Three and a half hours. In each direction. That is how much time I spent traveling (excluding putting up with certain other peoples' bullshit) to get to see Zwartboek ten years ago.
So when I tell you I would gladly let Verhoeven turn one of my manuscripts into a film, understand where I am coming from. Since one of the darkest times in my life in 1988, Verhoeven has taught me more about how to tell a story with feeling and message than anyone else in literary, film, or musical circles. There would be a statue of the man in my private home on the world I would design. But this is not just about Verhoeven. It is about his latest offering in the cinema, a curious rape-revenge story called Elle.
First of all, let us clear something up. Elle is a name given unto many girls at birth, but it is also the French word for "she" or "her". The central character in this tale is actually named Michèle, and she takes some getting used to, as unlike Ellis De Vries or Alex Murphy, Verhoeven does not want you to automatically like her just because she is the star of the story. The film begins with a fairly powerful depiction of her being raped on the kitchen floor of her house. I say powerful because it is repeated several different ways, but it never gets gratuitous or old. She is also raped again during the film, twice, but Verhoeven was paying attention in film school when the professor told the class "if your scene does not tell the audience anything new about anyone or anything in the film, get rid of it". We learn a lot about Michèle during this film, and because she is the most developed, most fully three- dimensional character in Verhoeven's entire career, a lot of what we learn churns our stomachs.
You may have also gotten the impression from certain "journalism" that the film attacks "social justice warriors" or the drive to make the world a place where people other than rich white males can enjoy their lives. This is false. If anything, the film tells us two things. One, the world is not a safe place for women in their homes, in public, or even in bits. Two, simply talking about the problem, as opposed to violently making the people who make the problem stop, will solve nothing.
Pretty much the entire film, we are watching Isabelle Huppert's character, Michèle go through the trials and tribulations of her life after a masked man rapes her in her home. Some might think the film is about the "suspense" of figuring out who this masked attacker is, but it is not. The real meat of the story is in seeing Michèle change as a person. Videos are circulated making light of her being attacked. Messages are sent to her, of a nature that only privileged men could think okay to send. And woven into this are several subthreads about her friends and family, including the fact that her son, in spite of being a foot taller than her or almost anyone else in the story, is in serious need of doing some stones-growing. She tells one man a story about the day her father, a mass murderer, was arrested whilst her ten year old self was standing in the yard, having helped father burn things within the house. This story was in the trailer, and in its proper context it is just as chilling coming out of Michèle's mouth as was the case in the trailer.
On a scale of one to RoboCop or Zwartboek, Elle is about eight. Even Verhoeven's worst films have something about them that makes them stand out from the pack, but Elle is by far his most thought- provoking piece. Long have I said that people who want to feel safe and are not rich white men are going to have to fight for it. I will not spoil the climax of Elle, but I do wonder if Paul overheard me. Paul has effectively sent the Overgrown Baby-focused Hollywood a message in Elle. Specifically, I (Paul) am too good for you. Amen, Paul.
So when I tell you I would gladly let Verhoeven turn one of my manuscripts into a film, understand where I am coming from. Since one of the darkest times in my life in 1988, Verhoeven has taught me more about how to tell a story with feeling and message than anyone else in literary, film, or musical circles. There would be a statue of the man in my private home on the world I would design. But this is not just about Verhoeven. It is about his latest offering in the cinema, a curious rape-revenge story called Elle.
First of all, let us clear something up. Elle is a name given unto many girls at birth, but it is also the French word for "she" or "her". The central character in this tale is actually named Michèle, and she takes some getting used to, as unlike Ellis De Vries or Alex Murphy, Verhoeven does not want you to automatically like her just because she is the star of the story. The film begins with a fairly powerful depiction of her being raped on the kitchen floor of her house. I say powerful because it is repeated several different ways, but it never gets gratuitous or old. She is also raped again during the film, twice, but Verhoeven was paying attention in film school when the professor told the class "if your scene does not tell the audience anything new about anyone or anything in the film, get rid of it". We learn a lot about Michèle during this film, and because she is the most developed, most fully three- dimensional character in Verhoeven's entire career, a lot of what we learn churns our stomachs.
You may have also gotten the impression from certain "journalism" that the film attacks "social justice warriors" or the drive to make the world a place where people other than rich white males can enjoy their lives. This is false. If anything, the film tells us two things. One, the world is not a safe place for women in their homes, in public, or even in bits. Two, simply talking about the problem, as opposed to violently making the people who make the problem stop, will solve nothing.
Pretty much the entire film, we are watching Isabelle Huppert's character, Michèle go through the trials and tribulations of her life after a masked man rapes her in her home. Some might think the film is about the "suspense" of figuring out who this masked attacker is, but it is not. The real meat of the story is in seeing Michèle change as a person. Videos are circulated making light of her being attacked. Messages are sent to her, of a nature that only privileged men could think okay to send. And woven into this are several subthreads about her friends and family, including the fact that her son, in spite of being a foot taller than her or almost anyone else in the story, is in serious need of doing some stones-growing. She tells one man a story about the day her father, a mass murderer, was arrested whilst her ten year old self was standing in the yard, having helped father burn things within the house. This story was in the trailer, and in its proper context it is just as chilling coming out of Michèle's mouth as was the case in the trailer.
On a scale of one to RoboCop or Zwartboek, Elle is about eight. Even Verhoeven's worst films have something about them that makes them stand out from the pack, but Elle is by far his most thought- provoking piece. Long have I said that people who want to feel safe and are not rich white men are going to have to fight for it. I will not spoil the climax of Elle, but I do wonder if Paul overheard me. Paul has effectively sent the Overgrown Baby-focused Hollywood a message in Elle. Specifically, I (Paul) am too good for you. Amen, Paul.