Chantal Akerman FilmFest: Day 5

Movie: Les Rendez-vous d'Anna
Year: 1978

The Akerman FilmFest concludes with the fine "Les Rendez-vous d'Anna." Maybe the most accessible of Akerman's early films--and almost certainly the most autobiographical--the heroine of "Anna" (played by Aurore Clement in a wonderfully restrained, yet taut, performance) was once described by Akerman as "a sort of mutant ... perhaps a heroine of the future."

Much like the mother and son in "Jeanne Dielman," the enigmatic Anna is seemingly devoid of any outward emotion. It's hard to get a read on her; even when she is expresses feelings of care or concern, for example, we aren't really sure whether or not she means it. She is strange and confounding--at times she can seem like a real jerk but at other times she can seem frail, or almost wounded. Anna (like Akerman, whose middle name is Anne by the way) is a movie director and as the film opens she is on a train tour throughout Europe promoting her latest work.

Along the way, Anna meets encounters a string of relations--a couple of nearly-lovers, a stranger on a train would like to be, the mother of a man she was once engaged to and her own mother. In each of these instances, the other party engages Anna in a long monologue (it wouldn't be right to call them conversations, as Anna mostly listens). And Anna does seem like a good listener; she appears to be genuinely interested in what these people are saying (or she may just be faking, again, it's hard to tell). But either way, these people pour out their emotions to Anna, baring their innermost thoughts and feelings.

The strongest scenes are her first encounter with a lonely man named Heinrich (Helmut Griem) and with her mother (Lea Massari). The man is taken with Anna and invites her to his home to meet his five-year-old daughter. A bit awkwardly and nervously, he shares some of his past with Anna--how his wife left him, how much he likes growing flowers and how disillusioned he is with the way he perceives the direction his country, Germany, is taking. Anna listens patiently, saying nothing, joins the family for a meal and leaves Heinrich alone, just as he feared. Anna and her mother are estranged and while there is a certain deep connection, there is a distance too. Anna and her mother decide to get a hotel room for the night rather than go all the way back to the family home. It is there that we learn the most about Anna--as she recounts the details of a lesbian relationship to her mother. Back at the train station the next morning, Anna's mother says "Tell me you love me." Anna replies "I love you," with about as much emotion as if she were saying "It's cloudy." And off she goes to the next stop down the road. Anna finally makes it back to Paris where she lives. And at the end of the day, she is all alone. These other people have wanted to take her closer, to make her a greater part of their lives, but she has rejected them all to some degree. As the film closes, we see Anna on her bed, staring off into space while listening to her answer machine messages. More people wanting to get to know her; more people she will undoubtedly keep at arms length.

Like the other Akerman films I've seen, "Anna" requires great patience on the part of the viewer. It is enjoyable to look at; most of the action takes place on trains, in train stations or in hotel rooms and in that sense, we are treated to a wonderful time capsule of a world gone by. And in a thematic sense, the sterile environments, thrumming noises and clean lines contribute to the sense of alienation and distance that Anna senses. It can't be denied though that Akerman is not for everyone. She herself once said "if I have a reputation of being difficult, it’s because I love the everyday and want to present it. In general, people go to the movies precisely to escape the everyday.” Akerman is not your everyday filmmaker and hers are not everyday films. Confounding, borderline pretentious, yet riveting, gorgeous to look at and ultimately thought-provoking and admirable, Akerman's works stand apart from the crowd--and head and shoulders above many.

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