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Chantal Akerman fans here?
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A Couch in New York was utterly boring.
They are not like the American stuff you normally watch... they are insightful, philosophical, introvert, slow on the outside, but burning internally, with high passions bursting through the cold exterior like jets of super-overheated crap...
They also tend to be quite long... this one pulling the scale at about three and a half hours.
Truth be told... the first hour is unusual, entertaining and suspenseful.
The second hour is OK, less suspenseful, but still somewhat entertaining.
It is during the third hour that you are getting strong urge to switch channels... watching the actress' back as she is doing dishes for twenty five long screen minutes can be considered one of the most decadent ways of killing time, and I suspect even in Europe the sound of balls scratching gets loud at that point.
If you are a typical European pseudo-intellectual, then with ten minutes still to go you begin to think of uncle Pierre and his new life in America... his letters suddenly making more sense!
All in all, there is that school of thought that claims ANY new experience is valuable. Apparently this is the film for its practitioners.
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fds
The director simply wants you to think for yourself, instead of downloading her thoughts into your head.
However, the early signs of stress were way too obvious and clearly lead to the less than surprising conclusion.
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Deneuve is hard to beat.
Nothing of less than two and a half hours will do.
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...again last night, as a matter of fact. What can be said about it that hasn't been said?
If one is a film lover one can slowly come to see the the sheer power of persuasion that Akerman has in enlisting the viewer as a vital player in the tale being told. It doesn't matter whether one likes it or not. To watch it with any sincerity is to become a participant. It transcends any requirement to understand or explain.
We already know what it is. We've seen it all before. We will see it again. Not the film; life showing itself to us. It's a masterpiece of the mundane, the genius of the ordinary, the evil of banality.
J
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