Slow Criticism 2013: The Deflowering of Eva van End

Pamela Biénzobas checks in from Santiago (Chile) to report on The Deflowering of Eva van End, a bitterly comic compendium of Dutch cliché’s and simplifications, laughing harshly at a sort of Dutch bestiary.

The first time I ever traveled to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean (ok, not of the world), it was to the Netherlands – for the IFFR, of course. One evening, while discussing the demographical limits of the Dutch language, I heard a funny story: someone told me that when the United States was established, the Founding Fathers voted to decide whether the official language would be English or Dutch, and the former won by just one vote. However, this anecdote seems to be a widespread myth… but regarding German, not Dutch.

My mother tongue being one the most far-reaching in the world, spoken by the vast majority of the continent I come from (and across all of my country’s borders), it’s hard to imagine the communication barrier it must mean to know that you can only exchange with relatively few people (and just a few of your neighbours) if you don’t learn a foreign language, ideally as fluently as a native speaker. Pushing it further: if you don’t reach out to the world and do all you can to touch it from your lonesome, yet extremely civilized and privileged position.

Perhaps that could explain the supremacy of political correctness; and maybe a certain inferiority complex rooted in history, regarding all things German, could explain the mistake that wanted Dutch to have almost been today’s international language. This horrible simplification is definitely not my interpretation. It’s not just a matter of a moral refusal of caricatures: I couldn’t even pretend to know the Dutch culture or its clichés well enough to play with stereotypes. But a Dutch person might…

Michiel ten Horn bases his feature-length debut precisely on those clichés and simplifications, laughing harshly at a sort of Dutch bestiary. The bitterish comedy The Deflowering of Eva van End (De ontmaagding van Eva van End), programmed in the Bright Future section, follows a certain tradition that could draw a circle around such diverse films as Teorema by Pier Paolo Pasolini, Dry Cleaning (Nettoyage à sec) by Anne Fontaine and François Ozon’s recent In the House (Dans la maison). In all of them, a mysterious and blondish youngster (ok, Terence Stamp was far from blond but he could fit the role with his deep blue eyes) shatters a family’s apparent stability by one way or another seducing its members.

Here the incarnation of utter perfection – in the Van End family’s eyes – is, moreover, German. Evert (who works in a ‘frikandel’ factory) and Etty (a bitter housewife) are about to celebrate their Silver Wedding. Model-son Erwin, the quintessence of political correctness, is about to move out of the house at 21, to live with his girlfriend Mardou. And the loud, self-centered teenager (and frikandel-eating champion) Manuel is permanently making noise and drawing attention to himself. So no one even hears when graceless, shy Eva – as uncool as a teenager can get – announces the arrival of a German exchange student, as part of a school program.

Why would a group of young Teutons spend two weeks with Dutch families, anyways? To practice their English, of course! But that’s not all Veit is going to practice with the Van Ends. He will become a reflection of all they aspire to in life, especially in the three adults. Etty finds understanding, recognition, and somehow the permission to think of herself and try to go spiritual. Evert sees a possible higher sense to his comfortable life in charity. Acne-ridden Erwin, however, becomes aware of his physical imperfection and loses his fragile balance. Manuel is drowning in raging jealousy now that Veit has all the attention he used to get from the school bimbos. And Eva… where and who is Eva? She just might be the only one to acquire some lucidity in the desire Veit arouses.

Each character functions pretty much as an archetype of different aspects of the Dutch caricature, and Veit is the cliché not of Germans but of what the Dutch seem to see in Germans. The film doesn’t care about giving its characters a personality. It doesn’t need to. On the contrary, the clichés must be as overt as possible to make fun of them. And ultimately, it works more as an accumulation of funny situations and portraits than as a developing story.

One aspect that is dealt with extensively is the good-conscious disposition towards racial prejudice and kind-hearted simplification. When Evert goes on his charity frenzy to help young Ngiri, it’s his black colleague who mocks his naivety, warning him that Africans are well-known con artists. What’s ‘Africa’ anyways? Ngiri comes from Africa, more specifically from the slums. Of which city, in which country? What difference would that make?

And tellingly, when kind, smart and vegetarian Erwin totally loses it, after he eats his Happy Meal, he makes the same racist joke that he had recently censored his younger brother for. And it all seems to be liberating.

In the closing scene (out of respect for people who may be very touchy about this: SPOILER ALERT), everything seems to be coming back to normal again, after the near-catastrophe operated some slight salutary changes. The Van Ends celebrate their Silver Wedding in their lovely back yard. They even manage to realize that Veit is a "braggart", and dare to kindly joke about it. Among the guests, two girls stand by the swimming pool in their bathing suits. They appear to be almost anorexic, and their awkward, self-conscious attitude is strikingly reminiscent of some of Rineke Dijkstra’s beach portraits. The funny thing is that Dijkstra actually didn’t take those photographs in the Netherlands.

In the end, clichés aren’t really about how people are, but about how people see. And this is just one subjective impression of a Dutch filmmaker’s social-self-portrait, as seen from the other side of the world.

Pamela Biénzobas is a Chilean freelance critic and journalist based in Paris. She is a co-founder of Revista de Cine Mabuse.cl.