I love the film but if I had never seen it and saw that article with the title removed and knowing nothing about the film other than what was written I would know it was something i would love because I value those things.
effortless
I loved this film and had an extremely strong reaction to it. I don’t think I’m too articulate of a film critic, but there were so many subtle elements that created a five-star experience for me. I loved that there was no background music anywhere, the film was a very visceral study in someone simply existing. Jeanne met her “lovers” but there was no love and each time she accepted their money and put it in its correct place with such icy precision. Delphine Seyrig gave an amazing performance, a lonely person with a disaffected son and virtually no human warmth. “Doinel” calls it “ennui” up there and that is perfect: Jeanne is so far removed from the world (in terms of love, caring, human warmth) but also merely exists in the world (through carefully detailed chores and routines).
I really loved the wallpaper and all of the beautiful colors/hues. Jeanne’s outfits were amazing. The film still seems ultra-modern despite it being made over thirty years ago.
I was thinking about this film and our conversation while going through some mundane tasks of my own . . .
- JR, sometimes you worry me.
If you feel a film that doesn’t satisfy your typical needs is still nagging at you you may want to reevaluate the things you value and determine if the things you dislike or undervalue are actually more worthwhile or meaningful.
I found this comment particularly insightful because this film has been nagging at me and that is why I posted this thread.
I’ve been on this site for about a year now and my appreciation of all types of film has grown tremendously. Jeanne Dielman in particular has been nagging at me and maybe it will continue to do so but all of the comments here have been most helpful. Much thanks.
SOYBEAN
I noticed that a lot of people here rate this movie with 5 stars. I don’t see it that way but I am willing to listen and I’m open to changing my mind about how I feel about the film. (I have yet to rate it)
How do I feel about the film? Well, I don’t feel much of anything to be honest. It really had no impact on me at all. Please don’t tell me that that was the point. I hope not. Maybe I missed something and I want to hear from those that liked it to possibly give me a different perspective from which to view this film.