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

Not rated.  I almost don't want to write the parental guide at the beginning of this one because even mentioning anything kind of spoils the film.  Still, I kind of have to.  The first thing is that there is nudity.  Although the nudity we see is in the context of bathing as opposed to anything sexual in nature.  Still, there is sexuality and violence in the movie, which is kind of a shock if you know anything of the structure of this film.  None of the movie feels exploitative, but it doesn't change the fact that stuff happens.  

DIRECTOR:  Chantal Akerman

I did it.  I have slain one of my white whales.  (By definition, I should only have one white whale, but Jeanne Dielman has always been one of the movies that has intimidated me.) Before I get too far into this, I have a specific sin to confess.  I blew up the disc.  Literally.  When I was putting it in the player, I dropped it, giving it a small-but-noticable scratch at the end.  It still played until I reached the middle of the film.  I have my new repair kit (the same one we used at the video store) and that scratch must have been a crack because the repair kit blew up the disc.  Another one is coming in the mail.  Shhh!

I normally don't feel the need to explain a movie to people.  Most people who would read a blog about Jeanne Dielman (By the way, I'm going to just call it Jeanne Dielman instead of Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commence, 1080 Bruxelles for what should be obvious reasons.)   The reason that this movie is one of those white whales is that it is a three-hour-and-twenty minute movie where the protagonist basically just keeps her apartment tidied.  It's borderline silent.  It almost dares you to watch the movie all the way through.  When I tried explaining this to my wife, she wondered what I was doing with my life.  I talk about this movie a lot, especially when I talk about the nouvelle vague / French New Wave.  

The easy thing to get out of the way is to say that I oddly liked it.  This movie is far more complex than simply a woman keeping her apartment clean.  I mean, I'm going to forever roll my eyes at you if you put this in your Top 5 because that is an exercise in trying too hard.  But there is a narrative here.  There is a wealth of character that comes through the silence of this film.  And, to top it all off, it has a lot to say.  No, I get it.  It doesn't hurt that I live in 2026, where Instagram Reels feeds me Type-A personalities keeping their apartments spotless for my enjoyment.  I think I've been molded into being a Jeanne Dielman fan.  I was basically bred in a jar to be the ultimate fan of this movie.  I took it in hour shifts and that's exactly how this movie worked for me.  Basically, one of Jeanne's days aligned with my day.  It was lovely.

Now, Chantal Akerman made this movie as a feminist perspective on what it meant to be a woman in French culture.  I couldn't help but feel like I was watching an ant farm.  I've been trying to talk in therapy how I'm worried that most of society absolutely lacks asperation.  Jeanne might be my Exhibit A.  Jeanne has no hobbies.  She preps dinner early.  Like, watching her clean the table and set out the silverware immediately after her strangely aged child leaves for school (Honestly, I feel bad because he's either the oldest child or the youngest grown man that ever lived) makes me worried about her.  While we see elements of relaxation in days two and three (the two days that start falling apart) Jeanne does nothing really for herself.  It's not that I don't find joy in a well-kept home.  It's just that I would go insane if that was all I lived for.  The story reminds us that Jeanne was not always a single mother.  We know that she was married, although the amount of information we get about her late spouse is sorely lacking.  It kind of feels like Jeanne was always some version of this.  

Dielman has nothing to live for when it comes to herself.  She doesn't fawn over her child.  There are stories about the courage of motherhood and this is not that movie.  It's not that her kid sucks.  He's actually kind of obedient and takes after his mother.  But it almost doesn't feel like love.  It all feels like obligation.  We get some odd moments where the two talk about what seem to be heavy conversations, but with an attitude of apathy and distance between the two of them.  Everything that Jeanne does seems to be out of obligation.  That's going to lead into the heavy twist on the story that people don't talk about: the fact that Jeanne is a sex worker.  When Jeanne gets up in the morning, she makes a meal.  She shines her son's shoes.  She spends the day cleaning.  She eventually sleeps with a john (and the first few times you see this, there is soemthing almost asexual about it.  It honestly could have been a reflexology session if it wasn't for the final half hour of the movie.)   But everything is done out of a point of "This is what we do right now."  It's a movie about a shell of a person just thriving and Akerman seems to be saying that's the way that women are encouraged to live life.

The sex worker thing threw me.  I think a lot of that comes from the fact that I've never seen sex work portrayed this way on film.  Often, there is usually a weight attached to this kind of portrayal.  We've seen sex workers proud of who they are and often find themselves on the back foot defending their life choices to others.  Then we've also seen people who have been human trafficked and the misery that comes with it.  With Jeanne, we see a woman who does this activity once a day and that keeps the lights on.  She doesn't have a fulfilling life. She does what she does and continues to clean her apartment.  

It's fascinating that it was the little things that got to her more than anything else.  We see her make small mistakes.  The mistakes that Jeanne does in the course of the movie are incredibly small.  She drops the brush while shining the shoes.  The potatoes aren't ready for dinner at one point.  It's all teeny-tiny things.  But I think those teeny-tiny things are the beats that lead to the conclusion where she murders her john.  It's the foreverness of it all.  It's not that a Type A personality need to have everything perfect.  I'm sure there's an element of that somewhere in there.  But the bigger issue is that there's no purpose going on if things just get worse.  Those small mistakes are Jeanne losing control.  When there's nothing in life beyond batting a perfect game, those small mistakes are indicative of greater frustration that life has nothing to offer beyond being in control of the self.  

That murder seems to be a desperate attempt at gaining control over the uncontrollable.  It's not that she's Type A because she enjoys being Type A.  It seems to be the only influence she has over her world.  When small things disrupt that control, she has to go bigger.  It's probably why she sits alone at her dining room table, covered in blood.  She couldn't control her husband being dead.  She couldn't control the lonliness that seemed to be pervading everything. She couldn't control that massive baby from screaming bloody murder.  What she could do was stab a dude and just wait for her fate.

It's an incredible movie.  Again, I would roll my eyes at anyone who put it on their favorites list.  But it is a way more solid film than I was willing to prepare for.