Incredibly touching, I haven't felt so invested emotionally in a film for a while. It's a testament to Chantal's talent that scenes of stillness reverberate affection. It's so serene in its documentation of their relationship, which is even more affecting now since Chantal has passed. Rewarding way to end my year, a film with a slow beating pulse that makes you cry and smile.
No explanation, no context, no home.We're left almost as if we were thrown in a place,left inside a mom-daughter relation we know nothing about.That's where the violence,the rawness and the beauty of this film comes from:Chantal doesn't have a home,and she soon won't have that only person that represent something like a "from" where to belong to.In a way,she seems as lost as we'll probably be while watching this film
That's the way I, also, remember my mother; her breathing, her coughs, her eating and her story-telling. That's the way of making love, between Chantal and her mommy, that I missed so much. and that passages shot in a barren land from a car, reminded me of my homeland. Everything was ready to melt my heart.
Chantal Akerman's No Home Movie is a very poignant and personal documentation of a mother and daughter's relationship. The conversations within the comfort of home capture a sense of how Natalia's past has shaped her way of life with a powerful subtlety. Rest in peace.
This film tells a moving story that is incredibly personal to the director. This is obvious. The ability to stay cool to the subject matter in the film is probably the director's greatest talent, and something I was not expecting to be able to say. The film does still drag at times and I would have loved a little more diversity of techniques on display to enliven the film. There is little I can say bad about the film
I had never heard of Chantal Akerman before and even though I didn't enjoy this film I'm still curious to further explore her filmography. Maybe the whole thing just went over my head, but I just don't see what is so fascinating in watching an old women try to use Skype or chastise her daughter for not eating enough. I do appreciate that this shows you can make a film about anything, it's strangely inspiring.
What a gorgeous final statement from Chantal Ackerman. Loss, love, isolation, the passing of time, intimacy—there is so much going on in this minimalist frames. The device of the nature footage, with that wind in the background, adds gorgeous depth to Ackerman's essay about her love for her mother, and the pain of coming to terms with a parent's aging. As eloquent a poem as I have read or seen anywhere.
Akerman is not the obvious person to capture the end of privacy, yet here she is, peeping Chantal slyly filming people on the streets, on watching webcams, deteriorating in intimate environments. All the while big expanses of nothing move by a car window, suggesting there still might be retreats - or abysses - to aid us disappear in solitude. Loving, wounded, distance and intimacy, immensely moving.
Akerman's final film is a remarkable tribute to her mother and to her own skills as a filmmaker in making something so fascinating out of footage that at first glance seems trivial. The idea of legacy and the passing of experience before its too late seems to run through the piece and the hope that regret is not the dominating emotion we'll feel when family disappear from our life. Tightly constructed and edited.