三碟 共9部电影 《我的城市(1968)》《可爱的孩子，或我扮演已婚女人 (1971)》《房间 (1972)》《家乡的消息 (1976)》《蒙特利旅馆(1989)》《8月15日 (1975)》《我你他她 (1974)》《安娜的旅程 (1978)》《让娜·迪尔曼 (1975)》

香特尔·阿克曼(Chantal Akerman)无疑是比利时最杰出的女导演。1950年出生于布鲁塞尔，毕业于巴黎高等电影学院，之后在法国、比利时和美国拍过几部短片和长片；二战后欧洲艺术电影的叙事技巧对她影响很大，使她专注于描绘女性偶然的遭遇和意外的出现。她将女性的工作、爱情、欲望，作为长期关注的主题。她执导的电影探索多重叙事结构，拍过各种类型的影片（纪录片、音乐剧、日记等）。
　　年轻时的阿克曼可以说是一位电影天才少女，当她15岁时看过名导让-吕克·戈达尔的《狂人皮埃罗》之后就决心要拍一部属于自己的电影，但在电影学校学习三个月之后，她就退学在家自学电影知识了，1968年也就是当她18岁的时候，已经完成了自己的第一部短片《细看我的城镇》。
　　1971年香特尔·阿克曼和比利时著名编剧、导演Samy Szlingerbaum移居纽约，开始逐渐对美国实验电影有所了解。特别是和迈克尔·斯诺、安迪·沃霍尔、斯坦·布拉克基、乔纳斯·马克斯等文艺界人士的接触，使得她逐渐树立了自己的电影风格：悲观的幽默和批判主义。
　　她的第一部长片《我你他她》(Je, tu, il, elle)，是关于自我反省的三部曲，靠即兴表演拍摄，仅用了8天时间，而且耗资很低。她接着拍摄了《让娜·迪尔曼》(Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles)。这部影片不仅是长期以来比利时最重要的影片，而且是国际上最佳“女性电影”之一。她在2000年因成功地导演了颇受争议的《迷惑》一片而备受好评。此片的灵感来自于法国意识流大师马塞尔·普鲁斯特的长篇小说《追忆逝水年华》的第15卷。
阿克曼于2015年10月5日在巴黎自杀身亡，时年65岁；在此之前她才因忧郁症住院，返回巴黎住所十天后便自杀。

◎简　　介　

我的城市 Saute ma ville (1968)

Made when the director was just eighteen, Chantal Akerman’s debut film is a blistering first expression of what would become one of her major themes: women’s confinement in and rebellion against the domestic sphere. Akerman plays a young woman who, alone in her kitchen, enacts a savaging of traditional domestic rituals that leads to a literally explosive climax.

可爱的孩子，或我扮演已婚女人 L'enfant aimé ou je joue à être une femme mariée (1971)

One of Chantal Akerman’s most rarely seen works is an intimate portrait of a young mother (played by Claire Wauthion) whose day-to-day routines are intercut with her stream-of-consciousness ruminations on her family, sex life, relationships, and body. Though Akerman (who also appears in the film) was later dismissive of her second directorial effort, its patient focus on the tension between domesticity and a woman’s inner life marks L’enfant aimé as an important link in the development of her artistry.

房间 La Chambre (1972)

Chantal Akerman’s dialogue with the 1960s avant-garde movement of structural cinema begins here, with the first film she made in New York City—a breakthrough in her experiments with the bending of cinematic time and space. As the camera completes a series of circular pans around a small apartment, the interior’s furniture, its clutter, and the filmmaker herself—staring back at us from bed—become the subjects of a moving still life.

蒙特利旅馆 Hôtel Monterey (1989)

Under Chantal Akerman’s watchful eye, a cheap Manhattan hotel glows with mystery and unexpected beauty, its corridors, elevators, rooms, windows, and occasional occupants framed like Edward Hopper tableaux. Filmed over the course of fifteen hours, from evening to dawn, with cinematographer and frequent collaborator Babette Mangolte’s carefully controlled camera gradually making its way from the lamplit lobby to the rooftop overlooking an awakening city, this radical, silent experiment in duration stands as one of Akerman’s most arresting formal achievements, collapsing time and charging the quotidian space it surveys with an eerie unreality.

8月15日 Le 15/8 (1975)

Shot and directed by Chantal Akerman and Samy Szlingerbaum, this quietly revealing variation on the filmmaker’s recurring themes of dislocation and alienation unfolds on one day—August 15, 1973—in a Paris apartment, where Finnish expat Chris Myllykoski opens up to the camera about her anxieties and uncertainties, her aspirations and ennui, and the sense of vulnerability she feels being a woman alone in an unfamiliar country. As Myllykoski’s voice-over narration shifts between the mundane and the searching, Akerman’s observant camera remains attuned to tiny gestures that tell a story of their own.

我你他她 Je, tu, il, elle (1974)

Chantal Akerman’s first narrative feature is a startlingly vulnerable exploration of alienation and the search for connection. In a performance at once daringly exposed and enigmatic, Akerman plays a young woman who, following a lengthy, self-imposed exile, ventures out into the world, where she has two very different experiences of intimacy: first with a truck driver (Niels Arestrup) who picks her up, and then with a female ex-lover (Claire Wauthion). Culminating in an audacious, real-time carnal encounter that brought lesbian sexuality to the screen with a new frankness, Je tu il elle finds Akerman wielding her radical minimalism with a newfound emotional and psychological precision.

让娜·迪尔曼 Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975)

A singular work in film history, Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles meticulously details, with a sense of impending doom, the daily routine of a middle-aged widow, whose chores include making the beds, cooking dinner for her son, and turning the occasional trick. In its enormous spareness, Akerman’s film seems simple, but it encompasses an entire world. Whether seen as an exacting character study or as one of cinema’s most hypnotic and complete depictions of space and time, Jeanne Dielman is an astonishing, compelling movie experiment, one that has been analyzed and argued over for decades.

家乡的消息 News from Home (1976)

Following her time living in New York in the early 1970s, Chantal Akerman returned to the city to create one of her most elegantly minimalist and profoundly affecting meditations on dislocation and estrangement. Over a series of exactingly composed shots of Manhattan circa 1976, the filmmaker reads letters sent by her mother years earlier. The juxtaposition between the intimacy of these domestic reports and the lonely, bleakly beautiful cityscapes results in a poignant reflection on personal and familial disconnection that doubles as a transfixing time capsule.

安娜的旅程 Les Rendez-vous d'Anna (1978)

Chantal Akerman’s narrative follow-up to her international breakthrough, Jeanne Dielman, is a penetrating portrait of a woman’s soul-deep malaise and a mesmerizing odyssey through a haunted Europe. While on a tour through Germany, Belgium, and France to promote her latest movie, Anna (Aurore Clément), an accomplished filmmaker, passes through a series of eerie, exquisitely shot brief encounters—with men and women, family and strangers—that gradually reveal her emotional and physical detachment from the world. Mirroring the itinerant Akerman’s own restless wanderings, this quasi self-portrait journeys through a succession of liminal spaces—hotel rooms, railway stations, train cars—toward an indelible encounter with the specter of history.