Not Hollow, Man

Since his expatriation from the Netherlands, Dutch director Paul Verhoeven has garnered a reputation as the prototypical Hollywood, studio filmmaker, generating titillating, if lackluster films with a predilection for unabashed T&A and violence. Criticized for pandering to base sensationalism and producing films devoid of profundity, Verhoeven has never been the crowned king of the art house film. His collaborations with notorious screenwriter Joe Eszterhas have spawned such cinematic gems as the much ridiculed Showgirls and the infamous Basic Instinct, known primarily for its salacious money shot. Though his film Starship Troopers will be spared my snarky comments (since its satirical and self-reflexive tone actually appealed to me), it's difficult to endorse many Verhoeven films as anything more than mindless entertainment.

In a surprising turn, Verhoeven recently returned to his native land (and native tongue) to film the uncharacteristically tame (relatively speaking) and more mature World War II saga, Black Book (Zwartboek). To briefly summarize, Black Book follows Rachel Stein, a Jewish woman who dyes her hair blond and changes her name in order to pass as a gentile during WWII. In her newfound identity as "Ellis," she uses her feminine wiles to infiltrate powerful Nazi circles and spy on their military operations for the good of the Resistance. Does the film have violence? Yes. Does the film have sex? Oh, hell yes. But the sexuality and violence are of an arguably different nature than Verhoeven's previous work would suggest.

Instead of fetishizing nudity in a prurient manner, Black Book is filled with what I'll call "matter-of-fact" nudity. What I mean is that nudity is neither shied away from nor exploited in the film. Nudity occurs where it would likely occur in real life. When German soldiers strip the bodies of dead Jews for their jewelry, we see them strip the bodies. When Rachel dyes her pubic hair blond as a final touch in her "gentile transformation," we actually watch her applying the dye to her crotch. When soldiers let loose and harass lascivious women at their parties, the buttoned blouses are ripped off. There is even a full frontal shot of a male walking around naked after a sex romp. Though some modest viewers might find the ubiquitous nudity excessive, I find this approach a refreshing change from the conventions of American cinema. Still stuck between puritanism and exploitation, most American films either preclude nudity from scenes where it would naturally occur (a particular downfall of Spielberg), or employ nudity for the sole purpose of producing sexually gratifying, enticing shots. Nudity is rarely just a state of being. These dichotomous tendencies in American film tend to either coddle us like children who are unequipped to handle the realities of the human body or invite us to perceive our bodies through a sexualized, objectified lens. I was glad that Black Book steered clear of these tendencies to produce a more mature, if still somewhat sexually explicit film.

Despite showing nudity where it would typically occur, the spectacle of the human body was still idealized through the use of glossy cinematography and "romance" lighting. Although there were a couple notable exceptions (the quick male nude scene, for example), virtually all of the instances of nudity were framed by an unmistakably Hollywood aesthetic, where glowing, highly saturated, warm lighting washed out the imperfections, dulled the harsh edges, and generally beautified the scenes to unrealistic proportions.

Verhoeven's oft-criticized use of violence was likewise moderate. Undoubtedly, the violent acts were appropriate given the horrific violence of WWII. There was, however, one scene toward the end that felt like a directorial "cum shot" (a huge vat of human excrement poured onto one of the characters in painstaking detail). Though the shots in the scene were very well composed and the scene was admittedly necessary, I got the sneaking suspicion that Verhoeven included the degrading sequence primarily for spectacle's sake.

Moving beyond the micro to the macro, Black Book has overall redeeming values as well as areas worthy of criticism. Notably, Verhoeven elicited top-notch performances from Carice van Houten and Sebastian Koch. Their acting was truly riveting, especially that of Van Houten, whose convincing portrayal of Rachel/Ellis was at times poignant, at times restrained. The narrative itself was largely entertaining and generally well-structured, though the plot twists toward the end seemed a bit excessive at times. As far as the characters were concerned, Verhoeven tried to blur the lines between good and evil (with varying degrees of success) by giving us a sympathetic Nazi character and fallen Jewish freedom fighters. While the Nazi head honcho, Muntze, did become a subject of endearment, the character roles remained manichaean. The good guys were indubitably good, the bad guys, indubitably bad. There was the veil of subtlety without the actual subtlety.

Moving onto the formalistic elements, the cinematography was well-executed, but many of the shots left something to be desired. There were some great compositions scattered throughout the film, but these took a backseat to more straight-forward and safe shots, which dominated the film. In some ways, the lack of experimentation made it feel like a Hollywood film, until the occasional innovative composition would rear its head and I would be impressed for the moment. The editing was likewise standard, seamless and logical with Classical cutting. But for all its faults, Black Book still kept me entertained. It was certainly leagues above Verhoeven's studio flick, Hollow Man, and for that, I'm thankful.