Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975)

A tribute to the late cinema avant-gardist Chantal Akerman, who committed suicide one month earlier at the age of 65, which stroke as a big shock for auteurist cineastes, despite of the fact that her works have never been acknowledged as festival darlings, or enticed into mainstream filmmaking. JEANNE DIELMAN is her most well-known achievement, a minimalist masterpiece came out 40-years ago, made by her at a young age of 25, Akerman is such a staunch and pioneering saboteur to subvert audience's customary viewing experience and triumphs, which only makes us more regret about her untimely departure.

The title refers to the address of Jeanne (Seyrig)'s one-bedroom only apartment, she is a comely widow living with her son Sylvain (Decorte), now a high-schooler, who sleeps on the sofa bed in the living room. The picture runs over 3 hours, spans across 3 days, more precisely, a little longer than 2 entire days, and notably installs long static shots (through various angles) to observe Jeanne doing her daily chores in a mechanically arranged order. From day 1, in the afternoon, 3 minutes into the film, Akerman cunningly stimulates audience with curiosity through the introduction of Jeanne's profession (conveniently she works at home), then, indefatigably details her routines, preparing her 2-course dinner, eating dinner with Sylvain, helping him with homework, reading to him the letter from her sister in Canada, then both take a mysterious night-walk outside before sleeping. Day 2, she wakes up, prepares breakfast, cleans Sylvain's shoes, after he goes to school, she goes out to the post office, grocery, enjoys her coffee break in the bar, takes care of her neighbour's infant, then again prepare food, welcomes a new client, it is a circle meticulously presented and purposefully defies any empathy, thanks to the retiring nature of the mother-and-son pair.

Things goes slightly different in the second circle, firstly the overcooked potato (alleged because her customer has overstayed his time) causes their dinner delayed a bit, but they stick to the routine of night-walk, and a terse before bedtime convo with Sylvain stirs Jeanne (sexual activity and pain, an awkward topic between mother and her son), then day 3, the routine goes on, but Jeanne seems to unnoticeably disquieted, being clumsy in the kitchen, maybe because she wonders why the gift from her sister still hasn't arrived, but the coffee suddenly tastes bad, and she cannot find the right button for Sylvain's coat, even in the bar, her usual spot is taken and is served by a new waitress, also neighbour's baby cannot stop crying when she fondly holds her (the only time Jeanne reveals some evident emotion), there is an understated disintegration in the making. Finally, her sister's gift arrives, but also arrives is another client, she barely have time to try the present, and a scissor is left in the boudoir. The long-awaited twist breaks out abruptly, completely terminates the experimental patience-test which meanders near 3 hours, moreover, it intrigues immensely about the rationalism behind Jeanne's behaviour, feminist stance is an easy explanation, but, too literal, a pattern-disruption angle could be more felicitous, Jeanne is an animal of habitual routines, so is the approach towards her means of livelihood, when this pattern is steadily breached in day 3, she simply cannot take it anymore. The origin of the impulse (apart from Jeanne's taciturn nature) can be traced back to the intangible suppression of the society unleas

Fmovies: Vivid, uncompromising portrait of three days in the lonely life of a middle aged widow who manages her apartment, takes care of her young son and turns tricks for support.

Experimental film consists of stationary, single take camera shots - some lasting several minutes - giving you a glimpse of the main character's repetitive, mundane existence. Whether its stopping at a café to drink coffee, peeling a batch of potatoes in the kitchen or cleaning each porcelain piece in her living room, viewers sit through each arduous task all the way through. It reminded me of some modern day reality shows where a camera is just parked in a room and viewers watch whatever goes on - only in this case Jeanne is usually the only one there.

Delphine Seyrig performance as Jeanne really shines. She is in every scene of the film and really carries it well. It is even more impressive considering that there is very little dialog and that any other characters that appear are peripheral. Seyrig convincingly conveys Jeanne's character and emotional state by simple actions and subtle expressions. This really comes into play on the third day when things start to go wrong and you feel the character is starting to become unhinged.

The camera work and framing of the scenes are exceptionally well done and sound is used very effectively to convey Jeanne's suffocating world. The constant tapping of her shoes as she walks across a wooden floor, the repeated clicking from turning lights on and off, or the mechanical sounds of the elevator each time she goes in or out of her apartment building, they all emphasize the obsessive orderliness and emotional detachment in her life.

The biggest negative about the film is that it is nearly 4 hours long. Sitting that long watching a person doing menial tasks is a bit taxing. I viewed the film piecemeal over three successive evenings (1 for each day represented) which worked for me. On the positive side, the film does grow on you as you watch it and you feel like a bit of a voyeur peering into someone's life. You feel Jeanne's monotony and growing frustration which lets loose in the final shocking act. It's worth checking out.

It sounds a very forbidding film:over three hours of watching a woman do the repetitive household chores which are the norm for housewives in every part of the world.Of course in no Hollywood film would we ever see the lead character run a bath,peel potatoes or lay a table in real time:these are all actions which a commercial director would ruthlessly elide in favour of a powerful narrative,and yet this is never a boring film.Once the viewer becomes accustomed to the different pace and rhythm,there is something hypnotic and fascinating about the daily routines which Jeanne Dielman performs every day.

Narrative,however,has not been entirely banished from this film.There is something strange and unspoken in Jeanne's relationship with her son who comes home every day from college,eats the evening meal,studies, and then pulls out his bed from the wall.Jeanne's life too is shrouded in mystery.Her afternoon encounters with a series of mostly elderly male clients is presented in a straightforward manner totally at odds with the sexual titillation provided by,for example,"Belle de jour" where the camera followed closely Sévérine's sexual encounters.In this film the camera waits discreetly at the bedroom's door until the client takes his leave.

While it is a "feminist" film,a film which was directed by a woman,starring a woman and which had all female crew,it nevertheless has a meaning for men as well.And if you find this film boring,as some viewers do,then you must also find life boring.

Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles fmovies. This is one of the few films that I would absolutely defend as a key work of contemporary art. This means that the narrative strategies, formal devices and content of this film place it as a major influence in literature, theory, theater and the visual arts. Quite simply this was a major breakthrough for feminist filmmaking (A major breakthrough for filmmaking period). The great Delphine Seyrig plays a woman (mostly silently) going about her daily tasks. And through penetrating observation we begin to realize the utter frustration and oppression of her life. The film is a thrilling, painful, existential document that really gives validation and agency to the struggle of women against the visible and invisible hands of patriarchy

The title-character Jeanne Dielman is a widow in her early forties, played by the unforgettable and very untimely passed Delphine Seyrig, with an almost grown-up sun. Her life follows that structure of time which people impose in order to cover their emptiness. The days of one specific week follow exactly the same pattern as every week. She basically gets up, prepares breakfast, cleans the shoes of her son, spends a bit time before preparing her own frugal midday-bread, looks for knitting utensils in the afternoon, before she starts her big cooking of the day, again for her son. Then they listen radio, make a short walk, come home again and go to bed. This son seems not think that it is necessary to say good-day, to ask his mother how she is doing, to tell her if he likes what she cooks. Even this one time, when she discloses him that she used less water for the sauce of the ragout, he just stays quiet. But he, too, seems to follow the same pattern: His mother asks him every single time not to read while he is eating - he just does it again during the next dinner. She does not even raise her voice: Although every day is a perfect mirror image of the last and of the next, she seems to conceive it every time as new. She has to, since she is completely isolated from society, even from her own son.

In the afternoons, however, she earns her money by selling her sexuality to regular customers who seem to visit her once a week. The earned money she puts into a big porcelain pot on a table. The time seems to have stopped in her apartment: Although the house looks like from about 1900, the apartment shows all typical style characteristics of the 50ies, and so does her way of clothing. She obviously became once a part of her apartment. Since the movie does not tell us if Mrs. Dielman gets a widow-rent from her deceased husband, we must assume that selling her body is her way of making a living. She does not enjoy her sexuality, she does it with exactly the same mechanical accuracy as she opens every morning a little closet underneath the sink, previously stocked with old newspapers, grasps a few sheets, puts them precisely in the middle of the little kitchen-table, waxes the shoes, etc. Not only the time has stood still 20 years before the time of the movie, also the structures have been frozen, the sense is gone. Repetition kills the emergency of innovation and abolishes the rest of sense in mechanical processes. However, a human deprived from his senses can possibly better stand a life that also has stopped long ago.

Few films can actually claim originality: some early on may have pioneered techniques or acting styles, but as has been said before and again there are only so few stories to tell. It's the variation that counts, and as a variation on the 'everyday grind' as it were, Jeanne Dielman is one of the most original breakthrough films one could experience. It's three and a half hours of, as one might say, nothing "happening". The story is the woman, what she does, the ritual of her given tasks in silence, loneliness, a widowed mother who cooks, cleans, shops, eats, sleeps, bathes, and wits without a seeming challenging thought to perceive.

You will know within fifteen minutes if you can stick with it. Ideally one wont watch this right before bedtime, but Chantal Akerman makes sure that her audience is tuned in to her experiment (or not, as some have noted). I imagine she would even be fine if some stop watching early on or walk out. She's making a provocation by her method of timing. For those who do stick around, she knows she'll give a true "action" movie. It's the antithesis of Hollywood action fare. For example, the average shot-length for a Hollywood blockbuster is about four or five seconds tops. Here, it's roughly four minutes. Per shot. If you ever wondered, just once, if a filmmaker could put an intense amount of focus and patience on a woman making coffee or washing the dishes, or taking a (very un-erotic) bath, or staring at space, look no further.

But Akerman, in tracking Jeanne (perfectly sedate and blank-faced and mechanical Delphine Seyrig) in her three days of time in the film, is not simply making a decision totally alienate her audience. Every action here, every little chore or quiet dinner or knitting serves a purpose for this narrative. When we experience ritual and seemingly simple tasks of work around the house or chores, in real time, the underlying problem is revealed. There is obsession, a mechanical way about doing the same thing over and over, which also goes over into Jeanne's casual afternoon prostitution gigs.

What it reveals, I think, is a character like Jeanne's ultimate lack of free will and character which, by proxy, Akerman means to say is a problem among many women who have nothing but housework and kid(s). That the camera never, not once, moves by way of a pan or tilt or zoom-in or tracking shot or whatever (or, for that matter, a close- up) adds to the static imprisonment of it all. The final primal act is, in fact, a kind of desperate but real act towards a change, something out of the same grind of the usual.

Akerman's direction is unrelenting and sparse, and could be considered a pre-Dogme 95 film if not for the (artificial?) lighting from outside into the apartment at night. It's less a slice of life than a scalding hit pie that you watch cool off in real-time on the counter. Some may be deterred by the length, or the arguable disdain for dialog except for a few key scenes (reading the letter and telling a brief back- story on Jeanne's marriage, by the way both done as ritualistic and blank as cleaning dishes). For me, the lack of easy melodrama or conflict actually upped the stakes. I cared about Jeanne, despite her existential trap, that she might break out of the static world of daily action and minutia. It's a staggering piece of work by a young, courageous artist with something to say, in a take-it-or-leave-it approach.