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Portrait of a Young Girl at the End of the 60s in Brussels (1994)

Item: Portrait of a Young Girl at the End of the 60s in Brussels
Rating: 3.0
Author: Ross McLaren

★★★ — Portrait of a Young Girl at the End of the 60s in Brussels (1994)

Chantal Akerman made Portrait of a Young Girl at the End of the 60s in Brussels in 1994 as part of a commission from the Franco-German television channel Arte, which invited a number of directors to contribute short films set in a specific decade. The result is a 60-minute piece, produced by IMA Productions and La Sept-Arte, that sits somewhere between autobiography and fiction. Akerman herself grew up in Brussels in the late 1960s, and the film carries the weight of that personal geography: the streets, the mood, the particular restlessness of a generation just old enough to feel the aftershocks of 1968 but too young to have participated in any of it. It is worth noting that this is a TV movie, a format that has produced some genuinely striking work over the decades, from the political ferocity of The War Game to the eerie poetry of Lessons of Darkness, and Akerman uses the relative freedom of the format to make something unhurried and personal.

By 1994, Akerman was already a significant figure in European art cinema, best known internationally for her 1975 feature Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, a film that had established her reputation for long takes, rigorous formal observation, and an unflinching interest in the interior lives of women. This short film sits comfortably within those preoccupations, though the register here is lighter and warmer. The camera stays close to its subjects without feeling intrusive, a characteristic approach from Akerman that gives the film its particular texture. There is no score doing the emotional heavy lifting, no intercutting designed to manufacture tension. The film simply watches, and trusts the audience to do the same. For those familiar with French cinema's long tradition of attentive, low-key portraits of young women finding their footing in the world, think of Mustang or the quietly observed Tiger Stripes, this will feel like familiar and comfortable territory, even as Akerman's own voice remains distinctly her own.

The film centres on Michèle, played by Circé Lethem, a teenager spending an afternoon moving through Brussels, falling into conversation with a boy played by Julien Rassam, and circling questions about who she is and what she wants. Lethem carries the film with an easy, unaffected presence that suits the material perfectly. She does not perform introspection so much as simply exist in it, which is harder than it sounds. Rassam matches her without overshadowing her. The supporting cast, including Joëlle Marlier and Cynthia Rodberg, appear in the peripheral relationships that frame Michèle's afternoon, each encounter adding a small piece to a portrait that the film never tries to complete or explain. It is polished but unremarkable in terms of conventional production values, and that is entirely by design.

A Portrait of a Young Girl at the End of the 60s in Brussels (1994) is a quietly luminous gem of European indie cinema, slight in runtime but rich in mood, nuance, and emotional honesty. Directed by Chantal Akerman, this short film follows a teenage girl over the course of an afternoon as she wanders Brussels, meets a boy, talks, flirts, reflects, and drifts through the liminal space between childhood and adulthood. There’s no grand plot, no dramatic climax, just two young people sharing thoughts, silences, and the kind of open-ended conversation that feels both ordinary and profound. What struck me most was its naturalism. The dialogue never feels scripted; the pacing never rushed. It captures that specific, dreamy inertia of youth, the sense that a single afternoon can contain entire lifetimes of feeling. In many ways, it reminded me of Before SSunrie, but stripped of romantic idealism and American pretentiousness. Here, the connection is more tentative, the setting more grounded, the emotions less performative. It’s Before Sunrise with less pretense and more authenticity. It's not flashy, not loud, not plot-driven. But it’s observant, tender, and disarmingly real. A small film that lingers far longer than its 60 minutes suggest. For anyone who’s ever walked and talked with someone new, hoping the conversation wouldn’t end, this will feel like a memory you didn’t know you had.

For me, that quality of feeling like a recovered memory is what I keep coming back to. There is something almost archaeological about the way Akerman constructs an afternoon, the pauses included, as if the silences tell you as much as the words. I have sat with plenty of films that try hard to say something meaningful about youth and identity and end up saying very little, and it is genuinely refreshing to find one this modest in its ambitions and this generous in what it delivers. If you have any appetite for European cinema that takes its time and earns it, this one deserves your hour.

Rating: ★★★ | Year: 1994 | Watched: 2026-03-08

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