Eine ganze Nacht

Akerman here show 50-odd stories, but only picks the most melodramatic moment in each story, moments of meeting, parting, longing, and despair. The film is brilliantly filmed, using a still camera for the most part. There are twenty-three camera movements, all but one simple pans and tilts. The film is funny and intellectually satisfying. Viewers need to give it a chance, for it does not announce its intentions, and those accustomed to the usual narrative will find it difficult to get into the film. It is, however, well worth the effort. A very great film indeed.

A flirtatious series of near character studies. Scene by scene, we are given what might be the parts of a larger romance, or maybe highlights from a variety of comic romance films. Unlike more narrative explorations, few of the scenes get past the "discovery" moment -- introducing the tension -- as if "finishing" the scene, releasing the tension, would be robbing the characters of their right to resolve the situation on their own. In other words, the tension is not there to embarrass people into action; tension is an unavoidable, and funny, part of life, all by itself.

Though we get few good looks at any particular situation, the humor and the sense of anticipation at the start convinced me to stay when the scenes began to explore more static relationships and more durable parts of love.

Also, this film is more like a book than a movie. Imagine how silly it'd be for a bunch of people to make some popcorn, open some beers and sit down and read a book together and that's kind of how seeing this movie might be. But it's a good book!

Chantal Akerman's movies can be disconcerting: she is on the one hand a highly sensual filmmaker, with a great interest in textures and surfaces, and on the other hand, she can be highly conceptual. This combination can result in films which are enticingly seductive, or it can result in films which are abruptly alienating.

Of all her films, TOUTE UNE NUIT is one of the most seductive. Set during one night, it's a series of vignettes, some no more than a glimpse of a few seconds, of people at night. People sitting in bars near closing time. People sitting at home, waiting. People walking at night. The sense of anticipation, of yearning, becomes palpable.

Some vignettes are longer, but all these stories are fragmented: we're not given a real beginning, though we are given a few endings. There is no real dialogue: we just see a few gestures, a little action, but that's all.

People alone in a bar, then noticing each other. Will they make some sort of contact? A little girl packing her little suitcase: is she running away? Where? It's like we're given the bits and pieces of a larger narrative, but we have to decide what these bits and pieces mean. And then there are those encounters. Someone waiting alone in an apartment, when another person finally arrives. Two people running into each other on the street. All the meetings, often culminating in a kiss, seem to distill the most intense romantic desires.

We want these strangers to find a way not to be alone, and that desire on our part creates a tension which is tactile and erotic. Of course, Akerman has populated her night world with highly attractive people, so we are in a fantasy world of desire. TOUTE UNE NUIT is one of the most romantic movies that i've ever seen; it's funny that Akerman's most famous movie, JEANNE DIELMAN, is a long movie composed of very lengthy takes, while this movie is relatively short, with sharply edited, staccato little scenes. TOUTE UNE NUIT is almost the antithesis of JEANNE DIELMAN, but it shows Akerman in a romantic mood which is filled with yearning, desire and affection.

Toute une nuit (1982) ("All Night Long") was written and directed by Chantal Akerman. Akerman is one of my favorite directors, but she's not at her best in this film.

The basic plot is a series of pairings that take place during a warm night in Brussels. Some of the characters live in the same building, but I don't think any couple interacts with any other couple in the movie.

The film is dark, and the couples are not highly attractive. I have to admit that the action didn't fly by--it was a long 80 minutes.

On the other hand, Akerman has the courage to stay with a scene when other directors would cut away. Better still, she often continues the scene when the principal actors have left the frame. It's only then that the viewer discovers the characters that have been literally and figuratively in the background. Their stories might be as interesting as the stories we are following. Maybe they'll be in Akerman's next film. Maybe she's already made that film, and I just don't know it.

According to Cognitive Relativism and Radical Constructivism, objects do not exist outside of our perception. According to these metaphysical theories, we therefore create the world by aid of our senses, the same world that we perceive, according to Trancendentalism, because it has its own reality independent of our perception. In a world that follows the lines of Cognitive Realism, everything is sign, the world is no longer divided in presenting objects on the one side and representing signs on the other side: We can only perceive signs – the world is a pure semiotic one. In such a solipsist world, there is no real distinction between outside and inside, because the semiotic cosmos is closed by the capability of our perception. Cognitive Relativism thus explains satisfactorily, why we can imagine "unreal" objects like dragons, mermaids or unicorns (although perhaps nobody ever has seen them in the "real" world): They are created by our senses, they are – as signs – no more and no less "real" than trees, beer glasses or cars.

The relativism of the outside and inside is the basic topic of Chantal Akerman's movie "Toute une nuit": The director presents in 23 fragments couples whose relationships are centered outside or inside of doors and windows. According to Gaston Bachelard, the door is "the cosmos of half-openness": Doors can be open or closed, they mark the difference between outside and inside, and between are the thresholds. But doors normally do not have transparency, windows, however, do: they can be closed, but one can watch from the inside to the outside or vice versa. In abolishing the transparency by closing the curtains, they turn into doors. From this standpoint, mirrors cheat on windows, because they are not transparent.

In concentrating on the little spaces outside or inside of doors, we see only fragments of the lives of these couples: The half-openness does not let us decide which are the reasons of their separating, their being together or their reconciling: this decisions, too, stay half-open. But this movie does not only show fragments, it is a fragment of fragments itself, hence auto-logical. And this auto-logy goes along with the semiotic character of solipsist relativism: There are only certain types of signs, in which all reality can be coded, therefore, signs survive the reality (as perceived by our senses) only with loss of parts of quality. Signs are thus fragments of reality, which is thinned by our perception. Famous names of French philosophy such as Jacques Lacan, Julia Kristeva, Luce Irigaray, Bruno Latour, Jean Baudrillard, Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari and Paul Virilio are the fathers and mothers of the metaphysical background of "Toute une nuit" – a film which is therefore one of these movies that are not made for everybody.

The fore-mentioned Paul Virilio delivered also the theoretical background of the high-speed with which Chantal Akerman presents her fragments: Since signs are the remainders of quality that can be perceived after having been filtered from reality by our perception, the quantitative aspects are passing the qualitative ones. But this is good so: Franz Kafka wrote that everybody who would be capable of perceiving everything, would be dead instantly. The quantity of speed induced by our senses, the loss of quality induced by signs and the consolation given us by Cognitive Relativism that there are no menacing objects independent (and thus outside of control) of our senses turn out to be life-preserving.

But the most important question that arises is: What, if this fragmentary character of our life is only introduced by Aristotelian logic, in which there is only space for one subject – an "I" or a "thou", but not for both? In this case, Aristotelian logic must be replaced by a multi-valued logic which can take care of the disturbing fact that a "thou" is a "I" and thus a subject from its own standpoint, but an object from the standpoint of any other "I": The borders between subject and object are getting fluid, and thus contradict Aristotelian logic. Could it thus be that life is only fragmentary because all our activities are based on a fragmentary logic?