Unlike most reviewers I did not see this as a movie about loneliness but a film about independence, not least the independence of Akerman herself to take wonderfully long, slow shots. The wonderfully-long train-sequences (mostly and significantly, a stopping-train from Moscow to Paris via Cologne and Brussels) are the best that I have ever seen and are rich with unusual shots and details.
I didn't feel that Aurore was traumatised or desensitised. I felt that she moved through this film rather in the way I move through my days: as an interested onlooker . I really identified with her; I was captivated. I'd say that it is one of my favourite movies, and I am going to watch it, revel in it, again tonight.
Another reviewer has pointed out how the 'meetings', rendezvous or encounters (with both men and women) are so very contrasting in terms of emotion, while flowing along (passing through railway stations) and seeming so natural.
The bleak, treeless, sub-industrial, suburban landscapes are underlined by continual background noise of traffic and railways, which starts off being intrusive. By the end of the film, however, we hardly notice it - just as city-dwellers blot it out all the time 'in real life'. Aurore makes an almost serene (or at least unreactive) journey through the physical and moral wasteland left by the second world war and re-industrialisation, the spiritual bleakness of consumerism.
The final sequence is a radio-play of answering-machine messages which show that this very independent, creative woman is little more than a cog in a relentless social machine.
As a comment on inner experience seen as outer life, it is as good as Samuel Beckett - and less pretentious than Béla Tarr. Indeed, it is the unpretentiousness of this film which makes it special, and specially 'unmasculine'. It is immersive 'pure cinema' that gives you time to think (and be yourself) while watching.
I didn't feel that Aurore was traumatised or desensitised. I felt that she moved through this film rather in the way I move through my days: as an interested onlooker . I really identified with her; I was captivated. I'd say that it is one of my favourite movies, and I am going to watch it, revel in it, again tonight.
Another reviewer has pointed out how the 'meetings', rendezvous or encounters (with both men and women) are so very contrasting in terms of emotion, while flowing along (passing through railway stations) and seeming so natural.
The bleak, treeless, sub-industrial, suburban landscapes are underlined by continual background noise of traffic and railways, which starts off being intrusive. By the end of the film, however, we hardly notice it - just as city-dwellers blot it out all the time 'in real life'. Aurore makes an almost serene (or at least unreactive) journey through the physical and moral wasteland left by the second world war and re-industrialisation, the spiritual bleakness of consumerism.
The final sequence is a radio-play of answering-machine messages which show that this very independent, creative woman is little more than a cog in a relentless social machine.
As a comment on inner experience seen as outer life, it is as good as Samuel Beckett - and less pretentious than Béla Tarr. Indeed, it is the unpretentiousness of this film which makes it special, and specially 'unmasculine'. It is immersive 'pure cinema' that gives you time to think (and be yourself) while watching.