Week 17/2023

This week’s agenda selection highlights films that investigate the act of leaving a place, the emotions of returning to it, or the attempts of getting to know it completely. Always connected with histories, personal and global.

On Monday, for the final screening of their retrospective on filmmaker and influential feminist theorist Trinh T. Minh-ha, CINEMATEK is screening her 2015 essay work Forgetting Vietnam in which she commemorates the 40th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War. In this exploration of the history and present of Vietnam, she has only one request for her viewers: “Please follow me. Trust me, for deep feeling and understanding require total commitment.”

On Tuesday, CINEMATEK is treating us with a screening of their own restoration of an iconic Chantal Akerman film. At the age of 21, Akerman moved from Brussels to New York City, where she lived “like a vagabond”. Some years later, after returning to Belgium and making our beloved Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, Akerman created News from Home (1977). Long takes of New York City are set to a voice-over of Akerman reading the letters her mother sent while she was away. This screening is part of a “prelude” to the 10th edition of the Contour Biennale, curated by the Brussels production and distribution platform Auguste Orts. 

On three different days this week, you can travel to De Cinema in Antwerp to watch Elixir d’Anvers (1996) and have a – possibly disorienting – deep dive into the past of this city. The anthology film, supervised by the Belgian Fugitive Cinema filmmaker Robbe De Hert, consists of six parts of Antwerp history, real and fictional, seen through the eyes of Flemish and Dutch young directors. The whole thing is strung together by De Hert’s comic street interviews. 

Forgetting Vietnam
Forgetting Vietnam , Trinh T. Minh-ha, 2016, 90’

Influential feminist theorist and filmmaker Trinh T. Minh-ha’s lyrical film essay commemorating the 40th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War draws inspiration from ancient legend and from water as a force evoked in every aspect of Vietnamese culture. Images of contemporary life unfold as a dialogue between land and water. Fragments of text and song evoke the echoes and traces of a trauma of international proportions.

 

EN

Erika Balsom: You’re well known as a documentary filmmaker and have written an influential critique of the genre; you have even said that there is no such thing as documentary. Could you elaborate?

Trinh T. Minh-ha: I don’t think of my films in terms of categories – documentary, fiction, film art, educational or experimental – but rather as fluid, interacting movements. The first is to let the world come to us through an outside-in movement – this is what some call ‘documentary’. The other is to reach out to the world from the inside out, which is what some call ‘fiction’. But these categories always overlap. I wrote ‘there is no such thing as documentary’ because it’s illusory to take the real and reality for granted and to think that a neutral language exists, even though we often strive for such neutrality in our scholarly work. To use an image is to enter fiction.

Trinh T. Minh-ha in conversation with Erika Balsom1

 

“There is a scene in Trinh T. Minh-ha’s provocative portrait of postwar Vietnam in Forgetting Vietnam (2015) that names a genre of dysphoric subjectivity under global capital. In an underexposed room backlit by the noon sun, the camera captures a fleeting moment of diverted attention. A figure, whose mahogany robes and shaved head mark his indelible difference as a nonsecular, ethnic subject, is seen sitting on a stool against a chipped plaster wall, monitoring a swaying wooden mallet. Though tasked to discipline the mallet into properly timed strikes against a temple gong for the tourists, his gaze, like the mallet, forgets the trajectory to which he is bound and begins to wander. At times, the figure steals a momentary glance at the surveilling regard of the camera, closing the distance between spectator and subject that sustains the voyeuristic relationship between a body marked by difference and its other. While the viewer is immersed in this mundane snapshot of fleeting distraction, a question interrupts the bottom right corner of the screen, evaporating out of sight as quickly as it came: ‘getting bored?’

Though the address remains ambivalent – to the figure in frame (bored of your task?), the audience in the theater (bored of this scene?), or the abstract voyeur of Vietnam (bored of these images?) – the question nonetheless interpellates a genre that links subjects across the time and space of global capital, especially in sites and populations zoned as disposable reservoirs of extractable labor.”

Nguyen, Trung Phan Quoc2

screening
CINEMATEK, Brussels
News from Home
News from Home , Chantal Akerman, 1977, 85’

News from Home consists of long takes of locations in New York City, set to Akerman’s voice-over as she reads letters her mother sent her between 1971 and 1973, when the director lived in the city.

EN

Dear child,

l received your letter and hope you will write often. l hope you won’t stay away too long and that you’ve found a job by now. If you’re doing well, we’re happy. Even though we do miss you. When will you be back? Everything is fine here, but Sylviane is home with the flu. My blood pressure is low. l’m on medication for it. Today is my birthday. l feel sad. lt’s quiet at the shop. Tonight we’re going out to dinner with friends. That’s all. Your birthday is coming up. l wish you all the best. Write to me soon about your work, about New York, about everything. Lots of love from the three of us.

Your loving mother

 

“Tot ik News from Home zag en Les rendez-vous d’Anna, had ik altijd het gevoelen dat een camera een sadistisch instrument is. Gefotografeerd worden betekent: gereduceerd worden tot een weerloos object. Mijn lichaam wordt op verkleinde schaal gestold, de waarneming ervan herleid tot het visuele, en dan nog vanuit één enkel perspectief. Ben ik gefotografeerd, dan kan ik gezien worden zonder zelf te zien. Meer nog dan een wassen pop, uitgevallen haren of nagelknipsels leent een foto mijn lichaam tot een groot aantal van kwaadaardige gebruiken. Niet het feit dat Lewis Carroll jonge meisjes fotografeerde geeft mij te denken, wel het feit dat hij tot elke prijs vermeed zelf gefotografeerd te worden. In de film wordt het object vaak vergroot, en het geeft de illusie dat het zich vrij in de ruimte kan bewegen. In feite wordt het object nog sterker gereduceerd door die illusie. Het gefilmde object is in een kooi van licht gevangen, vanuit een soort van mirador houden wij het object binnen de lichtkegel van onze projector. Waardoor is het dat de films van Chantal Akerman mij een niet-sadistisch gebruik van de camera demonstreren?”

Daniël Robberechts1

screening
CINEMATEK, Brussels
Elixir d’Anvers
Elixir d’Anvers , Robbe De Hert, 1996, 105’

Recently restored, this 1996 anthology film, supervised by Robbe De Hert, consists of six films by four Flemish and two Dutch young directors. A group of Dutch people, being guided through Antwerp's past, experiences the city through the centuries in a kaleidoscope of stories, some completely made up and others based on true facts. The films are: Tanchelijn (Boris Paval Conen), Opstand aan de Rie’dijk (Wolke Kluppell), Balthasar De Groote (Nathalie Declerq), Mannequin d’Anvers (Wim Symoens), Hendrik Conscience (Tom van Overberghe) and Gilbert Van Schoonbeke (Filip van Neyghem).

screening
De Cinema, Antwerp
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