Paul Verhoeven’s filmography, though
praised by many, hardly reads like a list of films critics have swooned
over. Indeed his Showgirls (1995) is often cited as one of the worst films of the
1990s – it is a favorite among the developing rank of trendy “bad movie”
societies. Yet he has made some
culturally significant films and is often financially successful in his endeavors. How strange then that, with his final
Dutch-language work before departing for Hollywood, he choose to make a film
aimed directly at his critical detractors.
He infused The Fourth Man
(1983) with enough religious symbolism to make them certain that it was a
legitimate work of art, and for his efforts was rewarded with a commercial disappointment.
Many have noted that The Fourth Man plays not unlike a
Hitchcock film. It’s likely that
Verhoeven knew what he was doing when he cast his frequent collaborator Renée
Soutendijk and dyed her hair a vibrant blonde as his leading lady. She plays Christine, and independently wealthy
woman who owns a salon and has eyes for Gerard (Jeroen Krabbé), the bisexual
author who comes to lecture at her literary society. When he misses his train back to Amsterdam
after his lecture, she offers him a night of seduction at her spacious
apartment above the beauty parlor. As
they pull up, the neon sign that illuminates the building is on the blink. It’s supposed to read “Sphinx,” (the name of
the parlor) but instead spells “Spin,” the Dutch word for spider, and the
viewer already knows that Gerard is being pulled into a dangerous web.
This is not the first time that a spider
has appeared in the film. The title
sequence shows a Saint Andrews Cross variety (featuring a white cross on its
back) wrapping its prey for later consumption before the camera pulls back to
reveal that it’s web has been spun on a crucifix. Gerard is himself a religious man, and he
feels guilt about his sexual desires, but he nonetheless pursues them. He and Christine make love in a scene that
Verhoeven somehow infuses with just the slightest comic touch, always
remembering still to flaunt his Euro-perv directing chops. Then, the next morning, the story takes a
strange turn. Gerard, having accepted
Christine’s invitation to stay several days, finds in her desk a love letter
with a photo of a man he tried to approach in the train depot as he departed
for the lecture. He devises a plot to
have Christine bring the man to the salon with the secret hope of seducing him
himself.
Through a ruse he learns that the
man’s name is Herman, and that he is a lover Christine discarded before she
married the husband who left her a wealthy widow. Gerard claims that he might be able to help
Christine with the sexual problems she experienced in her relationship with
Herman, and she agrees to bring him to the apartment. While she travels to meet Herman, Gerard
makes a discovery that may explain both Christine’s poor luck with men and the
grotesque dreams that he hasn’t been able to escape since the film’s outset.
Most of this synopsis I’m sure
sounds somewhat boring, because the film is in many ways conventional in its
structure while at the same time outrageous in its imagery, which must been
seen to comprehend. For much of the first
half of the film the dream sequences keep the viewer’s attention and not the
story. Then, as the strange elements of
Christine’s life become more apparent to Gerard, her mystery essentially
becomes the plot. Why is she drawn to
Gerard, and he to her? Why hasn’t she
remarried? Is Gerard’s lust for her a
misplaced attempt to quell his homosexual urges, or does she perhaps represent
some deeper evil that he must resist?
The film, as stated, is full of
mixed religious imagery that often combines the sacred with the profane. I’m surprised in fact that I hadn’t heard
about some of its more graphic sequences in discussions of sacrilege in
cinema. Regardless, it’s still somewhat
unclear exactly how Verhoeven intended many of his images. He’s stated that he wanted to include the
artistic elements to get the attention of the critical set, but whether
confusion or profundity was his ultimate goal I cannot say. What is clear is that the picture proves to
be about half as interesting as it is intriguing, which isn’t a terrible ratio
when considering the par. It’s also a
film that manages, in the way Verhoeven films often do, to retain a sliver of
legitimate sexiness under the veneer of trashiness he so frequently applies. I think, in a way, Hitchcock would have been proud.
Language:
Dutch
Runtime:
102 Minutes
Grade:
3 Hats Off
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