Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles

Written and Directed by

Hello.

See you next week, then.

No reading at the table.

Is it good?

I added less water than last week. Maybe that's why it's better.

You hardly eat. You don't look well, you know.

Want something else? Some fruit?

We got a letter from Aunt Fernanda in Canada.

I'll read it to you.

“Dear Jeanne and Sylvain,

I'm sorry I've taken so long to write back.

I often think of you and Belgium.

But I've been so busy with the kids starting back to school,

and suddenly I realized winter's here.

It's been snowing a lot, and I hardly get out.

The roads were so bad that the kids couldn't go to school last Friday,

and I'm at home most of the time,

because without a car, you get bogged down.

Jack says he'll teach me to drive next year.

The distances are simply too huge here.

He says I'm in Canada now and I should act like the locals.

The women here all drive, but I'm afraid I'll never learn.

But now all the cars are completely covered by snow.

The children are fine, big and strong.

Real Canadians, just like Jack.

I fear Jane may get too tall, but anyway, she's fine.

I hope you'll come see them this summer.

We have a large guest room, and Sylvain can sleep with his cousin.

Maybe we can introduce you to someone.

Jack says you should remarry,

that a good-looking woman shouldn't be alone.

George has been dead six years now.

We know you're very brave and you say you'd rather stay single

so as not to complain.

But sometimes when I think of you, tears come to my eyes.

Well, Jack will be home soon and the table's not set yet,

so I'll say good-bye, with a hug for you both.

Your loving sister and aunt, Fernande.

I sent a birthday present for Jeanne last month by boat.”

I wonder what that present could be.

Would you like to go to Canada?

“The Enemy,” by Charles Baudelaire.

“My youth was but a gloomy storm

With occasional flashes of dazzling sun

Thunder and rain have created such havoc

That in my garden few buds remain

Now I've reached the autumn of my thoughts

And I have to use...”

The spade.

“And I have to use the spade and rake

To reclaim a bit of the flooded land

Where water burrows pits like open graves.”

Once more.

“The Enemy,” by Charles Baudelaire.

“My youth was but a gloomy storm

With occasional flashes of dazzling suns

Thunder and rain have created such havoc

That in my garden few buds remain

Now I've reached the autumn of my thoughts

And I have to use the spade and rake

To reclaim a bit of the flooded land

Where water burrows pits like open graves.”

You're picking up the accent more and more.

I know. I can even pronounce the Rs like Yan,

and no one laughs at me at school anymore.

Perhaps...

but nobody forced you to go to the Flemish school.

Yes, I know - your friend.

I wonder if you can still say your Rs like me.

And now, the Bagatelle for Piano No. 27,

Opus 126 in A Minor, by Beethoven,

“Für Elise,” played by Suzanne Duchêne.

Come have a look.

You want it long, don't you?

I'm almost out of yarn.

- This is Tuesday, isn't it? - Yes.

You're always reading, just like your father.

I know. You already told me.

How did you meet my father?

Why do you ask that now?

I just read the word “miracle,”

and Aunt Fernande always said it was a miracle she met Jack.

Yes, he came in '44 to liberate us.

They tossed chewing gum and chocolates to us,

and we threw flowers to them.

I met your father after the Americans had left.

I was living with my aunts, because my parents were dead.

One Saturday, I went to the Bois de la Cambre with a girlfriend.

I don't remember the weather.

She knew him. You know who I mean. I've shown you her picture.

So we began seeing each other.

I was working as a billing clerk for horrible pay.

Life with my aunts was dull. I didn't feel like getting married,

but it seemed to be “the thing to do,” as they say.

My aunts kept saying, “He's nice. He has money.

He'll make you happy.”

But I still couldn't decide.

But I really wanted a life of my own, and a child.

Then his business suddenly hit the rocks, so I married him.

Things like that happened after the war.

My aunts had changed their minds.

They said a pretty girl like me could do better

and find a man who'd give me a good life.

They said he was ugly and so on, but I didn't listen.

If he was ugly, did you want to make love with him?

Ugly or not, it wasn't all that important.

Besides, “making love,” as you call it, is merely a detail.

And I had you. And he wasn't as ugly as all that.

Would you want to remarry?

No. Get used to someone else?

I mean someone you love.

Oh, you know...

Well, if I were a woman,

I could never make love with someone I wasn't deeply in love with.

How could you know? You're not a woman.

Lights out?

All right.

Sleep well.

end of the first day

Did you wash your hands?

Couldn't I have a little more today?

Thank you, ma'am.

How are you, ma'am?

Fine, thanks. Could you fix these by tomorrow?

My son's wearing his other pair,

but his feet get soaked when it rains.

They're last year's shoes.

I'll have a look.

And the heels too, while I'm at it.

All right. How's tomorrow at 4:00?

Fine.

- How's your boy doing? - Just fine.

You're happy with him? He listens to you?

Good.

What would I do without him?

They'll be ready tomorrow at 4:00.

Hello. It's been a long time.

Stop by for coffee this afternoon.

I can't today. Maybe next week.

All right. See you then.

Hello.

Here he is.

You weren't eating, were you?

What are you making for dinner?