Review: Zwartboek
Or, Black Book, as the title will be as the Dutch representative to vie for one of the five empty spots on the Oscar nomination list for Foreign Film. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I went to see it. Maybe it was just Paul Verhoeven’s name that attracted me (translates to nudity, for the film facts challenged among you). Whatever it may be, people think I’m a violent person. Whenever I go see a Dutch movie, I take a baseball bat with me. People are wrong though, as I only take the bat with me to knock myself out, or at least, knock myself senseless. After all, that’s been the overall experience I’ve had in my life.
Strangely enough, I didn’t have to touch it for the whole duration of the movie (while it ran a bit long for my taste). The acting was on a few levels quite satisfactory (though some overacting crossed the line here and there, and I still wanted to use the bat on Johnny de Mol), and the story, which wasn’t overly complicated, had a good pace. On screen, budget restraints weren’t obvious, and Paul’s Hollywood experience made action scenes look fluidly professional.
So I probably can leave my bat at home for the next movie from Paul Verhoeven (already one planned for next year), but that’s the only exception I’m willing to make for now, when it comes down to Dutch movies.7.