Briefe von zu Haus

Following the epic JEANNE DIELMAN Akerman has relocated from old Europe to the very heart of the new world,in other words New York City.She has also made a much shorter film and one without a star,in fact without any stars at all.The images of New York,its streets,subways and buildings ,lovingly shot by camera-person Babette Mangolte,act as counterpoint to the soundtrack,not just the monotonous sounds of everyday life but the sound of the director's voice reading the letters written to her by her mother in Belgium. Akerman left home when she was twenty without telling her parents and this film records the sights and sounds of the strange city she found herself in,her alienation reinforced by the news her mother related from a distant continent.At once a film about America,urban life,loneliness,the place of the spectator,the film is incredibly sensual,a mosaic of images,colours,sounds.

Sometimes the most simple and unlikely of ideas are among the best. At first glance this doesn't sound like much, or at least not the type of picture one would customarily flock to: long shots of various locations in New York, accompanied by voiceovers. Yet there's a deep, gratifying elegance and heartfelt sincerity in this that's unmistakable. Straightforward as the lengthy and mostly unmoving shots are, there's an artistry to Babette Mangolte's cinematography that's entrancing, as this very particular perspective on the Big Apple makes it feel fresh and new, almost like a series of paintings. The imagery of urban sights is unexpectedly beautiful, whether of its own accord or thanks to Mangolte's keen eye, in a way that we tend not to see (or allow ourselves to see) on a day to day basis. And that's before we even consider one of the chief truths of this documentary - that as much as anything else it's a snapshot of New York in the 1970s, and moreover a kind of time capsule. Perhaps some of the structures, facades, and infrastructure remain the same, perhaps not, but between the vehicles or people who cross in front of the camera and their clothes, the shops and ads that greet our eyes, and in some measure even the ambient sounds to greet our ears, we're getting a glimpse of a specific place at a specific time, and it's a minor joy on that basis alone. One is naturally reminded of Agnès Varda's 'Daguerréotypes,' incidentally also released in 1976, and for as enchanting as that was it's a very high compliment indeed.

Then there's the other core element of 'News from home,' the voiceovers of filmmaker Chantal Akerman. As she reads letters that she had received from her mother we also get a small taste of life in Belgium at the time, and especially of the friends, family, and neighbors that Akerman herself had known. More than that - as the letters date to the period when Akerman had lived in New York, often traversing these very streets and subway lines, we are party in some measure to the relationship between her and her mother. The title becomes not just a moment captured in time of the city, but a reflection on a parent's love for their child, of wistfully missing someone who is far away, and in the very least of thinking of Home when we've gone far afield. (Or perhaps, too, a peek at the unspoken disparity between the perspectives of parent and child.) Thus is an air of fond remembrance infused into the presentation, a gentle warmth that couples neatly with the nostalgia of writing letters and the audiovisual visitations to this one time and place. The result is plainly lovely, bewitching, and even heartwarming to some degree. Why, there's almost a sense of whimsy to it all; one can readily imagine a work of fantasy or science fiction that adopts the same tack, showing us a distant world or landscape while letters from home provide a kernel of living, breathing story, whether it's a fragment of narrative or, as in this case, soft emotional context. That such feelings can be evoked by these eighty-eight minutes speaks very well to the power of cinema generally and, here, to the underappreciated genius of Akerman as a filmmaker.

I'll be honest: I love this. Plainspoken as any one-line synopsis is I didn't truly know what to anticipate, but in no time at all after I sat to watch I came to adore it. Many are the movies that have been made about someone moving to The Big City, and missing home, and all the goings-on or misadventures they might get up to in that scenario, but such fare is always embellished for effect, whether comedic or dramatic. Inasmuch as there could be a comparison to such fictional works 'News from home' is much the same concept, except it's perfectly Real and Authentic, and stirs the viewer's thoughts and feelings with that genuineness alone. Outwardly unsophisticated as the craft may be, the skill, intelligence, and care that went into it is indisputable, and the end product speaks for itself. This film is a pleasure. I vaguely assumed I'd appreciate it just for Akerman's involvement alone, and still I'm so very happy with how excellent it really is. By all means I can understand how this won't appeal to all, though as far as that goes the premise should be all the fair warning needed to turn away those who aren't receptive. Yet for viewers who enjoy the quiet, thoughtful side of the medium, or those who find joy in the mundane, I can't overstate what a great treasure this is. 'News from home' is a sublime picture that strikes a rather unique but meaningful chord, and I'm glad to give it my very high, hearty recommendation.

Belgian filmmaker Chantal Akerman reads letters from her mother with her concerns about the twenty one year old in the big strange city. The visual is Chantal recording the everyday lives of regular people in the city which is almost a reply to her mother. It is experimental for its time and very fascinating. As a piece of nostalgia, it is fascinating to see 70's New York in an everyday setting. There is no character or plot or flashiness. It's simple street level observational filmmaking. Even as a travelogue, it's a little interesting.

This is a seminal work by Akerman that re-examines the relationship between camera and voice - the documented and the personal, expressing the spirit of mid 1970s New York.

Chantal Akerman is arguably the most important and interesting female director of her era, yet she is sadly under-known here in the U.S. The range of her work is astounding, from largely experimental 'difficult' works like this, to frothy musical-comedy, to dark, thoughtful dramas, and just about everything in between. I'm so glad Criterion is finally putting out much of her early work.

As for this film, it's an interesting experiment, if far from Akerman's most important.

It's all images of New York City, mostly still at first, with ever more movement as it goes along. The soundtrack is all letters to Ackerman from her mother in France being read aloud over the images. Odd as it sounds, it easily held my attention, though never really got emotionally involving. Once again, Akerman's city images are great, evoking Edward Hopper's paintings. But both the images and overall impact seem less powerful to me than Akerman's somewhat similar - and to my taste far better -- 'Hotel Monterey'.

However with this kind of experimental film, everyone is likely to react differently, and I'd urge you to see it for yourself.