Arriving at my Dutch class in Deventer last week, it was to my pleasant surprise that our tutor wheeled in an old fashioned (though typical for a school) TV and video set.
In an instant I was back in the mid 1990s at secondary school; fond memories of lessons enlivened by watching woefully produced and badly recorded programmes. Apologies for the whimsical digression into nostalgia but…
The subject of this lesson certainly lived up to such recollections of the past. Our viewing for the afternoon was the 1963 documentary Alleman, directed by Bert Haanstra and narrated by the renowned writer Simon Carmiggelt. Thus, I and the rest of the class were transported back to an earlier rendering of modern Netherlands, one which was fundamentally the blueprint for the nation we inhabit today. It became apparent that this was a subtly constructed montage of the day to day workings of a country. This was also a country re-inventing itself from the foundations upwards and re-discovering its routines, ideals, interests and purpose. The documentary conveys a land of innocence and purity, a society unshackled and attempting to submerge the horrors of its recent past.
Introduction to Alleman (in Dutch)
In bringing together two iconic figures of Dutch culture, this alone ensures its value as an intuitive historical artefact. Yet is there more to be unearthed than merely a fleeting cultural interest? Focusing on themes of the everyday, the film’s qualities provide a fascinating entry into educating the viewer about the Dutch psyche.
The era portrayed is on the cusp of global capitalism and US and UK influence is marked; through the demand for new businesses, emigration, automobiles, beauty contests, and light entertainment. Nevertheless, attributes that could only have originated from the Netherlands – farming, ice skating, life on the waterways, cycling, the processions and celebrations, the rapidly changing weather – stand out clearly to define the nation’s unique character.
In the midst of the section on sport, I paused to survey the responses of my classmates. Everyone was enraptured by the charm of the Netherlands circa 1960. This I felt, was particularly significant, for the group consists of people from Russia, Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Morocco, Turkey, Iran, Bolivia, Mexico, Poland, Denmark and England. I began to contemplate how fortunate I am to be able to engage in discussion every week with differing perspectives from around the whole globe. I realised too that even today, there are only a few nations in which such a grand coming together of cultures is even remotely possible. Here we all were then, sat around the television, captivated by a documentary nearly half a century old and discovering the recent history of a nation to which we are all currently outsiders. We are all attending these lessons to further our understanding of the language and become accustomed to the nation’s character. It is our task to unravel the constituents of the determined Dutch character in order to hasten our integration into its society.
"Zoo" 1961 by Haanstra
Any negatives? During a later discussion, a few members of the class had viewed the film as political propaganda, a film promoting a false image of a unified and resolutely rehabilitated land. Yet to my mind, the film conveyed a broad and neutral observation of the internal functioning of a post war society. The most likely intention of the filmmakers would have been to generate awareness and pride in the daily activities of the nation as a whole without advocating political idealism. Through humour, restraint and distancing from his subjects, Haanstra perfectly encapsulates a significant period of mid 20th century life in the Netherlands. We witness the emotions, the activities and the ideals of a nation liberated from oppression and receptive to the endless possibilities of a future of freedom.
It is a generally light hearted, often amusing and broadly reflective portrait that also exhibits historical gravitas in its focus on social restoration. A key example of this is the fascinated market crowd, gathering to observe a bust of Hitler. The viewer is under no illusions - this is an object of ridicule, confirmed through the reactions of passers by and through Carmiggelt’s voiceover. Yet there is an obvious awkwardness, an uncertainty and an underlying fear that pervades through the mockery. The psychological wounds of the war are still too close; perhaps this veiled pain served as the motivation to develop a stable, diverse and free thinking society.
Haanstra pauses only momentarily to consider the plight of the poor and homeless, showing those who awaken on the city streets and park benches. It’s true that the film does not delve into the real hardships many were facing in this difficult period of transition. Yet this is a documentary which doesn’t purport to investigate or ask questions. Upon its release, no one would have needed reminding of such troubles. Ultimately, this would have been perfect escapist cinema and though it documents a specific period of history, the film itself is timeless. Haanstra uses the camera as an observing presence – it doesn’t attempt to interfere – rather it allows the people to develop a free spirited narrative, akin to the individualism of the Dutch mentality. Whilst the orchestral swell somewhat dates the film, the construction of scenes and the stark cinematography retain an enchantingly modern spontaneity.
Bert Haanstra preparing his hidden videocamera for "Alleman"
On my train journey home, I saw apparitions of Haanstra’s Netherlands everywhere; people busy working in the fields or on the waterways, the forests of the Veluwe scarred by conflict, children playing in the streets, thousands of cyclists, the leisure activities and the bustle of the towns. Two images of a nation then, half a century apart, overlap and intertwine. Yet the Netherlands has in many ways, radically altered since this film was released. Whilst it remains a country of individuals (17 million and counting) and we are increasingly crammed together by the country’s geographical restrictions, this is now a land of vast cultural diversity and continues to be socially progressive. Most importantly, there is an underlying characteristic of the people – a stout refusal to forget past difficulties whilst celebrating their continued freedom – that should never be overlooked or repressed. The beginnings of this free spirited mentality are evident in Alleman, illustrating why this documentary retains its vitality and why it is essential viewing to those new to the country. It enables the viewer to comprehend the essence of what it is to be Dutch and serves wonderfully as an affirmation of living life to its fullest – perhaps one of the great qualities of my adopted nation and one to which I intend to adhere to.
British expat Graham Jackson has lived in the Netherlands since February 2008. A budding writer, he has a passion for music, film and literature.
Expat Voices: Graham Jackson on living in the Netherlands
Expatica features Graham's perspective on life in the Netherlands.
Graham Jackson/Expatica
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Viewing the 1963 documentary Alleman as part of his Dutch lesson, Graham Jackson finds himself on a trip into the Dutch psyche…
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