Chantal Akerman’s 1975 “Jeanne Dielman”

There is no other film quite like Chantal Akerman’s (b.1950-2015) Jeanne Dielman. It has continued to inspire filmmakers of slow observational cinema 50 years after its release. In 2022, the British Film Institute hailed it as The Greatest Film of All Time. It was an enormous feat not just for a female director, but also for an experimental film, especially one with such a long duration. The film is a staple of feminist liberation, featuring a nearly all-female crew, and continues to resonate as a quiet exploration into the complexities of the female experience.

The film follows Dielman (Delphine Seyrig), a single working-class widow living with her son, as she completes her daily chores and errands, including sex work. The latter we do not see directly, only the exchange that happens before and after. If you are what you do, Dielman is a precise, efficient, and careful woman. Although methodical and frugal, she seems to find a quiet joy within the control of her simple landscape. As the camera leaves no rock unturned in its observational prowess, the film takes a turn once Deilman’s obsessive attention to detail begins to unravel slowly over the course of three days. When there is a gap in her routine, she is suddenly given time to reflect, and something from her unconscious begins to violently surface.

As the viewer, we are subjected to Dielman’s routine, marking the invisible labor of an everyday housewife. Akerman resists all narrative predictability and instead relies on the use of long takes and fixed camera shots to reveal how her sexuality is repressed behind the curtain of her controlled lifestyle. With sparse dialogue and narrative structure, the viewer must interpret what suddenly sparks the undoing of her perfect routine. Silence equates to the oft voiceless nature of the oppressed. As a result of the silence, the film relies on Seyrig’s repetitive gestures in her quiet and stunning performance. By giving time and space to such acts, Akerman gives life and care to the undervalued labor of domestic housework. By watching in real time what transpires within her world, the viewer becomes invested in her lived experience. Dielman continues to hold space and time as an object of feminine resistance in a cinematic world that is still largely male-dominated.

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Joseph Losey’s 1963 “The Servant”

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Hiroshi Teshigahara’s 1964 “Woman in the Dunes”