How could you know? You're not a woman.

Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles – 4/5

Man, fuck slow cinema. To the movie's discredit, I couldn't watch it but ten minute at a time. But also — those increments felt like meditation. You're not drawn into Jeanne Dielman's world so much as you succumb to it, the numb repetition of the same things over and over again. Wake up, make breakfast, shine shoes, get groceries, have sex with a stranger for money, have dinner with your son, and so on. Days blur together. The sludge of maintaining everyday life, with a touch of slight differences in each day that catch your eye. It's Highlights magazine — what's different between the scenes? Did she check the mail the day before, or is this new? Is that the same strange man as yesterday? What happened to the potatoes? What are the signs and signals of someone who needs help? Jeanne is falling, but we don't know how far, how fully, she doesn't tell us. She never reveals herself, her inner thoughts, her vulnerabilities. We don't know what she's thinking at any point in the movie, so how can we even begin to understand what she does at the end? How can we not know what's right in front of us? It's living in the same space with another person and still being surprised. How?