Sounds of Silence

A door closes. A faucet runs, then shuts off. Heeled shoes clack across a tile floor. Most of the sounds in Chantal Akerman’s 1975 film Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, recently #1 on Sight & Sound’s ten-yearly poll of the best films of all time, are not dialogue, but the incidental noise of relentless domestic work. Over the course of three and a half hours, we watch Jeanne live through three days. We witness her mash eggs and milk into ground beef for meat loaf, wash the inside of her bathtub after washing herself, grind beans for coffee she will brew and throw out—seeing her do all this is just as important as hearing her do it. The pattern of sounds communicates the nature of a work so repetitive and shackling that when its end comes, the moment that breaks the monotony is mute: finally, silence.