It's about love. There are elements of performance art, particularly in the first part. Something is narrated and then performed. I love the sugar, because that is so accurate as a form of desperation. The second part is like a silent documentary. Then there is a narrative. Lastly there is a seduction and lovemaking. "Leap and dance and kiss whom you please."
I can't recall a time I have been more devastated by an artist leaving this life. I don't know of another filmmaker who has captured such agonizing isolation meshed simultaneously with rabid intimacy via the most minimal of means. This is human being.
A fellow mubi user, Matthew Marten's put it best: "Je Tu Il Elle is another of [Ackerman's] fine and convincing demonstrations that the rigors of avant-garde experimentation can coexist peaceably and movingly with highly personal, emotional material."
These early Akermans are such a strange and lustrous lot. Je Tu Il Elle is another of her fine and convincing demonstrations that the rigors of avant-garde experimentation can coexist peaceably and movingly with highly personal, emotional material.
A brave, very intimate debut. I love the kind of films where you can immediately feel an honest, expressive voice behind the camera, and here a 25-year old Akerman builds her own atmosphere and language to let it all out.
slightly at a loss for words. longer static shots exposing us to a certain intimacy in quiet moments with Akerman make us feel the passage of time. narrating actions slightly before they happen make us wait for them to happen, sound edited in such a way to make the action feel disconnected from the moment.
sloppy, depressed, narcissistic recluse, with sexual urges (!), akerman exerts: I dare indulge myself. before abdellatif kechiche and lena dunham, there was chantal akerman - who portrayed the female body and lesbian sex with radical audacity.