Hotel Monterey is both literal and abstract if that makes sense; it's a series of images taken inside of a not-terrible-but-not-great middling hotel on several floors over one night (and eventually, by day-break, on the roof), and, the occasional tenant besides, shots go on at points for, well, at least a couple of times a full film magazine I'd guess (which for such a camera like Akerman had I'd say 8 to 9 minutes). So time is stretched and because it's shot M. O. S., as we day in filmmaker speak for without sound, we are left with what is almost meant to create this meditative space for us; what is a lonely space, or somewhere people are absent from? What does this absence do to us?
It's a good idea for an experiment, but I suspect this needs to be seen in an actual movie theater or not at all; at home, even on my relatively large HD TV, I can't fully lose myself in these shots of the hotel, even the ones when, eventually, she is less static and more moving the camera (even if it is at one point back and forth in the same hallway), and I can't tap into the rhythm that she's creating. The other part is the lack of any sound - I didn't necessarily need music (though something like on some very low key vibe could have added something), but if one had even the ambiance of the place, like other sounds that would be going on coming from the other apartments or who knows what in the NYC night, it would make the immersion more complete.
And of course it can be anyone's interpretation, but there's nothing really extra past the excellent compositions; it's the kind of thing that really would be more interesting for a photo book or even a series in a gallery so that someone can take their own pace to look at these interiors (and exteriors). Maybe if there's some day where I have a chance to see her experimental films like at Anthology Film Archives (which is as the liner notes tell me where Akerman got inspired when she first came to New York and immersed herself in underground and avant garde works like by Michael Snow and Mekas), I'd get a little more out of it. I'd like to say it's not a movies fault if my downstairs neighbors arguing interrupts my concentration, but in this case it kind of is.
It's a good idea for an experiment, but I suspect this needs to be seen in an actual movie theater or not at all; at home, even on my relatively large HD TV, I can't fully lose myself in these shots of the hotel, even the ones when, eventually, she is less static and more moving the camera (even if it is at one point back and forth in the same hallway), and I can't tap into the rhythm that she's creating. The other part is the lack of any sound - I didn't necessarily need music (though something like on some very low key vibe could have added something), but if one had even the ambiance of the place, like other sounds that would be going on coming from the other apartments or who knows what in the NYC night, it would make the immersion more complete.
And of course it can be anyone's interpretation, but there's nothing really extra past the excellent compositions; it's the kind of thing that really would be more interesting for a photo book or even a series in a gallery so that someone can take their own pace to look at these interiors (and exteriors). Maybe if there's some day where I have a chance to see her experimental films like at Anthology Film Archives (which is as the liner notes tell me where Akerman got inspired when she first came to New York and immersed herself in underground and avant garde works like by Michael Snow and Mekas), I'd get a little more out of it. I'd like to say it's not a movies fault if my downstairs neighbors arguing interrupts my concentration, but in this case it kind of is.