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Film: Blind Date
UK Release date: 23rd May 2011
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 170 mins
Director: Stanley Tucci & Theo van Gogh
Starring: Renée Fokker, Peer Mascini, Roeland Fernhout, Wouter Brave, Jan Jaspers
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Romance
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Netherlands/USA/UK
Language: Dutch/English
Review by: Calum Reed
Those mystified by the attempts of the characters in Lars von Trier’s Antichrist to deal with the grief of their dead child may be equally puzzled by Dutch director Theo van Gogh’s 1996 film, Blind Date. Like the currently-troubled Dogme founder, van Gogh’s reputation as a cinematic provocateur caused controversy, reaching its peak in his critique of the treatment of female Muslims in 2004 short film, Submission. While von Trier’s recent behaviour at Cannes may lead to him becoming somewhat of a pariah on the festival circuit, van Gogh faced an eminently more dangerous opposition to his work: less than two months after Submission aired on television, he was assassinated by a Muslim extremist.
Blind Date opens with Renee Fokker’s Katja entering a rather tacky-looking lounge bar, in which she proceeds to first order a drink, before, secondly, making an enquiry of the whereabouts of Pom (Peer Mascini). As it happens, Pom has answered her advertisement in the personal columns for a “sweet, honest man” considerably older than herself, and as the two have dinner, they engage in the kind of small talk you’d expect from people meeting for the first time. What quickly becomes apparent is that these two are not meeting for the first time, and as their exchange accelerates towards a more volatile tone, we learn that they are actually married, and are heavily resentful of how their lives have turned out.
The film is divided into chapters based upon the personal ads, which are often shifting in nature according to what Katja and Pom want to learn from each other. As they constantly redress their desires, they discuss the reasons for their marital estrangement – nameably the death of their daughter in a car crash, and the implications of that event on their sexual relationship. During the course of Blind Date, they each adopt interrogative and submissive roles; including he as a reporter and blind man, and she as a psychologist and dancer…
Scissors and clamps are, thankfully, deemed unnecessary for this project about a couple trying to surmise what their marriage means anymore, but that doesn’t make these parents any less radical in their method of confronting harsh realities. As a conceptualised view of self-imposed ‘marriage therapy’, Blind Date holds weight: how to resolve a marriage where both parties can’t be in the same room together without relinquishing their identities? The nature of this coping technique, as a manufactured paradox of escape and confrontation, creates intrigue, and the tense interplay between Fokker and Mascini offers a tentatively balanced dynamic to all of their roleplays. The schematics of the film as a confessional, insidiously motivated acting duel inevitably leads to bouts of self-consciousness, but this doesn’t particularly hamper it until the later scenes.
Since most of Blind Date is essentially acting as a divulgement of exposition, it commands attention while things feel relatively fresh, but when the film runs out of backstory to reveal (and interesting ways to reveal it), the exercise becomes rather stagnant and roundabout. An intermittent voiceover accompaniment by the couple’s dead daughter adds to the extremely macabre humour intoned in some of the more sensationalist crevices of the script, as she launches into critiques of how they’ve behaved after her demise. It’s a device that feels far too facetious for a film that’s banding around so much emotional baggage, and a weak move to realise the daughter as a proponent of the present rather than the past.
While a far more seasoned veteran of the acting branch, Stanley Tucci has tried his hand at directing no less than four times, the most successful of which is Big Night, his 1996 collaboration with Campbell Scott. Tucci’s decision to remake the late van Gogh’s film in 2007 provoked surprised intrigue, and the following year it had its North American premiere at the Sundance Film Festival. While essentially a faithful remake, Blind Date (2008) doesn’t copy the original shot-for-shot, altering the sequence of events slightly to make more sense of the couple’s actions. Tucci also elects to alter the names of the central characters to Don and Janna, casting himself in the former role and Patricia Clarkson to star opposite.
Those familiar with Tucci and Clarkson’s recent partnership as Emma Stone’s easy-going parents in teen comedy Easy A will likely be a little aghast at how far removed from that wheelhouse Blind Date requires them to be. As two actors particularly excellent at instilling characters with natural qualities, this warring couple (no less conceited in nature than in the original) are far too alien and ugly for this acting duo to get to grips with. Playing against-type, the two expose the script’s manipulation of emotion far more than is present in the original - its dialogue falling flat with the familiar, composed actors unconvincing in alluding to the hatred and contempt Mascini and Fokker assumed in its predecessor.
The failure of Tucci’s version isn’t particularly consigned to either acting or casting errors, but reads as more of a misjudged endeavour entirely to take on a project that feels so heavily a product of its then-director. Van Gogh can coax some tremendous moments from his two stars because he’s so heavily involved in its authorial elements; while Tucci remains a sure admirer of the original (even tinkering with it somewhat), he’s still primarily an onlooker staging a reconstruction.
If 1996’s Blind Date was an experiment with mixed degrees of success, its descendant is an ill-conceived stab in the dark. Van Gogh introduced a gimmick capable of luring an audience into a state of studious fascination, but even then that gimmick didn’t have the legs to last eighty minutes. It’s unsurprising, then, that the mishandled remake feels like even more of a drag – loaded with two of the finest actors of their generation, but who are completely unsuited to the darker, and, frankly, bizarre complexities of this particular story. However seedy it sounds, one wishes there were more columns in the vein of ‘Man Seeks Less Talk And More Action’, since a dearth of impact is the chief common denominator between the two episodes. CR
Film: Blind Date
Year of production: 1996
UK Release date: 9th May 2011 (part of The Theo Van Gogh Collection)
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Theo van Gogh
Starring: Renée Fokker, Peer Mascini, Roeland Fernhout, Wouter Brave, Jan Jaspers
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Netherlands
Language: Dutch
Review by: Sarah Hill
When Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh died in 2004, aged 47, he left behind a controversial legacy. A relative of the renowned artist, Vincent van Gogh, Theo van Gogh was a provocative newspaper columnist who was a staunch advocate of freedom of speech and used his columns as a platform from which to voice his opinions about well-known public figures. He was particularly critical of the treatment of women in some Islamic societies. This was highly evident within his 2004 film Submission, for which he received numerous death threats. Theo van Gogh was assassinated by Dutch-Moroccan Mohammed Bouyeri on 2nd November 2004. Van Gogh’s life story is certainly dramatic; therefore, it is little wonder that in the years following his death, Hollywood has remade some of his most well-known films, giving him the kind of international recognition that he never received during his lifetime. However, on 9th May 2011, Network Releasing are releasing the first DVD collection of van Gogh’s work in the UK (The Theo Van Gogh Collection), which features arguably some of his best films. The first film in this three-film collection is the 1996 film Blind Date.
Pom (Peer Mascini) is a failed comedian. His wife, Katja (Renée Fokker) is still mourning the death of their 3-year-old daughter. They regularly pretend to be other people by placing adverts in the ‘lonely hearts’ column of their local newspaper, all of which are targeted at each other. With their new personas, they go on weekly dates, often to the same bar, under the observant gaze of the same barman (Roeland Fernhout).
The film is narrated by their deceased child, whose voice innocently informs the viewer that “mum and dad like to play games” and explores the couple’s attempts to simultaneously escape their grief and reconnect with each other...
Blind Date has a very interesting premise in that it examines the relationship between a couple who, it seems, can only communicate with each other when they are pretending to be other people. The film also has a pervading sense of darkness. This is evident from some of the earliest scenes within the film. On the first date that takes place within the lifespan of the film, we witness Pom, as a barman, chatting to Katja in a bar. It begins as a typically flirtatious conversation between a barman and a female costumer. However, it soon becomes much more menacing as Pom decides to tell Katja some ‘truths’ and refuses to let her leave by forcing her to partake in karaoke. The image of Katja sobbing as she sings jars greatly with Pom’s dancing to an upbeat song. It’s like witnessing a car crash: horrible to watch, but almost impossible to look away from.
The unease continues as each date reveals more and more painful details about their past, such as the fact that Pom once raped Katja. This is act of violence is mentioned on numerous occasions and forms a significant part of the verbal battles which take place between the couple. Their differing perspectives convey that they really don’t understand each other; they are talking at each other rather than to each other. During a scene in which they go dancing, Katja tells Pom: “You’re out of step.” This line succinctly sums up the characters, for they are not just out of step with the music, but out of step with each other. As they dance, the camera swirls around them; it’s highly unsettling and the circular motion seems to suggest that there is no end to their verbal and emotional battles - they are trapped.
However, the fact that the film depicts two people locked in constant conflict with each other means that it does, at times, lack pace, as the conversations tend to be very repetitive, and although this adds to the feeling of confinement within the film, it can also become somewhat irritating. There is also a sense that the same effect could have been achieved with fewer dates and a slightly shorter running time.
Despite the film’s claustrophobic and sinister feel, it does contain a number of comedic moments, albeit of the very dark kind. When Pom places an advert stating: “Serious reporter seeks aggressive woman,” he goes along to meet Katja at a restaurant, where she greets him with a forceful and well-timed punch to the face. The film’s blend of menace and humour calls for good performances from its actors and Renée Fokker, in particular, doesn’t disappoint. She moves effortlessly through a range of emotions, such as anger, grief, love and hate, and serves to make the film’s ending all the more convincing.
Blind Date is an unusual and interesting film, which is dark, unsettling and claustrophobic. Ultimately, however, it is a tragic film and although its ending is almost inevitable, this makes it no less upsetting. SH
Film: Interview
Year of production: 2003
UK Release date: 9th May 2011 (part of The Theo Van Gogh Collection)
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 89 mins
Director: Theo van Gogh
Starring: Katja Schuurman, Pierre Bokma, Theo Maassen, Ellen Ten Damme, Michiel de Jong
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Netherlands
Language: Dutch
Review by: Sarah Hill
2003’s Interview is the last film within The Theo Van Gogh Collection. Whilst many may be more familiar with the 2007 remake starring Sienna Miller and Steve Buscemi, the Dutch original clearly exhibits van Gogh’s auteurist characteristics – dramatic two-handers between a man and a woman who engage in verbal battles – to such an extent that it becomes almost self-referential. Interview is also perhaps the most naturalistic of the three films in this collection, largely due to the fact that it was filmed over five nights in the real-life apartment of its star, Katja Shuurman.
On the night the government collapses, serious political journalist Pierre Peters (Pierre Bokma) is sent to interview the Netherlands’ biggest female soap opera star, much to his chagrin. However, Katja (Katja Schuurman) soon dispels all of his preconceptions about film female stars as the pair engage in an intense battle of wits.
Both of are in procession of enormous secrets and each one is determined to find out what the other is hiding...
It has to be said that Interview begins on a very comical note. As cynical journalist Pierre Peders greets Katja from her car, she appears to embody all his preconceived notions regarding female actresses: pretty but vacant - all “air, sawdust and silicon.” So ditzy, in fact, that she accidently leaves the handbrake off and has to react quickly to prevent the car from rolling away (this was allegedly a real error made by actress Katja Schuurman during filming that van Gogh decided to leave in the final edit). However, appearances can be deceptive and once the interview begins, Katja proves just how smart she really is. Van Gogh cuts steadily between equal close-ups of the pair, as they sit opposite each other, face-to-face, awarding them equal status, as Katja watches Pierre with narrowed eyes, all the time trying to find out as much about him as he knows about her.
It is obvious that Katja is highly astute. She knows exactly what kind of role is expected of her and – as she lounges in deliberately seductive poses - she proves that she knows just how to perform this role. It seems that this idea of performance is the strongest thread which runs through all of the films in the collection. However, in behaving in this manner, she is also clearly mocking the role that the media has forced her into. She claims that men like women to wear fishnet stockings and heels because it means that the woman “has trouble walking and she is imprisoned in those nets,” and in making this assertion, she is reflecting on the inherently patriarchal structure of the film industry and the objectification of women in cinema.
In addition to interesting characters, another fascinating feature of the film is the fact that, unlike the other films in The Theo Van Gogh Collection, it is very kinetic. It’s certainly a lot less claustrophobic, but this does not mean that the film lacks intensity. Van Gogh indulges in a three-camera set up to capture everything in the mise-en-scène, as Katja strides from room to room in an electrifying performance that fizzes and sparks as if she is constantly close to erupting. Indeed, there is even often a punch bag hanging from the ceiling, which is visible in many of the wide shots, as a sign of the verbal sparring that is taking place between the characters, as they continuously try to break each other down in an attempt to force the other person to reveal their dark secret.
As the verbal sparring escalates, so does the tension. Pierre and Katja communicate via a series of quick-fire responses, which, at times, display slightly sinister sexual undertones, as their faces are almost pressed against together, with Kajta even going as far as to frantically kiss Pierre. However, it is never clear what the characters’ true feelings towards one another are because they are adept performers who are accustomed to getting what they want.
They continue to tease each other, with Katja going as far as to ask: “Is this some kind of word game?” It is because this is what van Gogh does best. He keeps the viewer guessing until the end; it’s never entirely clear who is ultimately going to win until the final minutes of the film and only then is the viewer allowed to breathe. The serene and soulful sound of Dusty Springfield singing ‘See All Her Faces’, which accompanies the closing credits, is the perfect antidote to the tension within the film, whilst simultaneously paying tribute to all that has preceded this moment by acknowledging that there are many more aspects to Katja, and also to Pierre, than first though.
Interview is certainly the most accomplished film in The Theo Van Gogh Collection. It contains excellent performances from its protagonists, with Pierre Bokma’s calm manner providing the perfect contrast to Katja Shuurman’s frenzied emotional state. The film has great pace, which is sometimes lacking in the other films, and it utilises van Gogh’s key themes most fully. Completed only a year before Theo van Gogh died, it is a reminder that European cinema lost a superb filmmaker. SH
Film: 1-900
Year of production: 2004
UK Release date: 9th May 2011 (part of The Theo Van Gogh Collection)
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 87 mins
Director: Theo van Gogh
Starring: Ariane Schluter, Ad van Kempen
Genre: Drama/Romance
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Netherlands
Language: Dutch
Review by: Sarah Hill
If the film choices for The Theo Van Gogh Collection demonstrate anything, it’s that the director’s work is defined by a very specific set of characteristics. His films are often claustrophobic domestic dramas played out between two characters, usually a man and woman, in order to highlight the importance of communication. They are also usually concerned with the ideas of fantasy and performance. These elements were clearly evident within the first film from this collection, Blind Date (1996), but they were firmly established two years before in 1-900, originally titled 06.
Theo van Gogh’s 1-900 tells the story of two professionals, Thomas (Ad van Kempen) and Sarah (Ariane Schluter), who meet through a phone sex line. Although they promise to never meet in person, they embark on an unusual relationship as they call each other every Thursday.
However, what starts off as a way for two lonely people to have some fun and indulge in their sexual fantasies suddenly becomes altogether more sinister...
An automated message plays over a black screen. The viewer is told to dial a selection number. “Hello, my name is Sarah, 30, with a higher education in every respect,” says a female voice. “I just love margaritas, bobsleigh and the smell of gasoline. My number is 3054.”
That’s it. That’s the audience’s introduction to the female protagonist. The viewer is then introduced to Thomas in a similar manner. It’s clear from this introduction that 1-900 has a very specific, stylised set-up: the emphasis is very much on the spoken word and the unreliable nature of phone conversations. This is highlighted very cleverly at the start of the film because even when the viewer is introduced to the characters visually, they are filmed in near darkness: Thomas sits at a desk in total darkness whilst Sarah is shown in silhouette, facing away from the camera. A small glimmer of red in each frame hinting at the possibility of danger. However, even without the benefit of lighting, it is obvious that these characters are not at all like the people they are claiming to be.
As their conversations progress, they become increasingly sexual and the line between performance and reality begins to blur as Thomas and Sarah start to adopt the appearance of the personas that they have constructed for themselves. During one phone call, Sarah lounges seductively in the sexy underwear she is always telling Thomas about whilst he continues with his mundane work. This is then immediately followed by another phone call in which Thomas is shown working out in his gym clothes, presumably in an attempt to get the body that he has told Sarah he already has, whilst she flicks idly through a magazine. The juxtaposition of these two scenes creates a welcome moment of subtle comedy, something which van Gogh is particularly good at.
Whilst the conversations between the pair grow ever more sexual, they also begin to display highly sinister undertones, another of van Gogh’s common traits. At one point, Thomas conducts a ‘sex survey’ by asking Sarah greatly inappropriate questions, telling her: “I’m in your life; I’m in your soul.” This line reveals just how emotionally attached to one another they have become and expertly captures the sinister sense of claustrophobia within the film, a feeling which is also encouraged by the camera work. Nearly every shot is a close-up and the characters are often framed by shelves and other furniture, which serves to enhance the film’s sense of confinement. It seems that the characters cannot escape the situation they have created and neither can the audience; they, too, are wholly part of this self-contained world. Although this claustrophobia is one of the film’s strengths, it is also, to an extent, one of its weaknesses. The entire film is a series of phone calls between the characters; the viewer is never offered the chance to escape, the chance to breathe. Therefore, the film often feels slightly repetitive, particularly with regards to the countless occurrences of masturbation, which soon become tiresome.
On the other hand, the aforementioned weaknesses within the film are tamed largely by the performances of the actors. Ariane Schluter, in particular, gives an emotional yet realistic performance. Without giving away any spoilers, her performance during the film’s final few scenes is very engaging, as she moves from her usual flirtatious manner to stunned and devastated after being told something which hits her like a punch in the stomach. The full force of this is also felt by the viewer, as the camera remains focused on her throughout.
Although its subject matter won’t be to everyone’s taste, 1-900 is a well-constructed, well-acted film which displays many of the hallmarks of van Gogh’s work. Whilst it may run for slightly longer than it should, it nevertheless evokes the strong sense of claustrophobia experienced by two people who have become dangerously attached to one another, locked in a an emotional battle that can only end when one of them hangs up the phone for good. SH
