and it is called Zwartboek. Rather than recap the plot and point out a few details that make it so great, I will simply focus on the things it does better than others. I am an extreme fan of Paul Verhoeven, of course, so the man can almost do no wrong in my eyes. However, for the sake of understanding why Zwartboek moved me to tears at times whilst other World War II films had me stone-faced and unimpressed, one must contrast it with not only other films of the genre, but other films in general. First, however, let me get the most gushing praise out of the way. I knew Zwartboek was going to be a good film for Verhoeven, being that it seems to show him learning from all the mistakes of the past twenty years while purging the demons that drove him to make them. What I was not expecting was the best film I have seen since RoboCop. Where one shows a younger Verhoeven adjusting to the quirks and idiosyncrasies of a very different film industry, the other shows him as a master fully in control of his art.
Now, onto the reasons why Zwartboek is the best thing I have seen in twenty years. There are a few films that have attempted to use diabetes as a plot device in the past. Thy Neighbour's Wife and Memento are easily two of the worst recent examples. Zwartboek avoids their mistakes by bearing in mind that killing someone with insulin requires that someone's trust, even if it is gained through deceit. It also requires a larger amount of insulin than shown in most films where this device is used. Zwartboek shows a bit of a hint at just how much (five milliliters might be fatal, by comparison the largest standard syringe used for the purpose of injecting insulin has a capacity of one milliliter). About the only place where Zwartboek departs from reality is the rapid onset of hypoglycemic symptoms and how little our heroine eats to counter the attack, but these points can be explained away by complex factors. Verhoeven has shown the right way to portray diabetes in Zwartboek.
Another problem with the vast majority of World War II films is that the good guys are shown as so very good and the bad guys so very, very bad. Zwartboek, like Soldaat Van Oranje, shows that there were good Dutchmen as well as bad Dutchmen before taking the bold step of showing that there were also good Nazis and bad Nazis. Sebastian Koch shines in his portrayal of what we see at first as a very bad Nazi until understanding of the situation and political backstabbing motivate him to take up the cause of good. But it is a scene in a prison for accused collaborators after the war is over that will be burned into my memory forever. For the most part, Verhoeven has shown us heroic Dutchmen who resisted the occupation in any way they can, but then he turns our perceptions right on their head by showing how they celebrate their victory. Carice Van Houten acts with a grace and dignity throughout the film, but it is when her character's own countrymen are dumping the camp's filth upon her that Houten really shines.
In contrast to most of Verhoeven's films, Zwartboek is mostly told in flashback. But it is the scenes set over a decade after the end of the war that really seal the deal. When we are first shown Rachel, she is an ageing teacher in a school within a camp located in what the audience would presume to be the Israel of the 1950s. We are given some hints that the war has caused her to grow old well before her time, but it is not until we see her again at the end of the film that we fully understand. As she leads her family back into the camp to the sounds of sirens, and we see soldiers lining up behind wire fences, we see Verhoeven's most subtle and effective use of symbolism ever. Yes, Leonard Maltin, Verhoeven knows WHEN to be subtle. What one takes from this scene depends a lot on what they take in before they see it, but to me, it symbolises the fact that no matter where Rachel goes from now on, she will always be in some way stuck in the Netherlands of 1944.
Like all Verhoeven films, Zwartboek is bloody and graphic. People are shot, stabbed, beaten, tortured, and sometimes all of the above. Paul Verhoeven has said previously that his goal is to be completely open in how he films a story, and Zwartboek is one of his most open films to date. Without the MPAA or American political system breathing down his neck, the honesty Verhoeven brings to Zwartboek reinforces the tragic nature of the story. The film also contains what would have to be the single most *subtle* death Verhoeven has ever portrayed on film. Yet, in the mind of the intelligent audience that he is catering to, it comes across as also being one of the most gruesome. In this day when directors attempt to shock us by severing ears without giving us a context (or a realistic amount of blood for that matter), Verhoeven's honesty and educated approach is king. In a way, the symbolic scene I just mentioned also symbolises how Verhoeven apparently remembers World War II, and he is utterly unflinching in demonstrating how that affects him to this day.
Zwartboek is the epitome of a ten out of ten film. Once, I told a relative that if I were offered a dollar to let Verhoeven adapt one of my writings into a film, or a billion to let Peter Jackson do the same, I would choose Verhoeven every time. Zwartboek is a perfect demonstration of why.
Now, onto the reasons why Zwartboek is the best thing I have seen in twenty years. There are a few films that have attempted to use diabetes as a plot device in the past. Thy Neighbour's Wife and Memento are easily two of the worst recent examples. Zwartboek avoids their mistakes by bearing in mind that killing someone with insulin requires that someone's trust, even if it is gained through deceit. It also requires a larger amount of insulin than shown in most films where this device is used. Zwartboek shows a bit of a hint at just how much (five milliliters might be fatal, by comparison the largest standard syringe used for the purpose of injecting insulin has a capacity of one milliliter). About the only place where Zwartboek departs from reality is the rapid onset of hypoglycemic symptoms and how little our heroine eats to counter the attack, but these points can be explained away by complex factors. Verhoeven has shown the right way to portray diabetes in Zwartboek.
Another problem with the vast majority of World War II films is that the good guys are shown as so very good and the bad guys so very, very bad. Zwartboek, like Soldaat Van Oranje, shows that there were good Dutchmen as well as bad Dutchmen before taking the bold step of showing that there were also good Nazis and bad Nazis. Sebastian Koch shines in his portrayal of what we see at first as a very bad Nazi until understanding of the situation and political backstabbing motivate him to take up the cause of good. But it is a scene in a prison for accused collaborators after the war is over that will be burned into my memory forever. For the most part, Verhoeven has shown us heroic Dutchmen who resisted the occupation in any way they can, but then he turns our perceptions right on their head by showing how they celebrate their victory. Carice Van Houten acts with a grace and dignity throughout the film, but it is when her character's own countrymen are dumping the camp's filth upon her that Houten really shines.
In contrast to most of Verhoeven's films, Zwartboek is mostly told in flashback. But it is the scenes set over a decade after the end of the war that really seal the deal. When we are first shown Rachel, she is an ageing teacher in a school within a camp located in what the audience would presume to be the Israel of the 1950s. We are given some hints that the war has caused her to grow old well before her time, but it is not until we see her again at the end of the film that we fully understand. As she leads her family back into the camp to the sounds of sirens, and we see soldiers lining up behind wire fences, we see Verhoeven's most subtle and effective use of symbolism ever. Yes, Leonard Maltin, Verhoeven knows WHEN to be subtle. What one takes from this scene depends a lot on what they take in before they see it, but to me, it symbolises the fact that no matter where Rachel goes from now on, she will always be in some way stuck in the Netherlands of 1944.
Like all Verhoeven films, Zwartboek is bloody and graphic. People are shot, stabbed, beaten, tortured, and sometimes all of the above. Paul Verhoeven has said previously that his goal is to be completely open in how he films a story, and Zwartboek is one of his most open films to date. Without the MPAA or American political system breathing down his neck, the honesty Verhoeven brings to Zwartboek reinforces the tragic nature of the story. The film also contains what would have to be the single most *subtle* death Verhoeven has ever portrayed on film. Yet, in the mind of the intelligent audience that he is catering to, it comes across as also being one of the most gruesome. In this day when directors attempt to shock us by severing ears without giving us a context (or a realistic amount of blood for that matter), Verhoeven's honesty and educated approach is king. In a way, the symbolic scene I just mentioned also symbolises how Verhoeven apparently remembers World War II, and he is utterly unflinching in demonstrating how that affects him to this day.
Zwartboek is the epitome of a ten out of ten film. Once, I told a relative that if I were offered a dollar to let Verhoeven adapt one of my writings into a film, or a billion to let Peter Jackson do the same, I would choose Verhoeven every time. Zwartboek is a perfect demonstration of why.