Paul Verhoeven's signature ironic detachment from the graphic violence in his work has reasonably been attributed to his experiences as a young Dutch child during the Nazi Occupation. What I've always admired about him has been his use of sardonic indifference with films like RoboCop, Starship Troopers and Spetters, but with Soldier of Orange, there doesn't seem to be anything discerning his vision from that of other war film directors who've had less or no eyewitness or everyday experience with war. Though thankfully it is not without unabashed Dutchness---the Queen is anything but strict with her loyal underlings' sense of manners, sex and exhibitionist affection is in no way taboo in any presented dynamic, and Rutger Hauer's response to his sometime lover spitting beer in his face is "I love you"---its framework is, in a sense, American. It is a spy thriller that begins and ends like a coming-of-age film about a circle of aloof, airy friends, some of whom make it to the end and some of whom don't.
In some way, upon reflection, I can see how this early effort by Verhoeven, and his two regular pre-U.S. stars Hauer and Jeroen Krabbe, benefits from its incongruous lack of involvement. It is the story of people who don't understand the import of what is truly happening until it literally hits home and find that loyalty grows to be more and more of an illusion. Thus, it seems to aesthetically make a degree of sense for the story to unfold at arm's length, as if we can never quite know who will live, die or turn on us. But still, wouldn't this film be so much better if it did not keep its distance? Isn't it the point for us to feel betrayed and angered by the unraveling of events? In any case, I could still be wrong, as the cliché love triangles, token romantic interests and ignored moral dichotomies of seemingly incidental things certain characters do abound.
Perhaps Verhoeven was not yet ready to make the Dutch Resistance film he knew he should make. His filmography can often look like the work of someone who is cynically desensitized to violence and other sorts of cruelty, but it can also often look like the work of someone's defense mechanism against how it has affected him. It wasn't until 2006 when Black Book was released when we saw his true and personal vision of a story set during this time. We have authentic emotional reactions to everything that happens in that tremendous film, which as it turns out is surely Verhoeven's best work, as if his previous films had all been his way of wrestling with the feelings with which he had to come to terms in order to make it, just as the Dutch in this film seem to remain aloof, perhaps in quiet, ambiguous defense of what could happen to them at any moment.
In some way, upon reflection, I can see how this early effort by Verhoeven, and his two regular pre-U.S. stars Hauer and Jeroen Krabbe, benefits from its incongruous lack of involvement. It is the story of people who don't understand the import of what is truly happening until it literally hits home and find that loyalty grows to be more and more of an illusion. Thus, it seems to aesthetically make a degree of sense for the story to unfold at arm's length, as if we can never quite know who will live, die or turn on us. But still, wouldn't this film be so much better if it did not keep its distance? Isn't it the point for us to feel betrayed and angered by the unraveling of events? In any case, I could still be wrong, as the cliché love triangles, token romantic interests and ignored moral dichotomies of seemingly incidental things certain characters do abound.
Perhaps Verhoeven was not yet ready to make the Dutch Resistance film he knew he should make. His filmography can often look like the work of someone who is cynically desensitized to violence and other sorts of cruelty, but it can also often look like the work of someone's defense mechanism against how it has affected him. It wasn't until 2006 when Black Book was released when we saw his true and personal vision of a story set during this time. We have authentic emotional reactions to everything that happens in that tremendous film, which as it turns out is surely Verhoeven's best work, as if his previous films had all been his way of wrestling with the feelings with which he had to come to terms in order to make it, just as the Dutch in this film seem to remain aloof, perhaps in quiet, ambiguous defense of what could happen to them at any moment.