My Second Favorite Movie

Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles is considered to be the seminal feminist film of the 1970s. Made in 1975 its story spans three days in the life of widow Jeanne Dielman. Not a movie to see if you are in a hurry. It's nearly three and a half hours of a woman doing mundane chores, washing a dinner plate, scrubbing the tub. It requires serious commitment to realize the pleasure derived from the immensity of the story. Or it will simply be odd and dull, sheer boredom will drive you distraction. You'll want to drink poison.

Netflix told me I would love this movie which always means Paul will loathe and despise it. Well, I have to give him credit for sticking with it through Jeanne's second perfectly ordered day.

Middle-aged Jeanne wears sensible shoes, skirt and cardigan as she goes through her ritual housekeeping, preparing meals, running errands and turning a daily trick in her bedroom. These encounters take place behind the closed door of her bedroom consuming the space of time it requires her evening meal to cook to completion. The johns leave, she airs out her room, bathes, fixes her hair then greets her adolescent son as he arrives from school.

Her utterly empty life begins to unravel on the third day. She overcooks the potatoes. We sat up in alarm. Her timing was off? She miscalculated her session with that uncomfortably unattractive middle aged john? Whatever it was, the director had set us up, sucked us into Jeanne's static life. When her routine changed, in even the slightest way, we felt the emotional force of lets say, witnessing your dog being run over by a pick up truck traveling 60 mph and watching as pieces of pooch fly hither and yon.

The director, Chantal Akerman, maybe 25ish, when she made this film uses extended takes, like Jeanne will sit five-seven minutes and just be. So still. So quiet. I paused the DVD to go take a leak, came back, hit play and hit play and hit play. I couldn't tell for three minutes if the actress was moving let alone breathing. Rather than shooting a reversal shot to be edited into a more traditional and comfortable exposition, the camera waits for the actress to turn around after finishing a domestic chore. We look at her backside for as longs as it takes anybody to wash dishes.

Akerman also removes drama from emotional intrusions. Hence peeling the potatoes, for the second time in a day because the first batch was ruined--well ruined for that meal. She could have made mashed but that was on the menu for day three. (I said well ordered, didn't I?) Trying to figure out where to dispose of her disaster, carrying the pot of potatoes from room to room my heart rate escalated, like tachycardia fast, I said to Paul, "This isn't good." He agreed.

We extrapolated impending doom from a scene that was literally nothing but Jeanne dealing with a carb. Nothing was said. There was no musical score. The lighting on the flocked wallpaper wasn't adjusted to manipulate our feelings.



Day three went rapidly downhill. I couldn't tear myself away from the screen. It was nearly one in the morning, Paul went to bed. When I went to take that aforementioned leak, Paul inquired after Jeanne. I told him she just made a meatloaf, one of the most harrowing scenes I've ever experienced in a movie.

After a long, very long afternoon searching unsuccessfully high and low for a button for her son's blazer, the day descends into total chaos. The astonishing conclusion is still bugging me. Let's say the meatloaf would not be served that evening. The final scene, a seven minute shot of Jeanne sitting at her dining table, blood on her hand, simply there, being, the neon light outside her apartment window blinking on off. The movie ends abruptly.

I am going to watch this again. I liked the sensation of being lulled into Jeanne's daily routine, its looks and sounds, ordinary things and people in an unsettling and precise clarity. I will never ever be able to make a pot of coffee again without thinking about this movie.

It was a particularly satisfying way to spend a Saturday evening too. It required a little bit of work with a huge payback. I'm still thinking about the movie and enjoying that. My brain does still work and can handle weightier topics than Glee has to offer which reminds me I'm going through one major Glee withdrawal. Apple. Drizzle.