Hotel Monterey

It's a documentary of a cheap New York hotel where marginalized residents live. Filmmaker Chantal Akerman walks around the hotel during one night with her camera encountering various people. This is completely silent. As an experimental film, it's better than security camera footage. I'm not sure how people felt sitting through this for an hour in a theater. I saw it at home on TCM with other media going on around me. I doubt that I'm getting the same experience. By the time the old man is sitting staring at the camera for an extended time, I had to fast forward the movie at double speed.

Hotel Monterey is both literal and abstract if that makes sense; it's a series of images taken inside of a not-terrible-but-not-great middling hotel on several floors over one night (and eventually, by day-break, on the roof), and, the occasional tenant besides, shots go on at points for, well, at least a couple of times a full film magazine I'd guess (which for such a camera like Akerman had I'd say 8 to 9 minutes). So time is stretched and because it's shot M. O. S., as we day in filmmaker speak for without sound, we are left with what is almost meant to create this meditative space for us; what is a lonely space, or somewhere people are absent from? What does this absence do to us?

It's a good idea for an experiment, but I suspect this needs to be seen in an actual movie theater or not at all; at home, even on my relatively large HD TV, I can't fully lose myself in these shots of the hotel, even the ones when, eventually, she is less static and more moving the camera (even if it is at one point back and forth in the same hallway), and I can't tap into the rhythm that she's creating. The other part is the lack of any sound - I didn't necessarily need music (though something like on some very low key vibe could have added something), but if one had even the ambiance of the place, like other sounds that would be going on coming from the other apartments or who knows what in the NYC night, it would make the immersion more complete.

And of course it can be anyone's interpretation, but there's nothing really extra past the excellent compositions; it's the kind of thing that really would be more interesting for a photo book or even a series in a gallery so that someone can take their own pace to look at these interiors (and exteriors). Maybe if there's some day where I have a chance to see her experimental films like at Anthology Film Archives (which is as the liner notes tell me where Akerman got inspired when she first came to New York and immersed herself in underground and avant garde works like by Michael Snow and Mekas), I'd get a little more out of it. I'd like to say it's not a movies fault if my downstairs neighbors arguing interrupts my concentration, but in this case it kind of is.

Clearly influenced by Warhol Zeitgeist (remember it's 1972), Chantal Ackerman's Hotel Monterey is a study in empty headed documentary, eschewing key elements in favor of some provocatively mundane images and scenes that are laboriously drawn on but say next to nothing beyond the obvious. How Akerman, who had made nothing but shorts up to this point, deemed this worth cutting upward to an hour is mystifying since it's clear it is going nowhere after fifteen. But plod on she does.

Located in lower Manhattan the dark semi polished Monterey is populated by dignified if somewhat down at the heels men and women. Tidy little old ladies throw butts on the floor while glum slow moving gentlemen eye the camera suspiciously as they meet in the halls and the elevator. Some folks pose and smile others peer through a crack of the door betrayed by a shaft of light. Welcome to the Hotel Monterey.

Ackerman strives for minimalism over realism with fractured imagery and long tedious shots and slow zooms of the bleak setting omitting sound and titles. No narration, no interviews, no music score and most importantly no ambient sound which amputates both mood and impact. She simply moves about the hotel filming surface and offering no depth or insight. This may have well been her intention but I see it as a missed opportunity at a more substantive documentary that would have been more informative and interesting by involving other senses instead of self indulgent MOS camera work of tawdry hallways that are not allowed to be heard. By the time you check out of Hotel Monterey you'll probably need a good night's sleep.

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, and just about everything in between. Even if you don't respond to this film, you may well like other things she has done.

Hotel Monterey is an experimental silent 60 minute 'documentary' set in a cheap NY hotel. No story, just images that cross the sadness of Edward Hopper's paintings with the weirdness of David Lynch (who seems to have been influenced by this). It's like a great photo book come to life. It has a fascinating look (very grainy 16mm, with super rich colors). No question that by nature this feels dull in spots and some images are less powerful or repetitive, but its full of wonderful, disquieting moments, and it has a fascinating, hypnotic almost imperceptible build to a 'climax'. If nothing else, the film is worth it for the simple power of the moment when the camera starts to move after 30 minutes of still images.

Hôtel Monterey (1973) was written, produced, and directed by Chantal Akerman. It's a silent film, showing long takes of nothing much in the Hotel Monterey, 915 West 94th Street, NYC. (The hotel was a residence hotel, and but it wasn't a flophouse, as some have suggested. It still exists as a two-star hotel.)

Frederick Wiseman could have made a good documentary at the Monterey. The people there weren't rich, but they weren't down and out either. They all had their stories to tell.

However, Akerman isn't interested in their stories. She's interested in giving us long takes of the small window that lets us see the elevator going up and down. Finally, she goes up to the top floor (or the roof) to show us the streets below and the ugly buildings that surround the hotel.

This movie is part of the Eclipse Criterion Collection. (Series 19: Chantal Akerman in the Seventies.)

This film will be as good on the small screen as the large screen. Hotel Monterey has a dismal rating of 6.4. I rated it 2. I know that when you give an experimental film a rating of 2, you can look like a philistine. I'll just have to risk it.