Offering a
fresh perspective on the German occupation of Europe during World War II, as
well as bracing elements of sex and violence, the epic-length melodrama Soldier of Orange ticks several noteworthy
boxes in film history. At the time of its release, it was the most ambitious
and expensive Dutch film ever made, earning such international accolades as a
Golden Globe nomination for Best Foreign Film. The picture was a milestone in
the career of co-writer/director Paul Verhoeven, and it brought notoriety to
leading man Rutger Hauer. (He soon found his way to Hollywood, and Verhoeven
wasn’t far behind.) Finally, because the picture looks at World War II through
a Dutch prism, Soldier of Orange
became a point of national pride, and was, in 1999, named the second-best Dutch
film of the 20th century. Tellingly, the first-place winner in that ranking was
Turkish Delight (1973), a provocative
romantic film that marked the first Hauer/Verhoeven collaboration.
Based on a
biographical novel by Erik Hazelhoff Roelfzema, Soldier of Orange tells a complex story that sprawls across nearly
a decade of Dutch history. Following a prologue, the movie proper begins at a college
in the late 1930s, with ambitious fraternity pledge Erik (Hauer) experiencing
brutal hazing at the hands of an older student, Guus (Jeroen Krabbé). Feeling
guilty for his behavior, Guus helps Erik get through life, so their fates
become entwined even as history nudges the Netherlands toward involvement in
the war. The movie also tracks the lives of Alex (Derek de Lint) and Robby
(Eddy Habbema), two other members of Erik’s collegiate social circle. Without
getting mired in details, the gist is that Soldier
of Orange follows the way different men react to the invasion of their
country by German forces. Some collaborate, some resist, and some fall victim
to the Third Reich.
In one important episode, Dutch resistance operatives
create a pirate radio network to communicate with Allied forces in England. In
another, Erik and Guus flee the Netherlands by steam ship, then accept orders from
their queen-in-exile, Wilhemina (Andrea Domburg), to return home for a
dangerous covert mission. Several highly eroticized love stories get woven into
the mix, notably a triangle revolving around a British military secretary
(Susan Penhaligon). By turns, the movie features adolescent tomfoolery,
exciting spycraft, horrific torture, sexy romantic interludes, and the
psychological horror of countrymen turning against each other.
Nearly
everything that happens during the 149 fast-paced minutes of Soldier of Orange is interesting, though
tracking all the names and places is challenging. As always, Verhoven’s
filmmaking is emphatic and robust, so even though he’s a skillful storyteller,
he sometimes plows so brazenly into complicated scenes that it’s tricky to
remember who’s doing what to whom and why. It doesn’t help that some of minor
characters are interchangeable, or that Verhoeven mostly portrays Nazis as
one-dimensional monsters. Yet the strongest elements of Soldier of Orange are world-class. Production values, including
re-creations of period costume and design, are impeccable. Hauer and Krabbé
give performances that are, respectively, earnest and sly, so key moments are
specific and vivid. And if Verhoeven occasionally succumbs to his lower
impulses, with overlong scenes of carnality and carnage, that can be forgiven
as a way of imprinting the piece with an authorial stamp.
Whether a resounding
theme emerges, however, is another matter; Soldier
of Orange has so much of everything that it feels more like an informative
miniseries than a purposeful drama. Perhaps that was the idea. Instead of
making a Grand Statement about the Dutch experience of World War II, maybe
Verhoeven and his collaborators meant to show as many dimensions as possible of
that experience. They did so, in forceful and unusual ways.
Soldier of Orange: GROOVY
