I certainly ire the ambition and scope of this, but it's a noble misfire. The music is tedious, forgettable and feels awkwardly shoehorned into the film to make it more unique. Dialogue is clunky and the pacing at 149 minutes is a serious drag. Nevertheless, I love the art direction, and I hope Oppenheimer makes more narrative films.
The reason I have fallen so madly in love with Chantal Akerman's work is the unparalleled understanding and empathy with which she handles mental illness, loneliness and malaise. There is no greater auteur of sorrow and isolation. When we meet Julie, her character in Je, tu, il, elle, she is quietly experiencing a psychotic break alone in her apartment after a breakup. She paints her walls, rewrites the same letter repeatedly, and reduces herself to eating powdered sugar for sustenance.…
