Paul Verhoeven is best known for blockbusters like Total Recall, Starship Troopers and Basic Instinct, but not perhaps for moving drama. In Zwartboek he takes his mastery of glossy suspense and action and combines this with a genuinely affecting story to produce a grown-up film that crosses genres. This is a dazzling rollercoaster of a thriller, producing a complex vision of a complex time in European history.
Set in Holland in the final months of the Second World War, the story focuses on Jewish singer Rachel Stein (Carice van Houten) when she is forced to flee her hiding place. After her family is brutally murdered in front of her, she joins the Dutch Resistance and goes deep undercover in the occupiers’ headquarters. What follows is a labyrinth plot with many twists and turns. It is an unusual film because it sometimes has the feel of a Hollywood thriller, yet is in Dutch and German. It has moments of shocking violence, but also many deeply emotional and poignant scenes. It is also unusual for producing a very morally complex story. No-one is shown as wholly good or evil as an empire crumbles, and peace holds as many problems as the war. Verhoeven even produces that rarest of things, a sympathetic Nazi; Müntze (Sebastian Koch) is a lonely man who has also suffered, and his relationship with Rachel really is the film’s suprising heart.
The world Verhoeven has created is fully realised. The sets and costumes range from grimy and squalid to lush and luxurious, always looking exactly right. It is not surprising to learn that this is the most expensive Dutch film ever made. But the best thing about this film is undoubtably van Houten, who creates a wonderful heroine. Carice van Houten looks like a grown-up Kirsten Dunst, if Kirsten Dunst could act. She is radient in the party scenes, wearing stunning red satin as she partakes in caberet and espionage. Films often purport to have strong female characters, but they end up like something from a computer game, all high-kicking karate and tight jumpsuits. Rachel, unhampered by American cinema’s backwards view of feminism, is a truly brave and intelligent woman who thinks on her feet and is fighting for what is right. She uses her sexuality to her advantage and is always in complete control, even in the most tragic circumstances.
My only criticism would be that the story is told as a flashback, meaning that we already partly know the outcome of events. Leaving the ending a mystery would have kept the audience even more on the edge their seat. No matter, for this is still an extremely exhilerating ride through Europe at its darkest moment, full of double-crossing, intrigue, and love.
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