In 3D tuesday morning (with my new teacher, NOT with karen) we were instructed for homework to write down on adding machine paper (those white rolls) a list of every single ID item (in other words, ANY item EVER) we come into contact with, including repeat instances, for an entire 24 hours. This is our homework. That, or see a movie they haven't shown in NY since the 1980's (I now know there's a reason for that) and write down every item the main character touches. Three and a half hours of her life, or 24 of my own. We thought the movie was going to be a better idea, even though with cab fare and ridiculous overpriced manhattan movie fare it came to about twenty bucks. Let me just say that again... three and a half hours. The plot of the movie, which is in french (the dialogue would fit on a single sheet of paper. Double spaced. It includes such lines as "I let the potatoes cook too long. I had to throw them out. I could have made mashed potatoes but we're having that tomorrow.") and the full title of which is "Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles"), is as follows: she makes coffee. she peels potatoes. her son comes home. they eat soup. her life is dull. she flips light switches and opens and shuts doors when she enters or exits any room in her flat ever. until she starts "going crazy" which is in quotes because basically it means she forgets to shut a door or check her mail or boils the potatoes too long or any other number of completely horrendous abnormalities of which no other human is capable as long as they are sound of mind. [Sarcasm.]
Here's the official plot from the theater:
(1975) A simply dressed Delphine Seyrig (Last Year at Marienbad, Stolen Kisses) puts something on the stove in her modest apartment, then answers the doorbell to admit an older man. Wordlessly taking his hat and coat, they go to the bedroom; after a time shift represented by a light change, they reemerge, she gives him his hat and coat, he gives her money and leaves. Then she checks what’s cooking on the stove, airs out the bedroom, takes a bath, puts on her clothes, wipes out the tub. The next day, shopping, lunching out, and caring for a baby are added to the routines, plus the afternoon visitor. But on the third day, the routines are interrupted, things go slightly awry, and the shell of habit starts to crack; and when the ultimate change occurs, mortal consequences ensue. Akerman’s breakthrough feature (made when she was 25, in five weeks, for $125,000) achieves a microscopic examination of one woman’s life, and by its intensity, with mostly head-on, long take, real time visuals, and music-less and mostly dialogue-less track, forces us to see those little things in life, in a totally new way. “A Forties story shot by a Seventies camera.” – cinematographer Babette Mangolte. Color; Approx. 201 minutes 1:00, 4:40, 8:20
Did you get through all that?
Did you notice the 201 minutes???
On the movie poster it even says it's a "little noted" film. There's a reason for that. As Cody pointed out, generally you only mention how noted a movie is when the adjective in front of it is 'widely' or the like. "Little noted" is not exactly the most alluring description of a movie, especially one that's three hours long and has exactly 45 seconds of plot. Even the praise on the Film Forum (independent movie house where it's showing) is boring: "A slow-motion thriller!" "Unlike any other film you've seen!" (true, i'll give them that.) "What might have been a film as tedious as the life it depicts is a tight, engrossing and exhilarating experiment" (true, minus those last 3 adjectives... not all experiments end well) "An account of domestic habitats and the people and objects that routinely move through them" "PUTS TIME ON SCREEN AS IT NEVER WAS BEFORE!" That last one is certainly true indeed. They managed to cram what felt like three lifetimes into under four hours. Let me remind you, this film is unbearably more tedious than it even may seem just watching it as a regular movie-goer (do regular movie-goers go to movies like this??) when you have to write down every single item that she comes in contact with.
Our teacher had mentioned that there was one point of real action approximately 7 minutes from the end, for which we all waited eagerly (if 'eagerly' here has the meaning of 'with our eyes barely able to stay open'). I guessed about 10 minutes into this thing what that would be. If you want to know what it is you'll have to go see it yourself. Oh wait, that's right, it's going away forever as of today, and its probably not on DVD since no one watched it since the 60's when they made it except for a couple times in the 80's. I guess humans only have a 20-year memory span of movies that made their heads pop with boredom. Sounds about right for fashion trends too, but that's another story.
So, back to the notes. I had divided up both sides of one page in a sketchbook with boxes in which to write all the items she touches. "How many can there be," I thought, "when there's no plot?" Ohhhh was I mistaken. The 99 boxes on each page (you can't imagine how much this bugged my OCD, that i accidentally made 3 columns of 33 rows..... 198 all together with both pages. Or maybe you can [I'm looking at you, Mom].) were not even close to enough. I took six pages of "notes" (if you can call them that) which got progressively both messier and more general. "light switch" very soon turned into "L.S." and "doorknob. door. doorknob." quickly mutated into just simply "door" for obvious reasons. When you have to look down every other second to scribble down 5 objects this lady just touched, and at the same time this bitch keeps turning her lights on and off compulsively making it very hard to see what you're writing about her, it makes for a HORRIBLE way to watch a HORRIBLE movie. Here's a picture of my notes, (sorry it's dark- it's a phone photo) just for laughs (your laughs, not mine):
If you'll follow me over to the right page, in the second column from the right, about half way down it says BABY WTF. That's to represent the 10 minutes during which Jeanne struggles with lifting a giant, gurgling, cat-noise-making baby of her neighbor's who has been dropped off in what looks like a suitcase for a few minutes for an inexplicable reason. Perhaps so the mother can rest her weary arms and ears. It struck me as so hysterical and genuinely ironic that here we were, having paid for a movie of someone else dealing with issues which, under any other circumstances, are reason to send the stink-eye in the care-taker's direction (for example, oh, I don't know... in a movie theater??? If there were crying babies in any movie you went to, you'd wish horrible things on them.) Alas, the irony was so strong I actually laughed so hard I was crying. Perhaps I was merely crying. After 2 hours of solid thick-as-butter boredom, ANYTHING is funny, and you really do just want to cry.
Did I mention the whole thing is shown in real time, shot with cameras on tripods?? In other words, zero action. Half the movie is us watching her think. Pity me, for I have witnessed a heretofore unknown circle of hell. We left at 8 pm and got back around 12, and then I had design homework to finish (which luckily took me less time than I thought it would, when does that ever happen?). The guy in the deli at which Alex and I stopped afterwards to get dinner (all that food she makes in the movie, meat and potatoes and soup and stuff) thought it was hysterical, how worked up Alex was about going to see this movie and take notes (he gave up about an hour into it). Alex is very easy to piss off, which he is convinced was the sole purpose of having been assigned to do any of this in the first place. (Alex and I have similar personalities.) Oh, and the icing on the cake is that several times throughout the movie there very loud mouse noises coming from behind the piano (why? a piano? really??) we were sitting right next to down in the front rows.
Here is a picture of the ground beef she kneaded for meatloaf for maybe like, i duno, 15 minutes? Basically until Sarah, who is vegetarian, was about to puke:
Moral of the story is, even if someone pays you to go see Jeanne Whateverboringface, don't.
Now, as this is the longest blog, like, ever, and I really need to not talk about this movie anymore (you should have seen us ranting and raving the whole way home and this morning in production methods) for fear of losing what little brain matter didn't melt out my ears last night before I go as crazy as Jeanne. Good times. Jeanne Dielman, you owe me 3.5 hours of my life back.
P.S. I know, mom & dad, you think my blog is just for complaining, more than informing. But really, there's no other way to convey what happened (or rather, what didn't) last night than to include our irrationally brought about and undeserved anger and, probably, post traumatic stress disorder. And Dad, this only took me about 30 minutes to type. I know you were curious.
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