Les rendez-vous d'Anna

My first impression on The Meetings of Anna was that Lost in Translation directed by a gloomy Wes Anderson. This is my first Akerman, so I didn't know what to expect from this. The more I think about it it feels like this is the kind of film that grows on you as time passes. The loneliness of Anna all the while everyone she meets is opening up to her although she always seeming distant was quite relatable. There are so many choices that life offers you, but you are confused and miserable so that you reject all that and yearns for something you don't know yet or something you are denying. I saw it a couple of days ago but it has a deeper impression on me now since it has been in my head for these days.

Les rendez-vous d'Anna (1978) was written and directed by Chantal Akerman.

Aurore Clément stars as Anna Silver, a movie director who is traveling through Europe to promote the opening of her latest film.

First, we have to establish the fact that Clément is tall and elegant, and looks like a model. There's no rule that movie directors can't be attractive, so that works in the film.

However, directors tend to make things happen. They are forceful, because they have to be. This is doubly true for women directors. Anna Silver is aloof, distant, and appears to drift from one city to the next without connecting with anyone else.

Second, Chantal Akerman has her own style, and either you accept it or you don't. The trip by train from Cologne to Brussels is 3 1/2 hours long. Anna is bored, and we're bored during the trip. Akerman doesn't care--she shows us the train trip for a long time.

At one point Anna has to leave her hotel in Paris to find an all-night pharmacy. It's not a true emergency--she just needs some medication for a friend. Any other director would show the protagonist leaving the hotel, entering and leaving the pharmacy, and returning to the hotel. Not Akerman. We follow the taxi driving through the dark wet streets of Paris for at least ten minutes. Then Anna gets the medication and goes back to the hotel.

I respect Akerman as a director, and enjoy watching her movies. However, I have to admit that her filmmaking is an acquired taste.

This movie worked well on the small screen. It came as part of Criterion series 19--Chantal Akerman in the Seventies.

The film has a solid IMDb rating of 7.4. I agreed, and rated it 7.

P.S. Look for the Italian actor Lea Masari in a small supporting role as Anna's mother. Masari was only 45 when she played the role. She looked more like Anna's sister.

I try to not watch the news if I can help it; it plays out like a bad movie, and what bad movies do is they narrow the view. I want to be able to see how things move and how they come to be a certain way in their tide, not their surf. When I do watch the news, like the other week with what happened at Brussels, I'm dismayed at what a frightful place the world can be when gripped by senseless violence and anxious views.

But then unexpectedly the same night I discover a film like this that restores everything back to its original dimensions, the world becomes vast and empty again. Watching it I am reminded that sweet, alert souls are out there who quietly live and create, make sense they give back to us that negates ignorance and need, affirms the simplicity of just being.

It's not in any thing it says one way or another, it has no words of wisdom. It's in how we pass through things, how we observe the passing. It's a process of emptying out so that what remains, hopefully, is the larger, sentient view that regards itself in all these things.

A woman is taking the night train home, it's as simple as this, one of those films where 'nothing happens'. She's a director who was in Berlin to show her movie, a surrogate for Akerman herself. The whole has the intimate tone of moments that were lived through and committed to memory.

The story, what little of it there is, is only here as a way of gathering observations. It's so we can make a few stops on the way home. A man in Berlin whose wife left him and is unsure about what's next, eager to cling to her. Elsewhere she meets an acquaintance from back home who urges her to get married, that she's not getting any younger. The train pulls up at Brussels, she's reunited with her mother for one night and then she's off again.

Eventually there's a lover waiting to pick her up in Paris but even the night they share in a nondescript room offers no haven; he has to be up in a few hours to go to work, she will leave again, transient arrangements for the night. In a marvelous instance she lays naked on top of him but he begins to hurt and she has to go out in a taxi in search of a drugstore.

So 'nothing happens'; I say everything does. You could shape each encounter into its own film with its own drama, here it is all distilled to a few exchanges. The woman listens without judgment or advice, they say what's on their mind, then they part again, anxieties dispersing. She's not unaffected herself, we note, but she moves without need.

It's all simple here, simple in the Japanese Buddhist sense that recognizes the transience of things without suffering, the suffering without attachment, emptiness where not a single thing is redundant or missing. A different thing from just modern lack. Buddhism isn't about renouncing reality as often misconstrued, it's about renouncing ego and craving so that you are free to return; not about resting above suffering but resting in the middle of it.

It's all here. No elephant art for this woman, no grandiose meaning, and yet it's all here in the sketches of the transient world, the meaning all in how we see with an eye that is coming back to the beginning.

Something to meditate upon.

Long, unmoving, precise and artistic shots; substantial quiet, and no music; dialogue ranging from unnaturally verbose and explanatory or direct to mundanely matter-of-fact and plainspoken; scene writing that joins the dialogue in being curiously dry and detached, at once personal and detached; performances as low-key as the overall tone is subdued: this is definitely a Chantal Akerman picture. Certainly she's not the only filmmaker to have employed such a style, and indeed at various points one recognizes tinges of comparable styles of other filmmakers. Yet as if her celebrated 'Jeanne Dielman' in 1975 hadn't cemented her panache for minimalist but masterful movie-making, and her penchant for hushed, idiosyncratically understated storytelling, this 1978 feature aptly accentuates these notions while trying a few slightly different ideas. For all this, I can understand how the title won't appeal to all comers, above all since on the surface there is very little happening over these two hours. Yet if one watches and listens attentively, as with Akerman's other works there are substantial, substantive depths that become more evident and more flavorful over time. 'Les rendez-vous d'Anna' is perhaps an acquired taste, but for those ready and willing to actively engage, it's a softly striking, rewarding viewing experience that's well worth exploring.

Akerman is a filmmaker whose tremendous skill and success lies in her absolute grasp of and proficiency in subtlety. All those outward qualities, that to the uninitiated or unprepared may come off as awkward or lacking, are part and parcel of a grand if decidedly underhanded vision. Thoughts broached in the dialogue - specifically as to personal relationships or musings on Europe in the aftermath of World War II - are obliquely echoed and amplified in the fundamental construction of the movie; for Akerman storytelling and film-making are emphatically one and the same, and that is proven again here just as surely as it was three years prior. Themes of loneliness, isolation, dispassionate malaise, and social and psychological struggles with communication, and a broad sense of undefinable hardship, are reflected in how characters are arranged in a scene, and where they face, especially as they talk to each other or touch; the camera may pointedly center only a single character for most if not all of a conversation, even when their scene partner is speaking. The themes are reflected in the transient nature of scenes, and the limited time that characters have on-screen with protagonist Anna; in passing sights of largely empty settings; in the almost completely static, stationary cinematography, that subsequently evokes a feeling of disconnected solitude. Even the relative noiselessness, and the restrained acting, lend to airs of separation, and being apart, and intangible distance. All this, to say nothing of the particulars of the writing in every regard.

And despite the overarching tenor, let there be no doubt that 'Les rendez-vous d'Anna' is superbly crafted, with capability, care, and passion belying all that the title portends. "Excellence" is the word of the day across the board when it comes to filming locations, production design and art direction, costume design, hair and makeup, and sound design. Muted as Jean Penzer's photography is, it's deftly calculated and smartly executed; Francine Sandberg's editing comes off as comparatively relaxed, yet is obviously characterized by no less intelligence. Even with the feature's tack being what it is, the abilities of the cast unquestionably shine through with admirable, controlled nuance and range, impressing all the more for consideration of that self-discipline. Naturally star Aurore Clément stands out most as protagonist Anna, but those in supporting parts are just as terrific, not least Lea Massari and Jean-Pierre Cassel.; what the actors are able to achieve under these conditions is kind of incredible. Above all, Akelman's gentle but meticulous direction and her wonderfully sharp writing are both frankly outstanding, a stupendous delight as a viewer both for how much significant thought was poured into them individually, and for the complexity with which they are interconnected. Not to again draw comparison, but as with 'Jeanne Dielman,' Akerman shows such a mind for shot composition and intricacy in conjuring and realizing scenes that it almost feels as though she had mapped out the entirety of the runtime down to the second.

Once more, I totally get how this won't sit well with all audiences. Akerman operates with such a majorly delicate hand in every capacity that one must most assuredly be receptive to such fare or else the entirety will come across as a whole lot of nothing. For those who are willing to put in a bit of work themselves to get the most out of movies, however, the profit to be had here is exceptional. 'Les rendez-vous d'Anna' is rich, absorbing, satisfying, rewarding - and maybe even a tad haunting in the ideas at play. Though best suggested for what is no doubt a relatively niche audience, as far as I'm concerned this earns a very high, hearty recommendation, and it's well worth seeking out if one has the chance. Well done!

Was a time when topics like bisexuality, biological clocks, loneliness, female identity, or diversity in filmmaking were cutting-edge stuff. Clearly that was a long time ago, and when you ignore those worn-out taboos and take a really hard look at this movie it's just a really boring travelogue. Call it Lenny Bruce syndrome. I guess you had to be there to get it.

The film hinges on a single character, and I didn't find her remotely interesting. We don't know much about her other than she is lonely. We don't know about her politics, her art, her opinions on anything, her flaws, her appeal...there's nothing to the character. She's a bland ice queen that attracts a multitude of people without trying, a super competent character who doesn't face any struggle, a supposedly internationally famous artist who doesn't seem very good at communicating with other people or has anything insightful to say. Why should I care about this person?

Unfortunately this film suffers from the lingering influence of Antonioni and others from sixties art-house cinema where the camera lingers ten minutes on literally nothing, because evidently five minutes of nothing was insufficient to build the mood of ennui. The same exact mood that the other 150 minutes creates in the same way.