The tradition of André Labarthe and Janine Bazin’s television series Cinéastes de notres temps was always to employ one renowned filmmaker to document and appraise the working life of another. When asked to contribute to this tradition, Akerman facetiously offered herself as a subject and was surprised to find her proprietors obliging. The resulting program does not flow like a standard educational rundown of an artist’s accomplishments and working methods; rather, it offers a window into Akerman’s particular mindset in 1996, which is elucidated in the lengthy monologue from the director herself that opens the film. Speaking candidly from her apartment, Akerman elaborates on her life and work, saving few kind words for the bureaucratic processes inherent in producing motion pictures, and generally avoiding any in-depth explication of the meaning of her films. Eventually, the hour-long program segues to an associative montage of moments from Akerman’s ouevre, in the process teasing out echoes and dissonances across her body of shorts, features and documentaries. Functioning as both a primer for the uninitiated and a possible skeleton key for the devoted auteurist, Chantal Akerman par Chantal Akerman gives rare access to its maker’s headspace.