this movie only comes alive in the wall-smashing chase scene through the sex club. i can't help but rate it even lower because of taxi driver's existence. and i wish there wasn't such a glaring disconnect between the father's emotionally unavailable nature, which the film mines for dramatic effect, and his calvinist beliefs, which schrader suggests is the main oppressive force in his family's life.
Thanks to Alicia Fletcher and the Royal Cinema for bringing this to Toronto, and the pleasant surprise of the distributor sending them a 35mm print by accident!
Like a lot of people/film studies grads I’d only seen bits and pieces of this film before and never sat through its entirety. Hearing the audience (a bit on the smaller side but quite attentive) visibly gasp upon its conclusion really did me in. And mon dieu is Akerman’s expression of feminist frustration ever resonant today 😞