204. The Discovery of Heaven

Song - While My Guitar Gently Weeps (The Beatles)

Movie: The Discovery of Heaven (Jeroen Krabbé, 2001)

I will at some point finish reading The Discovery of Heaven. It is the 'magnum opus' of Harry Mulisch, the most celebrated Dutch novelist of the 20th century, who was said to wait by the phone on the day that the Nobel Prize winners were announced. The first half of the book is worthy of that description. Mulisch weaves all kinds of disparate threads into a wonderful blend of history, politics, sex, science and philosophy, challenging you to keep up, without bothering too much with the authenticity and accuracy of his ideas. Halfway through he kills Ada, 'births' Quinten and shifts his focus to opaque and aphoristic religious symbolism and mythic spiritualism. I have always found 'Chosen one' narratives to be a bit dull, and was disappointed that such a richly imaginative, uncategorisable novel turned into exactly that. This adaptation is fateful to the book and completely loses steam after the halfway point. A bigger problem is that Krabbé is a much worse filmmaker than Mulisch is a writer, which makes even the good parts a bit bland. 

Krabbé tries to evoke the spirit behind Mulisch writing, who constantly jumps between wildly different ideas, finds connections between people, places and historic periods where you'd least expect them, and renews plot threads you thought were resolved or forgotten. He does all that without ever losing sight of the complexity of his three main characters, Onno, Max and Ada. It's really hard to find a thoroughline in such an ambitiously labyrinthine story, and Krabbé never does. The many match cuts are a testament to his struggles, and a logical approach, but it too often feels like this is nothing more than a coillection of the highlights of Mulisch' book. Especially during the first half, many scene transitions fall completely flat and as a result everything in the film feels a bit disconnected from everything else. It also doesn't help that Krabbé's imagination of heaven is purely functional, and completely devoid of any interesting visual or narrative details. 

Onno, Max and Ada are played by Stephen Fry, Greg Wise (Emma Thompson's husband) and Flora Montgomery. They all are good and evoke well their intellectual, romantic and political passions, as well as their somewhat cocky arrogance that their pursuit and expression of these passions is more important than anything else. Fry is born to play verbose, charming and self-deprecating intellectuals, but he overdoes that last part. He is a bit too happy to outwardly express the doubts and vulnerabilities of his character, in a way that doesn't feel right for the kind of Dutch intellectual he portrays. His Onno comes off a bit as a more self-aware Jacob Rees-Mogg, with way better politics and morals, but Rees-Moggs in any form are quite alien to the Netherlands. 

203. Morvern Callar

Song - Nothing Compares 2 U (Sinéad O'Connor)

Movie: Morvern Callar (Lynne Ramsay, 2002)

What if the elephant in the room would actually go away if you'd simply ignore it? When Morvern's (Samantha Morton) boyfriend commits suicide, she doesn't tell anyone and lets the body rot on the floor as a minor nuisance (leading to some morbidly funny moments) for weeks until she buries it anonymoulsy in a faraway field. With her still unprocessed grief, she then decides to take her best friend Lanna (Kathleen McDermott) on a wildly irresponsible holiday, while also passing off her boyfriend's just finished novel as her own. Every decision she makes is misguided and the consequence of her refusal to acknowledge and address the shitty situation she's found herself in. And yet, she ends the film in a far better emotional, psychological and financial state than she began it. 

The offbeat framing, sound design and lighting choices Ramsay makes, for a long time conceal the truly eccentric elements of the film, until everything finally sinks in at the end. Morvern Callar shares certain commonalities with revenge movies that use the death of a loved one as starting points for violent wish fulfilment fantasies. The fantasy here is not violent (though it could be seen as revenge on the 'killer'), but is more relatable, which perhaps also makes it more uncomfortable. Yes, we can imagine how we would feel if someone would kill a loved one, and we can imagine how satisfying it could be to go on a vengeful killing spree in response. But that's not a thing that would happen to most of us, nor would we necessarily be able and willing to respond to it like the Uma Thurmans and Charles Bronsons of the world. But we have all at some point in our lives wished to ignore, and choose the easy way out of, an uncomfortable situation, behaving in somewhat irresponsible ways in the hope that it would simply disappear. Morton's Morvern does just that and becomes cooler by the minute, ending the film sipping whyskis in a bar with an air of world-beating confidence that's hard to reconcile with the mousy detached girl we saw at the beginning. 

It's an ending that makes sense, as this is not a film primarily about Morvern's grief, but about her attittude, and the way she responds to men and music, and to her friends and her surroundings. Ramsay wants us to be aware of these surroundings, and fills the film with music, sounds, unusual lighting sources and interesting sights, all of which she tries to present from different perspectives. A great example are the flickering lights of Morvern's Christmas three in her living room; Ramsay has gone to great lengths to ensure that these lights are in some way 'present' in every shot of Morvern in her apartment, and that their effect is always slightly different depending on Morvern's location in the apartment. Also worth mentioning are the slightly surrealist touches Ramsay gives to the Spanish village procession. The sequence is given a different, hazier look from the rest of the film, and alternates between the point of view of Morvern and Lanna, who see and hear the same things, but seemingly experience them differently. It's wonderful to see how well executed and complex most of Ramsay's shots are, although that does also make it more noticeable when certain shots and scenes are just thoughtlessly stylized artistic flourishes that don't make much sense in or out of context. That is in particular true for anything involving the publishers, but is in general much less a problem here than in Ramsay's We Need To Talk About Kevin. 

202. Soldier of Orange

Song - Zing Vecht Huil Bid Lach Werk en Bewonder (Ramses Shaffy)

Movie: Soldier of Orange - Soldaat van Oranje (Paul Verhoeven, 1977)

In 1947, the Dutch secret service thwarted an attempt to overthrow the Dutch government. The coup, which failed before it ever seriously began, aimed to block the process of recognising Indonesia as an independent state. Among the conspirators were a former Dutch prime minister and a number of World War 2 resistance heroes, including the "soldier of Orange", Erik Hazelhoff Roelfzema. This was not public knowledge when this film, based on Roelfzema's memoirs, was made, but you can easily imagine its Erik Lanshof (Rutger Hauer) participating in such a scheme. His resistance against the Nazi's is driven more by instincts and a somewhat misplaced sense of adventure than by idealism and moral conviction. And though he would like to believe himself a man capable of making his own luck, Verhoeven never lets us forget that he is ultimately just a cog in the (resistance) machine, and not even an incredibly significant one. 

In addition to this thoroughly wonderful film, Roelfzema's memoirs also spawned the most succesful musical in Dutch theater history. It premiered in October 2010 and is still running. I haven't seen it, but its centerpiece song presents a conventionally heroic narrative: If we don't do anything, who else will/It's up to you and me/we are our only hope. This is pretty much a direct repudiation of what Verhoeven is doing, always portraying the individual resistance fighters as part of a greater whole. All of Lanshof's missions are placed in the context of a far broader resistance effort, without us (or him) ever getting a real sense of that broader context. The film for the most part presents everything from Lanshof's point of view, and so we are not made aware of the actions in tha past that made Lanshof resistance efforts necessary and possible, nor do we see the consequences his resistance efforts have. We are asked to have faith that other people we are not aware of have done, and will continue to do, the right thing, whatever that may be. This approach produces a film of almost ceaseless movement, both by the camera and the characters who are constantly thinking, scheming, spying, flirting, improvising, planning and adjusting their plans based on the information available. It is ridiculously entertaining and often almost equally tense. 

I am not the greatest fan of Paul Verhoeven. I think he tries too hard to be seen as clever and inflammatory, which can sometimes suck the air out of his films and make them painfully obvious. It's impossible to not enjoy Basic Instinct, but I have never warmed to Turkish Delight and Starship Troopers. A populist film like Soldier of Orange is probably the perfect match for him, as it stops him from making too strained choices, while adding flair to what could have been a more conventional bore in someone else's hands. Nobody but Verhoeven could film the scene in which Queen Wilhelmina is having a formal talk with Erik, while in the background of the frame his resistance/fraternity buddy Guus (Jeroen Krabbe) is having wild sex with the woman who should prepare their next mission. The same can be said about Erik's tango with Alex (Derek de Lint), his friend from college who went on to fight for the Germans. More subversive than the sexual innuendo is the suggestion that Alex and Erik aren't that dissimilar. They haven't thought particularly long and hard about the decision to join the side they joined and their roles could have been easily reversed. Neither of them can probably articulate exactly why they aren't. Finally, the opening scene is a technical marvel. Verhoeven meticulously recreates the style of Dutch 1940's newsreels to seamlessly integrate fictional characters in archival footage. 

201. Barcelona

Song - Holiday In Spain (Blof & Counting Crows)

Movie: Barcelona (Whit Stillman, 1994)

-You can't say Americans are not more violent than other people.

-All those people killed in shootings in America?

-Oh, shootings, yes. But that doesn't mean Americans are more violent than other people. We're just better shots.

Write lines like that, and you got me hooked! Barcelona is filled with such sharp dialogue, which is not a surprise if you've seen Stillman's Metropolitan and Love & Friendship. The film's timeliness, on the other hand, was quite unexpected. Fred's (Chris Eigeman) defense of American violence is a case of professional deformation. He is an American officer sent on a diplomatic mission to Barcelona to make the case for the arrival of an American navy fleet. The film takes place in 1987, five years after Spain became part of NATO and Fred is horrified to learn that many Spaniards are opposed to this alliance. Unfortunately, a ballpoint pen is not enough to erase graffiti demanding that "American pigs go home". 

I am one of those people who hoped that NATO would one day become obsolete, and that it was on its way to be so. Unfortunately the last few weeks have shown that it is still a necessary evil. Barcelona sees it as an unnecessary good, and is wistful about its disappearing relevance, connecting this to broader musings about Americanism at the tail end of the Cold War. This is an incredibly rare film that is both proud of American patriotism and the military/conservative values associated with it, and acceptant that it will, and maybe should, have a diminished importance in the world. It often reminds of the many 70's and 80's films nostalgically remembering the lost values of the 50's and 60's. To say it a bit pretentiously, it is an 'End of History' film, viewing this ending with sadness, from a liberal-conservative American point of view. Stillman, who has made only 5 movies in 32 years, is self-aware and fully understands why this perspective may be annoying to Americans and obnoxious to non-Americans. It makes Barcelona quite an endearing romantic comedy.

He is also an intelligent and good filmmaker, maybe best highlighted by the scene in which Ted (Taylor Nichols), drives his cousin Fred around Barcelona, showing him its highlights, including 'the cathedral', which remains unnamed. The camera mostly stays inside the car focusing on the two Americans as they travel across the city, discuss their romantic and professional prospects, and pay little attention to their surroundings. Ted is a salesman who has memorised all the great business self help books, but is still afraid to get fired. He is also a nebbish, insecure Woody Allen-like character (though Protestant instead of Jewish) who after his latest rejection vows to only date homely, plain-looking women and rediscovers the Bible (when he reads it, he covers it up by The Economist). Once the bickering cousins meet two attractive Spanish women (played by Mira Sorvino and Tushka Bergen), you'd expect the film to proceed along the usual lines, but it takes a surprisingly dark turn that Stillman handles extremely well. He takes seriously the potential implications of what's happened, without letting the romance and the comedy escape from him.