a looking with. Akerman took her own life on 5 October 2015, one year after her mother Natalia’s death. In her 2013 autobiographical novel Ma Mère rit, a book largely about caring (principally for her dying mother), but that equally and concurrently explores the fascinating and complex queerness of relationships between women, intergenerational and otherwise, Akerman writes that she could not commit suicide whilst her mother was still alive, the two lives, in a sense, appearing intertwined and interdependent. Her mother’s silence, particularly about the Holocaust, was what drove Akerman’s work. Mothers and daughters, in different, difficult and complex configurations, often unable to communicate without distance, physical or otherwise, appear everywhere. One thread woven through this collection is the mother; Mavor in ‘Moeder, Maman, Mom’ forms connections between her own memories of her mother, Akerman’s evocations, and Anne Frank’s diary, for example. Akerman remained, as she writes herself in Ma Mère rit, an old child; reading this refusal to grow up as a form of queerness, Chamarette writes that this agelessness might be read as ‘an ambivalent form of cinematic resistance.’ Not just resistance to ageing, but to forgetting, to glossing over, or even perhaps to healing. Whilst these essays highlight how Akerman’s images foreground careful attention, fluctuating between distance and proximity (not without their difficulties, as So Mayer’s essay on Sud explores), between being about care—often but not always as women’s work—caring about the world, and caring for specific people, they remind us that Akerman’s work does not offer us a safe space free of psychic distress. On the contrary, Akerman’s work is infused with unbearable loss and unutterable pain, emanating, as Flitterman-Lewis writes, from ‘a community of women who share, whether articulated or not, stories and memories of an unspeakable past’: for Akerman coalescing in the ‘nexus of Mother, Memory, Shoah and Home.’ Schmid’s closing essay on No Home Movie characterises it as ‘a film of silent exits, a mise-en-scène of disappearances.’ The explicit attention to Akerman’s Jewish identity as well as to her investment in queer affective engagements is a welcome lens through which to explore her oeuvre. Another way to understand care is to think of it as a form of generosity; these essays, each in their own way, open up to Akerman’s own extraordinary generosity as a filmmaker, writer and artist, offering new, expansive points of departure.

中文翻译：

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马恩河上的船：让雷诺阿对现代性的批判

一个看着。阿克曼于 2015 年 10 月 5 日，也就是她的母亲娜塔莉亚去世一年后结束了自己的生命。在她 2013 年的自传体小说 Ma Mère rit 中，这本书主要是关于关怀（主要是为了她垂死的母亲），但同时也探讨了女性之间、代际和其他方面关系的迷人而复杂的奇怪之处，阿克曼写道，她不能自杀虽然她的母亲还活着，但从某种意义上说，这两种生活似乎交织在一起，相互依存。她母亲的沉默，尤其是关于大屠杀的沉默，是推动阿克曼工作的动力。母亲和女儿，在不同的、困难和复杂的配置中，经常无法在没有距离的情况下进行交流，无论是身体上的还是其他方面的，无处不在。贯穿这个系列的一条线是母亲；Mavor in 'Moeder, Maman, 例如，妈妈在她自己对母亲的记忆、阿克曼的回忆和安妮弗兰克的日记之间建立了联系。阿克曼留下了，正如她在 Ma Mère rit 中写的那样，一个年长的孩子；查马雷特将这种拒绝成长视为一种怪异的形式，他写道，这种不老可能会被解读为“一种矛盾的电影抵抗形式”。不仅仅是抗衰老，还有遗忘，掩饰，甚至可能治愈。虽然这些文章突出了阿克曼的图像如何突出谨慎的注意力，在距离和接近之间波动（正如 So Mayer 关于 Sud 的文章所探讨的那样），在关心（通常但并不总是作为女性的工作）关心世界，和关心特定的人，他们提醒我们，阿克曼的工作并没有为我们提供一个没有精神痛苦的安全空间。相反，阿克曼的作品充满了无法忍受的失落和无法言喻的痛苦，正如 Flitterman-Lewis 所写的那样，源自“一个女性社区，她们分享着无法言说的过去的故事和记忆”：因为阿克曼融入了“母亲、记忆、浩劫和家的纽带”。施密德关于《无家可归》的结尾文章将其描述为“一部无声的退出电影，一场失踪的舞台布置”。对阿克曼的犹太人身份以及她对酷儿情感活动的投入的明确关注是一个受欢迎的镜头，可以通过它来探索她的作品。理解关怀的另一种方式是将其视为一种慷慨；这些文章以自己的方式展现了阿克曼作为电影制片人、作家和艺术家的非凡慷慨，提供了新的、广阔的出发点。正如 Flitterman-Lewis 所写，阿克曼的作品充满了无法忍受的失落和无法言说的痛苦，源自“一个女性社区，她们分享（无论是否清晰）一段无法言说的过去的故事和记忆”：因为阿克曼在“母亲、记忆、浩劫和家。施密德关于《无家可归》的结尾文章将其描述为“一部无声的退出电影，一场失踪的舞台布置”。对阿克曼的犹太人身份以及她对酷儿情感活动的投入的明确关注是一个受欢迎的镜头，可以通过它来探索她的作品。理解关怀的另一种方式是将其视为一种慷慨；这些文章以自己的方式展现了阿克曼作为电影制片人、作家和艺术家的非凡慷慨，提供了新的、广阔的出发点。正如 Flitterman-Lewis 所写，阿克曼的作品充满了无法忍受的失落和无法言喻的痛苦，源自“一个女性社区，她们分享（无论是否清晰）不可言说的过去的故事和记忆”：因为阿克曼在“母亲、记忆、浩劫和家。施密德关于《无家可归》的结尾文章将其描述为“一部无声的退出电影，一场失踪的舞台布置”。对阿克曼的犹太人身份以及她对酷儿情感活动的投入的明确关注是一个受欢迎的镜头，可以通过它来探索她的作品。理解关怀的另一种方式是将其视为一种慷慨。这些文章以自己的方式展现了阿克曼作为电影制片人、作家和艺术家的非凡慷慨，提供了新的、广阔的出发点。