Ich, du, er, sie

I have to be honest, this was a damn tedious film. It may have been trying to communicate depression, the banality of real, unromanticized sex, or the banality of existence in general. It may have been trying to communicate a progression from loneliness, to meaningless sex with a man, to true passion with another woman. I don't know, but regardless, it does so in such a sterile, painfully slow way that it was tough for me to stay interested after the first 15 minutes, and it never got better. I'm all for the groundbreaking nature of putting a long lesbian sex scene on the screen in 1974 (especially the way it was shot), but mostly I just felt bored and manipulated by pretentiousness. Maybe this would have worked for me as a 15 minute short, but as it is, it was a real chore to finish.

Not quite sure what this is supposed to be or mean. Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those who strive after meaning, allegories and new dimensions or need such things to get involved in a great film. Sadly Je, tu, il, elle did not strike me as a great film.

As a fan of long static shots I might not have had as big trouble as some others seems to have had. But the beauty of the imagery was minimal. And the lesbian love scene in contrast less grey felt not only dead but entirely inhuman and distant.

The 30 minute opening act was though it's many attempt of humor more or less dull. Her inner dialog struck me as somewhat silly rather than funny, interesting and deep. My interest grew during the second act, which is more dialog driven than the first and the last.

If anything this is a revolt against form. And I can in some sense appreciate it for this. Anything new or different will obviously create some interest and start some sparks. But Akerman did not manage to bring me in with this one.

Having been interested in avant-garde cinema for about 50 years, I could see myself with my friends back in college, parsing something like this. This was the time of an eight hour film of a man sleeping. Every hour or so he would turn over or readjust his pillow. I suppose this lays a foundation for a filmmaker to eventually break from this into something with some sense. This film about a girl who spends a week eating powdered sugar, painting her apartment, and moving her mattress around probably does something for someone. She also poses in the nude, inviting voyeurism, which, I suppose we can only guess at. The other two thirds of the film, a meeting with a blue collar worker to watch a gangster movie, and a lesbian love scene, hang on for what seems like hours. Anyway, I haven't anything to contribute other than the final love scene reminded me of a film about insects, where a wasp struggles with an insect of equal size, grasps him and stings him until he is dead. There is endless convulsing, short moments of relaxation and exhaustion, and, finally, the coup de grace.

Some use film-making as a tool to reflect themselves and search their identities. With her first important feature, Je, tu, il, elle, Chantal Akerman relays this tradition, which has been established and inherited mostly by generations of female filmmakers, from Maya Deren to Rose Troche and Jennie Livingston. Like Deren, Akerman combines a traditional narrative and surrealistic ingredients, but Akerman's surrealism is more true-to-life than Deren's, as seen in a sugar-only diet of "Je" or a wrestling-like foreplay between "Je" and "Elle." Painfully naked honesty in these scenes shows how seriously Akerman is in need of examining her identity and sexuality.

(The surface of the film extremely resembles Stranger Than Paradise by Jim Jarmusch, completed in 1983; the two films share the three-episode plot and the B/W medium shots by the fixed camera without panning/tilting/dollying. But this may be irrelevant for viewing this Akerman film.)

The first part I could "see" what was going on, and I can get into video still frames of sort. These fade-outs were slow in a way that was awkward, then felt deliberate and meaningful and restful, then felt flatly back into awkward before scene cutout.

The second third of the movie was good. Still scenescapes, but less of a bathtub story, and some character development for both. The dialogue/monologue was good. The sexuality of it was awkward and one sided-very meaningful for this portion of the story. All three stars are for this part.

The last third was meh. There wasn't a spark between them, only for mischievousness. As a lesbian, I'm also confused by the extended sex scene. I think human intimacy can be beautiful, but here we see...loving wrestling? I think they were trying to allude to tribbing. It failed.