Filme perturbador, especialmente porque hoje acordamos com a notícia daquele protesto na Virginia da extrema direita americana, que inclusive se autodenominaram nazistas e cujo mote é minimizar a existência de negros, judeus e imigrantes em geral em nome da supremacia ariana. Se Chantal tratou isso há quase vinte anos como resquícios da Ku Klux Klan, especialmente explorando aquele magnífico travelling através da estrada em que aquele músico negro foi arrastado, uma espécie de retorno espaço-temporal de uma época abismal, ver a extrema direita voltando a ganhar força no século 21, inclusive em representantes do Estado, é uma situação atroz.

So strange to see Akerman take on the role of an outsider, largely removed from her autobiographical tendencies. A more traditional documentary would employ an economic approach to the material, pairing the audio of the interviews with the tracking shots of the town. Instead, the two are separated, alternating with one another. This simple rhythm effectively removes the film's capacity for a distinctive perspective; the authorial voice, or lack thereof, boils down to essential acts of listening and reflecting. Glimpses at laboring prisoners, black children playing on a dilapidated swing set, and working class neighborhoods all contain racial dynamics regarding economics and social status. While these elements aren’t highlighted by a vocal narration, they remain omniscient forces. Akerman is a tourist, as is the viewer, left to digest the words of locals during these prolonged street-view tours. Unlike the townsfolk, we have the freedom to ponder in private and, later, to forget the traumas entirely.

Chantal Akerman takes her role of the observer to a different level in SOUTH. While we still get plenty of her documentary trademarks, she isn't simply creating paintings here. She is using them to punctuate and illustrate the horrifying hate crime that shocked the town whose portrait she is taking.

Beauty in nature & brutality in reality

So strange to see Akerman take on the role of an outsider, largely removed from her autobiographical tendencies. A more traditional documentary would employ an economic approach to the material, pairing the audio of the interviews with the tracking shots of the town. Instead, the two are separated, alternating with one another. This simple rhythm effectively removes the film's capacity for a distinctive perspective; the authorial voice, or lack thereof, boils down to essential acts of listening and reflecting. Glimpses at laboring prisoners, black children playing on a dilapidated swing set, and working class neighborhoods all contain racial dynamics regarding economics and social status. While these elements aren’t highlighted by a vocal narration, they remain omniscient forces. Akerman is a tourist, as is the viewer, left to digest the words of locals during these prolonged street-view tours. Unlike the townsfolk, we have the freedom to ponder in private and, later, to forget the traumas entirely.

Filme perturbador, especialmente porque hoje acordamos com a notícia daquele protesto na Virginia da extrema direita americana, que inclusive se autodenominaram nazistas e cujo mote é minimizar a existência de negros, judeus e imigrantes em geral em nome da supremacia ariana. Se Chantal tratou isso há quase vinte anos como resquícios da Ku Klux Klan, especialmente explorando aquele magnífico travelling através da estrada em que aquele músico negro foi arrastado, uma espécie de retorno espaço-temporal de uma época abismal, ver a extrema direita voltando a ganhar força no século 21, inclusive em representantes do Estado, é uma situação atroz.

25/52 - The Ultimate 52 Films by Women Challenge

Film #25 - Documentary

I miss Chantal Akerman every day.

The last shot of this film has haunted me since the first time I saw it (in I Don't Belong Anywhere) and it will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. I feel similarly about this film as I did for D'Est, but here I appreciated the inclusion of the interviews. It made the film more poignant to me, to hear the people of the community tell their stories.

For me the viewing is hampered by my familiarity with the site in question--as Akerman's film is propelled by the foreign, outsider quality with which she observes. However, the last shot is a vital and moving piece of filmmaking--a simple yet daring transportation to the last three miles of a man's life.

those two shots