If you’re following this little blog, you’re probably here because you like ‘Young Royals’ and not primarily because you’re a cinematography nerd or are deeply fascinated by the magic ingredients of film analysis.
But perhaps I have managed to infect you a little bit with this particular passion of mine, and you’re interested in hearing about something else for a change?
Yes?
Ooookay…
(No, no, don’t worry; we will get back to our ‘Young Royals’ discussion in a few days, I promise. This is just something special for today. For Valentine’s Day.)
Perhaps you will spend this day with your significant other, drinking copious amounts of champagne, fighting your way through pink balloons in your bedroom, trying to avoid setting the house on fire when you trip over those seven dozen lit candles on the floor and almost slip on the rose petals strewn between them in the process. (Do people actually do that? Don’t they just, hypothetically, sit around the fireplace and, say, exercise their musical blind tasting skills by listening to a dozen renditions of the same Chopin pieces for a couple of hours? With some actual blind wine tasting and a shoulder massage thrown into the mix? Completely hypothetically speaking, of course.)
So, perhaps you are celebrating this day with someone. But in case you’re not, in case you’re home alone, in case you feel a bit lonely and sad or just bored and listless…I thought you might need a movie you could wrap yourself up in like a warm, comfy blanket and purr along with in deep contentment for about 75 minutes – a movie that’s both uplifting and so heartwarming you will feel like you’ve just got a hug while devouring a whole box of heart-shaped chocolates without having to think of any dietary restrictions or your next dentist appointment.
In which case, here it comes: my Valentine’s Day recommendation for you!
If you’ve watched ‘Young Royals’, you have already proven that you have no trouble watching foreign-language films with the subtitles turned on. (No, but seriously, is there anyone who watched the dubbed version?) And you have also proven that you like European cinema in its gritty (and sometimes comedic) realism, which can be so different from its American more polished, but also somewhat more artificial equivalent.
So, you might enjoy this European film:
It’s called ‘Jongens’, and it is from 2014. It’s a Dutch film, which is where your subtitle-reading skills come in handy, I suppose – unless you are Dutch, of course. It’s just about 1 hour and 15 minutes long, so you won’t spend too much time on it (unless you watch it twice or thrice or four to seventeen times, which…you will, I guarantee you). And you definitely won’t regret it, I promise (warm, comfy blanket and all that).
It’s a gay-themed movie (I hope I’m reading the room right in that you’d all be interested in something like that). And it does in fact have a happy end (not a given in this particular genre). The actors in it are really, really good (also not a given in this genre), and there is absolutely no violence in it; there is no sex either (sorry, in case that was something you were looking forward to).
There really isn’t anything in it that I’d have to warn you about beforehand. On my personal rating scale, I would rate this one ‘grandma-friendly’. (Well, there’s perhaps one tiny, somewhat suggestive shower scene in it, but I’m pretty sure your granny wouldn’t even understand what she’d be watching there.) In short, it’s the kind of film you can watch in mixed company (of any kind).
And if you’re a teacher, dear reader (and from all your lovely notes and messages that you keep sending me, I know that quite a few amongst you are, in fact, teachers), then this might be one of those films you could watch with your students, in case you’re teaching the older teenage age group and are looking for something that doesn’t show any explicit nudity or violence. If you want to introduce them to the art of cinematography in a gorgeous little movie and, at the same time, perhaps discuss an non-ideological gay-themed love story that manages to avoid most of the common tropes and clichés, then this is the movie for you and your classroom.
The film’s creator, the director Mischa Kamp, whose brainchild this little gem is, is a woman (in case that’s something you specifically look out for; personally, I don’t care either way), and the script was written by Chris Westendorp and Jaap-Peter Enderle, a woman and a man.
The main protagonist Sieger is played by the absurdly talented Gijs Blom, who was just 17 years old when this film was shot; the film immediately made him a bit of an icon in the gay community in the Netherlands.
Synopsis: 15-year-old Sieger, an introverted, sensitive overthinker, is a member of the local athletics team in his rural community and spends all his free time on the running track. Together with three other boys, he’s chosen to compete in the national championship relay race and falls in love with his teammate, the funny and free-spirited Marc.
To put it simply, if you worked on a project or practised some kind of high-intensity hobby in your youth that required a great deal of focus and dedication and perhaps went through your sexual awakening and first crush in that context, then you will understand this film on a deeper level and feel an instant connection with the characters, I’m sure.
Here’s the trailer, in case you’d like to check it out before watching the film.
Don’t expect the same kind of subtextual fireworks you get on ‘Young Royals’, though. ‘Jongens’ delights with its beautiful images, gorgeous cinematography, its outstanding actors, the simplicity and authenticity of the story, the realistic portrayal of human relationships and with its clever visual storytelling choices. It is an aesthetically very pleasing and, in large parts, calm and very focused movie.
All right, you’re all set now. I’ve told you what to expect, and you can see if you can find it streaming somewhere. (I suppose I’m a bit late, Valentine’s-Day-wise, for those of you who live in the Eastern hemisphere, sorry. But this is a gorgeous movie, no matter when you decide to watch it.)
Please don’t read further than this before watching the film itself because anything below the line will be spoilery to the highest degree. So, in case you’re interested, go watch the film first and then come back to this text later. (Or do it some other time, in which case…goodbye for now; we will continue our ‘Young Royals’ discussion soon, I promise.)
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SPOILERS BELOW THIS LINE
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Van de verkeerde kant is a Dutch expression that literally translates as ‘from the other/wrong side’, but when used figuratively, is a mildly derogatory/slightly euphemistic term for ‘gay’. In Dutch, the phrase, ‘He is from the other/wrong side,’ is used in a similar way as the English expression, ‘He’s batting for the other team.’
There’s a fascinating little scene in ‘Jongens’, after Sieger and Marc have kissed for the first time and Sieger has defensively claimed not to be gay, which features this brilliant shot:
On the right side of the frame, Marc is showing off his rather impressive handstand skills; on the left, Sieger is currently engaged in some shuttle sprint exercises.
And while I’m sure this scene and the dialogue that goes with it immediately stood out to anyone who watched the film, we have to talk about it in depth for a moment because it is actually important for understanding what this film’s visual storytelling strategy is.
You could, of course, assume that this scene exists in order to visualize the fact that Marc looks at the world in a different way than Sieger does, that he has a different perspective on life, which isn’t wrong per se, of course. It’s just a little bit more concrete. This isn’t just a visual metaphor.
It’s a visual pun.
A visual pun is created when you take an idiomatic expression in whatever language your film is in and try to recreate it in a visual way.
I have a deep and abiding love for visual puns, and I’ve missed them dearly in our ‘Young Royals’ discussion posts. I’m sure there must be some on that show, but since I don’t speak a word of Swedish, I’m utterly incapable of spotting them, which is a shame. So, this little scene in ‘Jongens’ was a special treat for me.
Marc is literally shown to be ‘van de verkeerde kant’ in this scene; he’s upside down. He is looking at the world ‘from the other side’, i.e. he is gay. It’s a visual pun.
What’s more, he is actually explicitly telling Sieger to maybe give this thing a try, as well. (Remember that this scene is set after that first kiss, with Sieger thankfully not having gone into full-homophobe mode and genuinely trying to be just friends with his teammate.) So, Marc is tentatively trying to get Sieger to walk on his hands, too, to see the world ‘from the other side’, i.e. to perhaps give this whole ‘gay perspective’ on his love life a chance.
Well, and Sieger actually tries exactly that in this scene. He does. And then he keels over immediately, mirroring the fact that he is actually only starting to discover his own sexuality at this point and hasn’t properly worked things out yet. He doesn’t know how to do it…yet.
Note what it is that Sieger is actually doing the rest of the time in his half of the frame: He is doing some very intense and focused-looking shuttle sprints, i.e. he is running from one line to the next and back, then forward to the next line after that, etc. – all while timing himself. There couldn’t be a better metaphor for what Sieger is going through in his life: Sieger is still colouring inside the lines, following the rules, strictly adhering to the norms set by his father and brother.
So, this shot actually gives us a combination of a visual pun on the right side of the frame (Marc standing on his hands) and a visual metaphor (Sieger trapped by his ‘lines’).
Sieger is (still) following the rules; he’s thinking and acting within generally accepted guidelines. Sieger needs to see the world ‘van de verkeerde kant’, i.e. ‘from the other side’. In other words, Sieger needs to be turned around. And we will see in a second how important that is for understanding what is going on with the cinematography in this film.
What I particularly enjoy in this scene is that we actually get something else, as well. A so-called ‘Point-of-View shot’ (or rather two of them).
A POV-shot is a shot that is filmed as if through the eyes of a character. (I’m sure you must have seen POV-shots in films before, dear reader.) What usually precedes a POV-shot is a shot establishing what the character in question is looking at, and we do get that in this scene; we know Marc is looking at Sieger while doing a handstand, and then we get the POV-shot itself, showing us the world as if through Marc’s eyes:
What we’re seeing here – with the sky at the bottom of the frame and the running track at the top – is Marc’s point of view. (The filmmakers didn’t have to do this. We already know Marc is standing on his hands, and yet they insisted on showing us Sieger from Marc’s perspective.)
Then we get a shot of Marc’s face upside down, establishing once again that he is ‘from the other side’, i.e. gay.
And then we get something that I’d call an ‘almost-POV-shot’: We see Sieger who’s still doing his shuttle sprint, but the running track is at the bottom of the frame now, with the sky at the top again. To make sure we understand that this is still Marc’s point of view, the camera moves back and forth somewhat shakily, the way you do when you’re walking on your hands:
So, in the span of a few seconds, we are visually told that Marc himself definitely is ‘from the other side’, i.e. gay, but that things aren’t as clear when it comes to Sieger. Marc sees him upside down (literally ‘from the other side’) in one POV-shot but also the right way up in another POV-shot. In other words, Marc isn’t sure what to make of Sieger. Is Sieger gay or not? (A question that makes sense when somebody literally told you they’re not but also kinda enthusiastically kissed you back after you kissed them. Mixed signals and all that.)
It’s precisely after these two interesting POV-shots that Marc suggests Sieger try to do a handstand, too, telling him none-too-subtly that he just has to ‘dare it’, i.e. allow himself to try this gay thing out for a bit. And then we get Sieger collapsing on his derrière in the process.
As viewers, we’re left with the impression that Marc definitely is ‘from the other side’ and an inkling that something needs to happen to Sieger over the course of this film: Sieger needs to be turned around. Sieger needs to be flipped.
This film is Sieger’s journey, his coming-of-age story, and for it to work out, Sieger needs to do something; he needs to understand that he, too, is ‘from the other side’ and, what’s more, that that’s no cause for panic, that it’s actually a joyous thing that will certainly bring him more happiness than colouring inside the lines and following the rules imposed on him.
Understanding the visual pun we are shown in this brilliant little scene really pays off, both later on in the film, but also on a re-watch when examining earlier scenes again. It’s an important aspect of what Mischa Kamp is trying to tell us with her visual storytelling strategy.
The ‘handstand scene’ is followed by a lovely conversation (again, Sieger isn’t trying to cut Marc out of his life because of one kiss; he’s even having rather personal chats with him), which is followed by Marc inviting Sieger to his home for some sorbet-and-trampoline shenanigans.
In a (literally) pivotal scene on the trampoline, Sieger and Marc can then be seen being playful and silly with each other. Sieger has finally managed to relax a bit and just be in the moment, and we will see later on why this whole ‘sorbet-and-trampoline scene’ is so important for understanding what is going on in the film’s subtext.
As the two boys jump up and down on the trampoline, we get a fascinating shot of Sieger leaping into the frame from below and then literally flipping around in the air, executing a perfect somersault.
We don’t get a shot like that with Marc! Marc is just jumping up and down. Marc doesn’t need to be turned around. It’s Sieger who gets turned around like a happy little pancake in a pan here. Sieger needed to be flipped, and that’s when it happens! He is turned around. Literally. Physically. Visually.
Note that this ‘flip’ happens when he can finally just be himself: happy and carefree with Marc, playful and silly, in an undisturbed moment, far away from his father and brother and their expectations.
He flies through the air and literally turns around. Sieger is ‘from the other side’, as they say, and he is happy this way. And it’s precisely the next shot after this ‘somersault shot’, and not a second earlier, that the two boys actually touch on the trampoline.
It’s only after that ‘flip’ in the air that Sieger allows Marc’s head to land in his lap and that, even more importantly, he allows himself to throw an arm across Marc’s chest, with Marc tenderly touching his forearm.
Subtextually, it’s the ‘flip’ that makes this carefree tenderness possible.
And then comes the possibly greatest subtle little shot in this film filled with beautiful shots:
When you want to shoot two people lying on a horizontal surface in an intimate scenario (say, in bed or lying in a field somewhere), there’s usually just one way to do that: Filmmakers almost always have to resort to an overhead shot for this, filming the couple from above. After all, you cannot shoot through a mattress…which is why the trampoline is just an inspired choice for this scene: Mischa Kamp made sure to shoot the two boys’ faces from below, through the semi-transparent trampoline mesh.
She is literally showing us the two characters ‘from the other side’, not from the side you would expect them to be shown in a scenario like this.
Both, Marc and Sieger, are ‘from the other side’ now, and the camera visually points that out to us.
The fact that they’re both smiling as they lock eyes, clearly smitten, certainly doesn’t hurt, but you would usually expect to get a shot like this from above, and we don’t! We get this very specific little shot, right after Sieger has been visually flipped in the frame, right after he has allowed himself to touch Marc.
The shot is ‘from the other side’, playing on that visual pun that was established in the ‘handstand scene’.
Turning things around, flipping them, showing things from the other side, is an important aspect of this film’s visual storytelling strategy, and it trickles down to the smallest details on screen: from the boys flipping the pontoon float in the river to Sieger flipping a stone between his fingers in contemplation in a beautiful close-up after that first kiss…to Sieger eventually climbing out of the car Eddy is driving and walking away in the opposite direction – this film is all about turning and flipping and reversing something…
One of the most important things we have to understand in this context is why Sieger is even called Sieger in the first place.
Sieger is a pretty rare Dutch name. It’s etymologically derived from the root ‘sigi-’, meaning victory.
Now, even in the context of a very superficial reading of the film, this name makes perfect sense: It’s a film about runners and running, after all. And Sieger has to win in the relay championships that constitute one of the two climactic scenes of the movie.
But it’s, of course, more than just that: Sieger’s name alludes to winning, to a victory and to him having to turn into the ‘victorious one’, because there is something he has to defeat.
A race in a movie is never just a race, a competition never just a competition.
Sieger has to defeat something, and he has to win. On that running track. He has to win in order to be able to be happy.
So, what is it that he is fighting? What does he have to defeat? And what does he have to find?
The most important character in this brilliant little film is somebody who isn’t physically there, a big, black hole in the narrative around which the main characters revolve and that explains their movements around each other, their characterization and motivations. It’s the story’s silent, yet ever-present negative space: Sieger’s dead mother.
If you’ve been following this little blog for a while, then you do, of course, know what negative space is because we’ve talked about it before. It’s a term that originated in art history and describes anything in a frame that isn’t the painting’s (or film shot’s) positive space. To put it in simple terms: In a portrait, the subject in the painting is the positive space; all the empty space around them is the negative space.
Negative space might be empty, but it’s certainly not pointless or meaningless. It usually communicates a message. In cinematic contexts, the emptiness itself can carry great semantic weight. If a movie’s main protagonist is described as a loner, for example, who really needs a romantic partner, the film’s art director might decide to seat this character at a table for two when he or she is having breakfast, leaving one half of the table empty and adding an empty chair to the arrangement. When one half of the frame ends up being effectively empty, this does subliminally communicate to the viewer that somebody is missing in this character’s life and that this person actually has potential: the potential to love a romantic partner (that the movie will then, of course, throw at the character at some opportune moment later on in the story). The effect of the half-empty frame can be compounded by adding other props to the setup (an empty placemat on that empty side of the table, for example) and the lighting department can choose to specifically highlight that emptiness, making it the most important and most noticeable element in the shot, in order to make sure the viewers understand that this character needs a better half – just like that frame that has a half that needs to be filled.
All of these neat little cinematic tricks refer to the creation of visual negative space, though. There is, however, also such a thing as narrative negative space, and narrative negative space is much harder to pull off for the creators of a movie or TV show.
‘Jongens’ does it brilliantly.
Sieger’s late mother is mentioned only two or three times; we don’t get any flashback scenes showing her. Hell, we don’t even get a proper close-up of her photograph.
And yet her absence permeates almost every scene of the movie. She is the narrative negative space around which the characters are revolving.
Very well-thought-out casting and acting decisions give us, the viewers, the instant and very much instinctive impression that Sieger’s father and older brother resemble each other much more than Sieger resembles either of them, for example.
Without it ever being literally mentioned in the script, we understand that, despite all their loud arguments, shouting matches and subsequent make-up scenes, Eddy and their dad (in all their macho posturing and rough-housing and male-bonding rituals) resemble each other – they even look alike – while Sieger, the quiet and introverted younger son in this household, most likely resembles someone who isn’t there anymore: his mother.
This effect is intensified by often showing us Sieger in the process of doing household chores, an activity that is (at least stereotypically) associated with motherhood.
How difficult it must be for a boy who is, after all, only just beginning to grasp the idea that he might not be straight to grow up in such a male-dominated family environment, without some softness and femininity to balance out all of that macho-grandstanding, is palpable, without it ever being spelled out.
(And just in case, you’re now thinking that I’ve just claimed that all women are soft and cuddly and all men are rough and tough: That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s the opposite of what I’m saying, as a matter of fact. Sieger is a boy, after all. We’re all a very individual mix of stereotypically masculine and stereotypically feminine traits that need to be balanced in order for us to thrive. If you brutally cut out a huge chunk of our emotional inner universe and try to conform to some idea of maleness that just involves ostentatious bluster and bravado, you’re going to suffer for it. The missing mother on this show is, in that sense, an allegorical figure representing that which is missing from Sieger’s family and thus in his life.)
It’s no coincidence then that Sieger falls in love with Marc of all people. This isn’t just a boy from an intact and loving family, no, we are literally shown both his mother and his little sister, two female fixed stars in Marc’s emotional universe who make him who he is. He has a carefree smile and isn’t scared of what other people might think of him. He isn’t afraid to express himself, to be playful and silly and soft and to fall head over heels in love with another boy. All because of these two allegorical figures, his mother and his sister, representing that other side that a boy has to have in order to be happy.
This is probably the point where we should ask ourselves why this movie is called ‘Jongens’ (which translates as ‘boys/guys’) in the first place. It’s not just because there are guys in it, that’s for sure, or else almost every movie would be called that.
It’s called that precisely because of this theme of femininity, and it shows us the dark cloud that hangs over any boy who doesn’t have any access to that part inside himself. It’s called ‘Jongens’ (plural!) because there are different ways to be a guy, and not all of them come down to beating your chest and swinging from a vine.
That this ‘mother theme’ and the different home environments from which the two main protagonists hail are very important for understanding the characters and the movie’s core message is something we will come back to, but perhaps we should talk about the most beautiful metaphor of the whole film first?
Yes, I think that’s where we will start our exploration.
Metaphors in a movie are much more difficult to pick up on than metaphors on a TV show, for the simple reason that they might only show up once. A TV show will often make good use of the time that it has to develop a metaphor, using it as a recurring motif and making sure it evolves step by step by step. In a film (just like in a poem) you might only get one chance to catch a metaphor. And if you don’t, it might just get away from you like a shy little animal running off into the woods. Speaking of which…
Did you notice the deer?
As Sieger and Marc ride through the dunes towards their final destination, the North Sea, they suddenly spot two roe deer in the underbrush. A few moments later, after they have beheld the animals in silent awe and wonder, Sieger finally manages to overcome his earlier fears and internalized homophobia, tenderly kissing Marc on the neck.
Roe deer are among the shyest, quietest, loveliest and most graceful animals on the European continent. Spotting them in the wild like this, without them spooking and running off immediately, is an incredibly rare and precious experience.
These deer represent Sieger’s love for Marc, we are to understand here: precious, incredibly beautiful, but very easy to spook. You have to get the moment exactly right to behold these creatures’ magical beauty, but when you do, it’s an incredible moment of enchantment and wonder. It happens unexpectedly and without you being able to control it. And it happens only when all the noise of the day has died down (read: when all those other people with their opinions and attitudes don’t matter anymore). It happens just for the two of them, and it’s like a little miracle. Something utterly sublime and beautiful.
Did I say you only get one chance to catch a metaphor? Well, in this case, that’s not quite true (although there are metaphors that appear only once in this film). The deer themselves might only show up once, but animals are a different matter:
This scene with the deer is clearly juxtaposed with the ‘cow scene’ earlier on.
Please compare the ‘cow scene’ and the ‘deer scene’. The two boys behave very differently in these two scenes: When faced with the deer, they just gaze at the beautiful creatures in silent wonder. When faced with the poor grazing cows, they decide to chase them across the field.
These cows are a metaphor for their love, as well. But you can see that something isn’t quite working yet in that ‘cow scene’. Perhaps the cows got too close to the boys, too insistent in trampling all over the grass? Just like Marc was perhaps a tad too forward in just kissing Sieger like that. Because (even though Sieger immediately reciprocated and kissed Marc back) it prompted some kind of inner turmoil in Sieger, that culminated in him saying the stereotypical hetero-dude-bro thing: “I’m not gay.”
The ‘cow incident’ does therefore foreshadow what is going to happen a few moments later, after that kiss. Those metaphorical ‘animals’ get chased off the field by the two boys; this metaphor for their love gets chased off by two guys trying to be as stereotypically macho as possible.
Note how both boys make completely ridiculous gorilla-type gestures and noises as they chase the cows away. Translation: Both boys will resort to some masculine posturing to resolve the tension between them after the kiss; Sieger will claim he isn’t gay, and yes, Marc will even play along for a bit by indulging him and saying, “Of course, you’re not.”
Those metaphorical ‘animals’ got chased away by big, big macho gestures for now.
It’s only later, when they’re on their way to the beach, that they finally allow themselves to stand there and just behold the beauty of the metaphorical ‘animals’ (the roe deer this time), to truly appreciate what precious thing is actually happening in that magical moment. There is no shouting, no ‘gorilla’ type gesticulating, no pseudo-masculine bluster – just silent awe and wonder…and then a lot of tenderness. Tenderness, the thing that isn’t usually on a man’s list of allowed behaviours – at least not with another man.
The contrast between how they behave around the cows and how they behave around the deer couldn’t be any greater. They’ve grown and evolved as characters between these two scenes. They’re both able to look at and acknowledge the metaphor representing their love. And that’s why things are allowed to happen on that beach a few moments later…but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Contrast this ‘deer scene’ with a scene we see later in the movie: At the town fair, Sieger manages to pull a teddy bear for Jessica out of the claw machine.
Unlike a deer, a teddy bear is not a real animal. It’s a stuffed toy. It’s artificial. It’s ‘fake’. Just like Sieger’s pretend-relationship with this girl. It hasn’t got anything on that magical moment in the forest paces away from the sea. This love isn’t real, we are told here. It’s also cheap. There are hundreds of toys like that inside that machine.
What’s more, in the scene, you can actually see how Jessica is at first trying to pull the teddy bear out of the claw machine on her own, but it’s not working.
Translation: This girl has been trying to win Sieger’s love for quite a while now. She’s been trying to get his attention, but he just isn’t interested in her. It’s not working. She cannot get the teddy bear out of the machine on her own.
It’s only when he tries it that he manages to pull the ‘fake animal’ out of there. I.e. it’s only when Sieger himself decides to pursue this fake relationship that they actually end up dating (for a while).
What’s more, this ‘fake animal’ (fake love) comes out of a machine, not out of a forest. It has to be pulled out of this machine by force. And that’s difficult. Very, very difficult to do, as we’re shown.
The deer in the woods don’t come out of a machine. They are a part of nature. They’re not difficult to attract. The two boys didn’t even have to try. These shy, wonderful creatures just appeared – all on their own like something magical, beautiful and unique. They just happened. Just like that love just happened. Nobody had to pull these deer out of anywhere. Nobody had to force them to come. They arrived in silence and made Sieger and Marc smile and kiss and be tender with each other.
Note the fact that homosexuality is described as something natural here: These deer are literally a part of nature. Something that’s just as wonderful and beautiful and natural as all those trees and dunes and waves. And they appear when you least expect them to – just so you can experience awe and elation.
It’s heterosexuality that is described as something artificial and fake in the ‘town fair scene’ in front of that claw machine (at least for this particular character). It literally comes out of a machine.
Did you notice the sea gulls, those other animals, a few moments after the boys tumble into the sand on the beach? They appear in a beautiful shot of the pitch-black night sky: white wonderful birds, freely roaming the heavens, telling us that these two are now completely free to explore their love with each other under the stars.
Contrast that with the dog Jessica is walking in one of the scenes in which Sieger runs into her on a morning jog: Another animal. Same metaphor. That dog isn’t free. It’s on a leash, telling us what a long-term relationship with this girl would be like for Sieger. How unhappy and permanently trapped he would feel if he pursued this ‘fake love’ with her.
He pets the dog for a bit – just like he tries out this straight relationship for a while in the film. But ultimately it isn’t right for him. Jessica tells him the dog likes him, but the dog just keeps barking at him, and Sieger looks rather sceptical, ultimately pretty much running away from the two of them.
It’s Jessica who says this leashed dog likes Sieger. She wants to believe this. She wants to believe Sieger would like being in love with her. Sieger himself never says that he likes the dog (this relationship on a leash). And we all understand that he would much rather be with Marc.
Note the subtle hint we get in that ‘dog scene’ at the very beginning: Sieger is running in one direction on his footpath, and Jessica is going in the other direction, visually separated from Sieger. They are literally going in different directions. Then he catches up with her for a while and talks to her, petting that metaphorical ‘dog’ (just like in the narrative as a whole where their paths cross for a while) and then he runs off and away from her again (again, just like in the overall story where he will leave her behind in the end).
This is a movie about running and motorcycling and about forward movement in general, so this is semantically significant (we will come back to this).
The end of the ‘town fair scene’ in front of the claw machine gives us one of the more heartbreaking moments, too: Marc, who has just seen Jessica kiss Sieger, Marc, who just had to watch Sieger walk away from him, Marc, whose heart is broken, poor Marc…is holding a stuffed animal in his hand, too. He is staring at it, contemplating it, and we instantly understand what thoughts are running through his head, “Was this love with Sieger just…an artificial thing, too? Was it fake? Did Sieger never really mean it when we were on that beach?” In other words, is their love just a stuffed toy, as well? Marc is looking at the stuffed animal in his hand, and he doesn’t look happy, filled with doubt and jealousy.
But as the audience, we do, of course, understand that Sieger really meant it, still means it. Those deer were real animals, after all.
And those birds in the sky when they were lying on that beach were real, as well.
It’s just that Sieger visibly let the sand run through his hands in a gesture reminiscent of an hourglass, the universal symbol of evanescence, just as Marc said, “Shall we stay here forever?”
Perhaps Marc was talking about ‘forever’, but for Sieger this was just a one-time thing? Something short-lived and fleeting?
Those are probably Marc’s thoughts as he holds that stuffed animal in his hand at the town fair and watches Sieger walk away. The claw machine spells out ‘Good Luck’ above his head in this heartbreaking shot, foreshadowing the fact that Marc will say, “Good luck with your charade!” to Sieger later on, right before the relay race.
But we, the audience, do, of course, know that Marc is not right, and the end of the movie proves him wrong.
There is more to this ‘animal’ metaphor actually, as I’m sure you must have noticed by now, dear reader: These two roe deer that represent Sieger’s true, genuine, beautiful love for Marc are, in fact, a mother and her fawn!
The theme of the missing mother in this movie is key to understanding it.
Sieger has tragically lost his mother and has since lived in a household dominated by men, not evil men per se, no, but thoughtless in some ways, stuck in their heteronormative, macho ways, men who have difficulty communicating their emotions unless it’s through shouting. And Sieger is not a shouty boy at all.
Throughout the movie, we feel how much he misses having access to that other world: a world in which he can be playful and happy and even soft and tender from time to time. A world in which that is allowed – even for a guy. A world that doesn’t just consist of posturing and pretending to be someone he’s not. He misses that so much, and he finds it in Marc and in his love for him.
It’s no coincidence that this moment with the deer finally unlocks his feelings: There’s mother and her fawn.
There’s femininity in all of us, I suppose, no matter what parts we were born with (blessed with? cursed with?). But for Sieger, it’s clear that that part of him has been ripped from him when his mother, the allegorical figure representing that aspect of him, passed away.
And it’s at this specific moment when he and Marc encounter the deer, the mother and her fawn, in that magical night that Sieger can finally find a way back to that part inside of himself. And that’s why he can finally, really kiss Marc and open up to him at that moment.
Growing up in a loving family home, one in which playfulness and silliness and tenderness and softness were allowed and not punished, is very important for any future relationships we pursue as adults. Growing up in a home that has this giant, never mentioned, yet gaping black hole of trauma in it because one of the parents died, growing up in a home where a single parent struggles to hold the family together, growing up in a home where every gesture consists of proving your manliness, growing up like that is not a good preparation for falling in love.
It’s no coincidence that the deer are a mother and her fawn, and that it’s the sight of them that helps Sieger unlock that hidden part inside of himself, truly open up and love someone.
And it’s no coincidence that when Sieger is invited to Marc’s home for the first time, he encounters the same constellation: Marc’s mother and his little sister. Another mother and her fawn. Maternal love and the innocence of childhood, the two magic ingredients that Marc has grown up with.
We can see how uncomplicated Marc’s relationship with his family is, how he’s completely unconcerned to be seen giggling and playing with his little sister, how he isn’t scared Sieger might think less of him because of it, how he isn’t trying to play the macho or prove his manliness in front of Sieger, how he just naturally allows himself to play silly games and jump on the trampoline with a seven-year old girl, how he just…is.
And he opens up this world for Sieger, too. This world where all of that is allowed. He literally tells his sister, “Now, go play with him for a bit.” And we can finally see Sieger laugh and play and tickle Neeltje and lift her up and help her do somersaults. Even more flipping when you think about it. And the thing being flipped around here is more than just a literal character; it’s the innocence of childhood that is allowed to be turned and turned and turned around.
This movie was written by a woman and a man, who are never preachy in their wonderfully subtle screenplay, and yet, they make very wise observations: As a man, you have to allow yourself to be like that. And if you do, there is great joy to be found in the fact that you carry all of humanity in yourself, not just one half of it.
The first real conversation Marc and Sieger have with each other focuses heavily on this very question: Sieger’s dead mother (the fact that he hasn’t got one – just like he hasn’t got a pathway to that locked part in himself) and Marc’s very much alive one, whom Marc calls ‘crazy’ with an affectionate smile.
Marc’s mother, who makes him wear his bandana. He mock-complains about it, and yet he wears it every time. Even when his mum isn’t present. Even when he’s just on the track to exercise. (In his first ever scene, Marc actually runs into the building that houses their locker rooms specifically to retrieve that very bandana. He does so with joy, jumping over the railing and ‘ooh’-ing loudly, coming out through the other door and tying it around his head.)
That bandana is a metaphor, of course. (One that is more difficult to catch because the boys do, indeed, only discuss it that one single time.)
His mother’s love is always with him. She gave Marc something (metaphorically: a bandana), and it influences the way his mind works. It’s his default mental setting: warmth, tenderness, love and fearlessness. That’s why it’s visually affixed to his head. It makes him carefree and happy. It’s always there. It’s why he can be the way he is. It’s his mental equipment.
On that note: I hope you realize, dear reader, that it is, of course, meaningful when a character jumps across a railing, taking that hurdle with great ease, and then just proceeds to jump right over the threshold of the locker room, as well.
This character doesn’t know any hurdles. In the shot, this is (visually) nicely contrasted by Sieger standing there and doing some stretching exercises while notably holding on to that railing.
One of the characters jumps across metaphorical ‘hurdles’ without a care in the world, the other one holds on to these hurdles, just like he sticks to those rules and norms (at least for now).
And what is it that has Marc jump so easily across the railing in this shot (read: all those hurdles in his life)? Well, Marc is on his way to retrieve his bandana, that symbol of his mother’s love from the locker room. It’s this mental software that she has provided him with that makes it possible for him to overcome any hurdle that life can erect in his path.
And that is exactly why, in that first proper conversation between Sieger and Marc, Marc talks about his bandana and his mother, and Sieger barely manages to say the words, “My mother is dead,” out loud. Because the juxtaposition between those two situations is what this film is all about.
And that’s also why Marc asks Sieger what he thinks of his bandana, whether he likes it or not. Sieger says it’s something in between. Sieger isn’t sure yet. Sieger hasn’t found the pathway to his own tender, playful, loving emotions yet. He hasn’t got a mother anymore, so he doesn’t know how to find it. But in all fairness, he is halfway there. He isn’t a dumb, arrogant, homophobic macho. He is quiet and introverted. He just has to find the key to unlock that door in himself, the one that will help him truly love someone and open up to them. He’s only halfway there. Which is exactly what Marc perceives about him: Sieger doesn’t wear a bandana himself. Sieger can’t make up his mind about that bandana thing. Sieger is somewhere in between. Sieger wears one sock up and one sock down. Sieger isn’t fully ‘there’ yet. It’s a coming-of-age story, after all. And Sieger hasn’t reached his final destination yet. He is in an in-between state at this point in the story. Not fully ‘there’. Just like his socks.
Speaking of destinations…
That running is the uber-metaphor here is palpable, of course, throughout the whole movie.
It doesn’t take much guesswork to realize that running represents the way one approaches human relationships and romantic relationships, in particular.
In that same conversation, Sieger explains how he runs, how he counts, how he concentrates on his knees and how he lifts his feet…And he is absolutely baffled to find out that Marc doesn’t do any of these things.
Marc just…runs.
We’re shown how our two main protagonists approach human relationships and love in particular.
To Sieger, the introvert, human interaction is all about working out the rules: How does it work? How do I talk to someone? What can I say? What aren’t I allowed to say or do?
And he isn’t bad at it. Oh, no. Sieger is a very fast runner, which translates as Sieger is good at interacting with other people – as long as he can work out all the rules and really think it through.
And it’s implied that he thinks this is what loving someone will be like, as well: following all the rules of dating, doing the right things, making sure every step is placed exactly where it’s supposed to be.
But Marc isn’t like that. Marc just…runs.
Marc tells us that sometimes he doesn’t even know how he ran. Sometimes he only realizes that he’s run a race when he’s done it. Translation: Marc just follows his heart. Marc just falls in love. Head over heels. He only realizes how much he has fallen for someone after it has already happened. It comes to him completely naturally. And he doesn’t follow any stupid rules for that. He just…does it.
Running is a metaphor.
And that’s why when the two boys finally manage to have their magical night at the beach they are, first of all, shown to be running along the shoreline on that beach (very close to the waves; we’ll get back to that). This is a night for love, and they are free to pursue it here: They are running freely and happily. And Sieger isn’t counting any of his steps. He isn’t doing it with some running technique in mind. He just…runs.
This is also why those POV-shots in the ‘handstand scene’, that we’ve already discussed at the beginning of the post, happen on the running track. The filmmakers could have easily made Marc do his handstand in a field somewhere on a sunny afternoon, but it happens on the running track. Because running is a metaphor for relationships and love in particular. Marc is upside down (‘from the other side’) when it comes to his love life. And the two different POV-shots tell us that Marc is wondering if Sieger is upside down, as well, or not.
In those POV-shots, Marc sees Sieger run back and forth between the lines delineating the lanes on the track. Running is a metaphor: Sieger handles love and relationships by sticking to the ‘lines’ (read: rules) on the metaphorical ‘running track’.
And this is also why towards the end of the movie, when Stef signals to Sieger that he is fine with Sieger and Marc seeing each other, he does so by using running as a metaphor: He says Sieger and Marc are good running partners, but he means romantic partners, of course, and we all understand that from his facial expressions.
Running is a metaphor.
Which just goes to show that Marc’s bandana and Sieger’s socks are meaningful: If running is a metaphor for love than that different ‘running equipment’ that the two characters bring to the running track (the bandana and the socks) have to be meaningful, as well, right?
Marc can be this carefree and happy when it comes to romantic love precisely because he comes ‘especially equipped’: He wears his bandana, his mum’s love as his basic, mental software. He might mock-complain about the bandana a little bit in the way all teenage boys mock-complain about their loving mothers, but he still proudly wears this love on his forehead all the time. Marc comes equipped to the ‘running track’ that is love. And Sieger comes only half-equipped, half-ready, half-done. One sock up, one sock down.
Should we talk about the cinematography for a bit? I feel we’ve neglected that, and it is so, so lovely and gorgeous in this little movie.
If you’ve watched it closely, then you might have noticed how it works with close-ups a lot.
Well, here’s something you might not have noticed (at least not consciously).
There is usually a specific way in which ‘conversation scenes’ are shot. (And no, I don’t mean any Tarantino-in-Inglorious-Basterds style sophistication; I just mean your average, run-off-the-mill TV show or movie.) You have probably seen it a thousand times already, without realizing it, but the shots in a ‘conversation scene’ usually follow a very specific order:
At first you get an establishing shot (often a long shot or a medium long shot), showing you who the two people in the scene are and what context this conversation is happening in.
Then you get a lot of over-the-shoulder shots that are usually shown in a shot-reverse-shot sequence, i.e. you see one character talking, then cut to the other character, then back again, etc.
At emotionally impactful moments in the conversation, you suddenly get a close-up (or sometimes a medium close-up) of the face that is a ‘clean shot’ (!), i.e. it doesn’t contain that over-the-shoulder element (the blurry shoulder or back of the head of the other character in the corner of the frame). This makes you subconsciously focus on that moment in the conversation and makes it stand out when compared to the over-the-shoulder shots you got before. It gives you the feeling that you’re truly seeing the character open up.
(Sometimes there are cutaway shots, if the editor needs them.)
This sequence of shots is so typical that you probably don’t even notice it anymore when you see it on screen. It’s like a reassuring routine; as a viewer, it gives you the feeling that you’re following something that you know very well and can trust not to visually throw something unexpected at you.
Now, let me tell you what Mischa Kamp did in her movie with that dialogue scene where Marc and Sieger talk about the bandana and the socks, about Sieger’s mother being dead…and most importantly, about how different the two boys’ approach to metaphorical ‘running’ is:
She skipped bullet point 2) entirely!
In a ‘conversation scene’, bullet point 2) from the list above, i.e. the over-the-shoulder shots (edited so they appear in a shot-reverse-shot order), is usually what makes up the bulk of the conversation. And Mischa Kamp cut that part completely.
In that scene, we first get a medium long shot of the two boys talking in a doorway, and I hesitate to even call this shot an ‘establishing shot’ because it’s so very long (which is unusual in and of itself because it creates this feeling in us that we’re eavesdropping on them, watching them through this open door).
Then, at the precise moment when Marc says that he’s noticed Sieger’s one-sock-up-one-sock-down routine, indicating (subtextually) that he understands Sieger isn’t fully ‘there’ yet, we cut to Sieger, but it’s not an over-the-shoulder shot like you would expect it to be: It’s a clean shot! And it’s very noticeable. Because these are reserved for emotional-high-impact moments.
You instantly sit up straighter and pay attention.
It creates this impression that Sieger is suddenly completely open and exposed. You get to fully see his face and his slight embarrassment at being called out about the metaphorical ‘socks’.
And then you get a similar clean shot of Marc as he begins to tell us that he just runs, that there are no rules for him when it comes to metaphorical ‘running’, that he sometimes doesn’t even notice what he’s done until he’s done it, subtextually telling us how he falls in love: head over heels.
The conversation continues in this way: just clean shots for both of them, and it makes the whole scene breathe this incredible emotional rawness and openness.
There are no over-the-shoulder shots in this scene at all!
These clean shots have a very shallow depth of field too, by the way, i.e. the background is out of focus, making us concentrate on the characters’ faces even more and drawing us in, showing us that these two boys themselves are so focused at looking at each other’s faces that everything around them just disappears.
Just looking at these shots, you understand that everything in this scene is incredibly impactful when it comes to the characters’ feelings and the way they experience them with each other in this very moment.
This film isn’t a high-budget production, but the way this scene has been shot shows you how you can achieve a lot with just a few simple cinematic tricks. I love it.
Another fascinating feature of the movie (and for me personally, the first one I noticed and the first one that really left an impression) is the way it works with very, very, very long focus pulls.
Pulling focus from one person or object in the foreground of a shot to a person or object in the background and back again isn’t unusual; it’s a pretty standard visual storytelling tool as far as camera work goes. If you’ve been around for our ‘Young Royals’ discussion, you do, of course, know that, on set, this is the work of a person called the ‘focus puller’ or ‘first camera assistant’, who does that with a focus ring around the lens of the camera (or via a remote wireless system with a monitor). To put it in simple terms, this guy (or gal) basically makes sure that what is important in the frame is sharp and in focus and everything else is blurry.
What this film does, however, is really something else! It leaves whole shots (the entire frame!) out of focus for very, very, very long and then slowly and gradually lets the lens regain focus.
In part, this decision may have been made just for aesthetic reasons, just as an element of the film’s overall look and feel, but I’m sure there’s more to it than just that: It shows us many of these long, long out-of-focus shots in moments of intense concentration, contemplation, even joy. These long focus pulls are a means to visualize thinking.
There’s a brilliant moment after the boys go swimming in the river: Sieger, Stef and Tom decide to go home for dinner, but Marc stays behind. Sieger cleverly waits till his best friend Stef bids him goodbye and rides off on his bike, then waits for a bit, making sure Stef cannot see him anymore…and then we can see Sieger ponder the big question, ‘Do I return to the river and to Marc or not?’ He is clearly trying to make up his mind there (to a subtly tolling bell in the background, that is announcing to us, the viewers, that this is actually quite a momentous decision, a moment that will change everything in Sieger’s life).
Sieger then finally turns his bike around, indicating his impulse to go back to Marc; then there’s a cut, and then we get a shot in which we see him ride his bicycle back to the river; he’s on the footpath on his bike and there are trees around him – and all of it is out of focus! For a very long time.
It takes quite a while until we finally get Sieger in focus again. It’s like the camera is literally showing us how much he is still pondering this question even as he is already on his way back to Marc, how out of focus everything is for him at this moment. And sure enough, a moment later Sieger spots Marc sitting by the river and almost doesn’t dare to walk up to him; he almost turns around again.
There are many moments like this in the film. Even that last beautiful scene that gives us Sieger and Marc on the motorcycle, weaves in and out of focus several times, showing us how their thoughts must fly ahead of them and then return to the here and now.
The scene after Sieger has first kissed Jessica is fascinating in this regard, as well: Sieger can be seen running up and down the stairs on the running track, again and again and again. The shot never regains focus and remains blurry throughout, showing us how much Sieger is struggling at that point in the story. The focus he so needs remains elusive.
Focus pulling as a way to visualize thinking.
In a film that is all about running (both literal running and metaphorical ‘running’, i.e. love), it makes sense to think about focus. Literally.
Sieger even mentions how important the right focus is for being a good runner. And the camera visualizes this important aspect of running. It does so not just in the scenes that literally show us people running on the track; it does so in the scenes that are about the metaphorical ‘running’, as well: Focus pulling is an art form in and of itself. And in this movie, it is used to highlight the way people think and, well, focus when they experience emotions and fall in love.
Apropos experience emotions…
You did notice the ‘water’ metaphor, of course, I hope?
The ‘water’ metaphor, whereby water represents feelings, isn’t exactly a rare occurrence in screenplays, and it shows up here, as well. Not as ubiquitous as on ‘Young Royals’, but it’s still definitely there.
The two boys kiss for the first time while they’re immersed in water. And once they really open themselves up for love, they do so facing the vast North Sea, waves crashing against the sand and all. From a small river to the unfathomable depth of the sea. A very beautiful and meaningful development.
Then there’s, of course, the fact that Marc jumps into the river fully clothed.
On the surface of the text, this just tells us that Marc is spontaneous and funny and likes a good challenge when told, “Let’s see who’s in the water first!” (and that he’s already trying to impress Sieger a little bit).
But, deeper down in the subtext (and I’m sure you’ve caught that, dear reader), this tells us something about the way Marc fell in love with Sieger: head over heels. We’re literally shown how he jump-falls off his bike and into the metaphorical ‘water’, grinning, laughing and splashing about. This boy fell for Sieger pretty much instantly; he jumped into those feelings right away. There was no stopping him.
I like the reaction shot of the half-baffled, half-amused Sieger we get here, and Sieger is already undressing to jump in, as well: He’s not that far behind. Yeah, Sieger was surprised and amused and impressed that this boy was suddenly showing him so much attention, and he wasn’t that far behind when it came to jumping into this metaphorical ‘water’ either.
The ‘handstand scene’ we discussed above is interesting, as well, in this regard. Did you catch it? As Marc walks around on his hands (subtextually showing us that he is ‘from the other side’) and Sieger prepares to start with his shuttle sprint exercises (subtextually telling us that he is still strictly adhering to the rules imposed on him), we get a ‘water’ reference, as well: Sieger is drinking water from a bottle. Marc might be the one doing the handstand (read: the one more obviously ‘from the other side’) and Sieger might still be trapped between the ‘lines’, and yet Sieger already has so, so many feelings. He’s recently been kissed by a boy, and no matter how cool he’s trying to play it in this scene…for him, there is a lot of metaphorical ‘water’ involved here already.
And then, there’s the suggestive scene in the shower, of course. Sieger has his eyes closed, and we’re meant to understand that he’s masturbating. The fact that it’s happening in the shower (and not, say, in bed) tells us that there’s a lot of metaphorical ‘water’ involved here, too. (And the closed eyes tell the same story, I suppose.)
And what does Sieger suggest he and Marc do when he is trying to make up with Marc after the whole town fair debacle? That they go swimming at night. The ‘water’ metaphor again. So, so many feelings with these two.
Well, and when Stef, towards the end of the movie, hints to Sieger that he knows about him and Marc and that he is completely okay with it, the scene actually starts by Sieger offering him water. It’s our cue that the next thing we’re going to hear is a conversation about feelings.
It’s difficult for them and they keep getting interrupted. It’s uncomfortable. And consequently, we see both Stef and Sieger shot through the glass pane of the window. But hey, at least there’s actual water involved. (And yes, we will get back to those window panes in a moment.)
The ‘water’ metaphor brings me to the most unusual shot in this entire movie:
I don’t think I’ve ever seen an overhead shot for a ‘first kiss scene’ before. It’s a very unusual choice because showing the character’s faces is usually so important for a proper ‘first kiss scene’.
Here we get only the outline of their shoulders and arms in this distinctive interlocked shape and their wet hair – and, of course, they’re surrounded by water. All of this metaphorical ‘water’ everywhere.
This shot, which was also used for the film’s promotional material, is so unusual and distinctive that it has led to a lot of speculation among reviewers and cinéastes. Some proposed this bird’s-eye shot might communicate a philosophical, even political message: ‘In the end, we’re all the same when seen from above. It doesn’t matter if we’re hetero or homo, if we’re a girl or a boy, when we’re in love and we kiss, we are all equal. It shouldn’t matter. Seen from above this could just as well be a girl and a boy, and the fact that we can’t really tell is deliberate.’
While that is certainly a lovely sentiment, I personally disagree. (Well, not with the message, of course, but I disagree that this is the message of this particular film shot. If you’ve been following this little blog for a while, you’ll know that we’re trying not to attribute meaning too broadly to very specific scenes and shots; we’re trying to find our meaning within the work of art itself.)
One of the reasons why I disagree with this reading is that it’s kinda hard to miss the obvious musculature in those arms and backs. Those are two boys. It’s instantly noticeable that they’re not a girl and a boy. What’s more, they actually turn around and both look up towards the end of the scene – that happens within the same shot (!). So, we actually get to see their faces and their torsos. (Never forget that a film shot is actually different from a painting in that the subjects in it constantly move around.)
After Sieger reciprocates, he actually dives deep, deep into the water, which is a lovely way to visualize the fact that the main protagonist of this film has just dived deep, deep into his feelings; he’s almost drowning in them after those two kisses. When he resurfaces, they both look up at the sky. We can clearly see that those are two boys…
So, here’s why I think this very distinctive bird’s-eye shot was chosen for their ‘first kiss scene’:
There is actually a matching shot in this film very early on:
The four boys are doing some strength exercises and Sieger and Marc have each other in a headlock. The camera is notably right below them for this, shooting upwards! It’s the other shot’s counterpart.
One gives us an overhead shot, shooting downwards, with the camera at a 90° angle above the boys. And the earlier one gives us the exact opposite of it.
In both of them, their arms are interlocked in a very similar way.
The shots are two puzzle pieces that fit together and have to be read together. Which means that whatever is being said during that ‘workout scene’ is actually relevant for that silent moment in the water when they kiss.
During the ‘workout scene’, Marc jokes, “Have you started yet? Let me know when you’re ready.” Then he adds, “It wouldn’t be fair if I were to start while you still needed time.”
The subtext here isn’t exactly subtle:
Once Marc really ‘starts’, Sieger won’t know what hit him. Marc is further along on the whole coming-of-age/coming-out-to-himself axis and he’s comfortable being who he is. Sieger still needs time. Once ‘it’ really starts, Sieger doesn’t stand a chance…
In that ‘first kiss scene’, we get the matching shot. (Note that we once again get an instance of something getting flipped: What’s getting flipped here is the camera angle!)
There’s no dialogue in that ‘first-kiss scene’. No teasing. No flirting. Nothing anymore. Just two boys completely immersed in the metaphorical ‘water’. And then…Marc does, indeed, ‘start’: He kisses Sieger, opening the door to what becomes Sieger’s struggle and the plot of the whole movie. Sieger still needs time! It’s exactly like the ‘workout scene’ foreshadowed.
With these two shots the beauty lies in the little differences: How tight and tense their arms are wound around each other in that ‘headlock-workout shot’. And how relaxed these arms are in the water when they kiss. These shots match, but they are also opposites. They are flipped.
There are, of course, the more obvious metaphors in this film, as well.
You probably picked up on the fact that the sense of smell represents attraction and sexual desire, right?
Sieger’s father tells his sons as much: In a display of completely unperturbed heteronormativity, he tells Eddy to put that (nice-smelling) shower gel away, or he’ll be assailed by pretty ladies. And we’re specifically told that Stef’s mother buys the same shower gel for her husband.
From there, we can extrapolate what this ‘smell’ metaphor means when Sieger and Stef approach the two girls in the street and Stef turns on his flirtmaster-extraordinaire charm by sniffing Kim’s neck.
The scene is played for laughs, and yet it boasts some interesting subtext: The names of the perfumes that the two boys guess here obviously represent how they feel about the two girls respectively (because smelling represents physical attraction).
Stef first guesses that Kim smells of ‘Beyoncé’, which (subtextually) tells you how he feels about this girl: That’s how pretty he thinks she is. And while that turns out to be wrong (like, seriously, Stef, come on! Manage your expectations a bit; Beyoncé, seriously?), the next guess hits the bull’s eye: ‘J’adore’.
Because that’s what he actually feels for Kim. He adores her (since that first time he saw her).
It’s all the more noticeable then that Sieger sniffs Jessica and says, “Adidas.” That’s the blandest description of a girl’s scent you could possibly think of. What’s worse: He’s actually right.
Note that the boys are trying to sniff the girls’ necks. We go from Sieger barely managing to be close to Jessica’s neck as he stiffly and awkwardly leans in her general direction…to him tenderly kissing Marc’s neck later on as the two boys look at those metaphorical ‘deer’. Just saying.
This ‘smell’ metaphor is so obvious you can pretty much see it from outer space. But it pays off nicely later on when we see Sieger flick through a magazine at the breakfast table, looking at an advert for ‘Pure’. The advert shows a runner – a male runner. You get an intersection of four different symbolically meaningful elements in this shot:
The ‘smell’ metaphor for physical attraction. The ‘running’ metaphor for relationships and love that, well, runs through this whole film. (After all, it’s a runner in the advert.) You get the undeniable fact that this runner is a man! And the word ‘pure’ is pretty much written all over it.
When it comes to love, this shot tells us, Sieger is attracted to men pure and simple.
And Sieger is silently contemplating the advert, then quickly hiding the page when his brother and father look at him over the breakfast table. So, he is clearly pondering this very question: Who am I attracted to?
And please keep in mind that this moment with the magazine happens right after the ‘trampoline scene’: Sieger has been visually flipped around. No wonder he is giving this some thought now.
The shot with the ‘Pure’ advert isn’t difficult to read, but I like it because it lets several different symbolic elements interact with each other. (And if you want to read this as a sign that Sieger’s love for Marc is ‘pure’, sure…why not. It’s definitely natural and normal.)
On that note, I hope you’ve noticed how often Sieger is shot through glass panes in this film. He is trapped behind the window pane of that ice cream parlour when he (very unsubtly) complains about the taste of his fries being too bland and then goes on to kiss Jessica, for example.
This shot is actually pretty brilliant (and I don’t think I can possibly sketch that and give it any justice): There’s a reflection in the glass window, you see, and that reflection runs right over Jessica and Sieger as they kiss. It’s the reflection of a middle-aged couple, a man and a woman, walking along the street.
Reflections in window panes are always interesting in movies. And very often they provide us, the viewers, with a lot of subtext.
If Sieger keeps kissing Jessica instead of Marc, he will forever be trapped behind a metaphorical ‘glass pane’ like that where everything will taste bland like those fries till he grows old. Old with a woman who he doesn’t love and who he will have to spend his life with nonetheless. That’s why we see that middle-aged couple visually walk across our two protagonists in that reflection in the glass.
But back to Sieger constantly being trapped behind glass panes…
When he gets that stuffed teddy bear out of the claw machine for Jessica, they are are filmed through the glass pane of the claw machine itself, the claw ominously hanging at the centre of the frame.
And before he makes his final decision, towards the end of the movie, to steal Eddy’s motorcycle, we get a shot of him through the window of his home, as well.
All of these are unnatural situations, situations where he is trapped like a goldfish in a fish bowl. He’s behind glass.
Compare that to the way he is usually being framed with Marc: Rivers, trees, the sky, sandy dunes, the sea…
There it is again: Homosexuality as something natural and beautiful. Heterosexuality as something artificial and suffocating where Sieger’s is concerned.
Shall we talk about the mirroring for a bit, then?
Because this film does it so very, very subtly that it’s barely noticeable. But there are, indeed, several mirror characters in this film that provide us with some interesting subtextual information about the main characters.
In case you don’t know what mirror characters are, let me quickly explain that: A mirror character is a storytelling device that helps a writer to hide subtextual information about a main character that they don’t want to show explicitly. As such, a mirror character is usually a side character (sometimes a really minor one) who shares superficial traits with one of the main protagonists to make it easier to recognize who he or she is mirroring. Things the mirror character says or does are actually thoughts, wishes and desires (and sometimes actions) of the main protagonist! The writer has cleverly hidden them by attaching them to this minor character instead of telling us that they actually apply to the main character.
Don’t get distracted by the fact that mirror characters are often funny sidekicks; when a mirror character does or says something in a comedic way, this does subtextually still apply to the main protagonist he or she is mirroring. It’s just that for the main protagonist in question that funny thing that was said or done isn’t supposed to be read as funny. It is often dead serious when mirrored back onto the main protagonist.
The mirror characters in this film are very unobtrusive and not as easy to spot as in some other films and TV shows, but let me tell you a little secret: ‘Jongens’ was originally conceived as a film about football. Yes, Sieger was originally supposed to be a football player.
But the film was actually produced for television (and only later released for the cinema), which meant a really tiny budget. And big football stadium scenes would have blown up the expense side of the equation, so the whole thing was rewritten.
While football scenes would have obviously been great (so much potential for subtext with eleven guys on each side of the pitch) and would have fit a Dutch football-crazy context, I don’t think the film suffers because of this change in direction. To the contrary, I really appreciate the quiet focus and concentration we get with this ‘running’ metaphor and Sieger as a runner.
But here comes the interesting question: If the writers could have made Sieger anything, anything at all, why didn’t they make him, say, a high jumper, or even just a solitary sprinter?
Instead, they created this whole relay racing context for their story, which automatically gives you four runners.
Why?
Two of the boys are obviously the main protagonists, the ones who are going to fall in love with each other over the course of the story. So…who are the other two? Just narrative ballast?
Just Stef-the-best-friend-Stef who gets a funny side storyline and a mostly silent Tom who doesn’t get one at all?
Or do these two side characters serve another function in the text, as well? One that gives us additional information about the two main protagonists?
There are exactly two main protagonists…and exactly two side characters like that, after all.
Are those two side characters perhaps acting as mirror characters in a really subtle way?
Look at it in this way: Even though Sieger and Marc are both the main protagonists of the story, we find out much more about Sieger, simply because we follow him through the narrative. It’s his point of view that we’re taking throughout the whole film. How are we going to find out things about Marc? We see Sieger struggle; we see him contemplate things, trying to make up his mind; we practically see his thought processes…But how do we find out what Marc is thinking and feeling?
For a writer, this isn’t a trivial question; he or she needs to make writing decisions based on questions like these, after all. And a writer has tools for that in his or her toolbox: tools like mirror characters.
What is happening in this film’s screenplay is that the two side characters Stef and Tom mirror the two main protagonists in the following way:
Stef=Marc
Tom=Sieger
It’s very subtle, and you don’t get a lot of hints (through costuming choices or whatnot) that this is, in fact, what’s going on, but it’s definitely there.
Let’s first talk about how we can determine that Stef is Marc’s mirror character:
As characters, both Marc and Stef resemble each other (at least superficially, the way a mirror and a mirrored character are supposed to): Both are funny, more outgoing and more extraverted than Sieger. Both are played by curly-haired actors. And both are said to hail from loving and intact families. (That story about Stef’s mother buying that nice-smelling shower gel for Stef’s father isn’t just there for funsies; it’s there to point out a superficial resemblance. Stef, too, is from a home where the parents love each other. Just like Marc.)
There’s also the fact that Stef is called Stef: Stef is a Dutch given name or short form of the given name Stefan/Stefaan. It is derived from the Greek name Stéphanos, meaning ‘wreath’ or ‘crown’.
The name of a mirror character doesn’t tell us anything about the mirror character (because that’s just an unimportant side character); it’s there to tell us something about the mirrored character, i.e. the main protagonist the side character is mirroring. In other words, the name Stef tells us something about Marc. Marc is going to be crowned with a wreath, well, metaphorically speaking; Marc is going to win. Just like Sieger (whose name we’ve already talked about). Sieger and Marc are going to win together. And not just during that literal relay race, but in the metaphorical ‘running’ context, as well. They are going to win each other’s love. They are both winners who will defeat something over the course of this story to be together.
There’s another reason why Stef being Marc’s mirror makes all the sense in the world:
Hiding a mirror character for a love interest in the side character that’s actually the protagonist’s best friend is not an unusual way to tell a story and to flesh out the characters in them. After all, both the best friend and the love interest are the two people closest to the main protagonist (in this case, Sieger). They’re both people he loves (albeit in different ways). It’s a standard writing procedure, really. It’s Tom, largely silent and line-deprived Tom, who is a bit unusual in this story, but we should appreciate him very much, and I will tell you in a minute why.
Tom is the character we barely ever hear say a word. He literally doesn’t get any lines (although he gets one very memorable and important scene which we will get to later). That is by design, as well: He mirrors Sieger who is quiet and introverted. So, what better way to point that out than through a mirror character who barely ever opens his mouth (well, as for the mouth-opening part…more on that later).
We don’t need that much from Tom anyway because Sieger doesn’t really need an elaborate mirror character: We follow Sieger through the narrative with our own eyes. We can see what it is that he is thinking and feeling. We see the whole story from his point of view.
With Marc, things are different: He’s a main protagonist whose point of view the story doesn’t take, so we need a more active mirror character to find out stuff about him. And we get that in Stef; Stef gets his own little side storyline for that reason.
But back to Tom: Tom is the short form of the given name Thomas. And while the meaning of that name (Thomas literally means ‘twin’) doesn’t give us anything interesting (after all, Sieger is not a twin), this name was probably picked for a different reason: The most famous Thomas every writer knows about, of course, is the Apostle Thomas from the New Testament. (That’s the sceptic who refused to believe in Jesus’s resurrection until he was allowed to touch Jesus’s wounds.) The Apostle Thomas is where we get the expression ‘Doubting Thomas’ from.
Now, remember what I said above: A mirror character’s name tells us something about the mirrored main protagonist, not about the mirror character himself. It’s Sieger who’s the Doubting Thomas in our story – the guy who hesitates and struggles and doubts and keeps wondering what choices to make and which narrative path to pick: the one that leads to Jessica or to Marc.
The most obvious way in which these four protagonists, these four runners, act as mirrors and mirrored characters for each other is, of course, the order in which they run, which is specifically pointed out to us by their coach: Stef is the first runner, followed by Tom, who is supposed to pick up the baton from him. These are the two mirror characters. Then we get the exact same setup: Marc is the next runner, and Sieger is supposed to pick up the baton from him. Stef mirrors Marc and Tom mirrors Sieger, this tells us.
So, now that we have found out that Stef and Tom are mirror characters for Marc and Sieger, what is it that we actually find out about our main protagonists by looking at their mirrors?
Let’s start with Marc and his mirror Stef:
What we find out about Marc by looking at Stef is just how quickly he was smitten with Sieger, for example.
Just look at that scene in which Stef first encounters the girl in the purple jacket: Kim. (And yes, logic dictates that Kim mirrors Sieger here; I don’t make the rules. It’s actually absolutely possible that the name Kim was chosen by the writers for that very reason: Kim is a gender-neutral name. It might be a hint that she’s mirroring a boy in this story – Sieger.)
Both Marc and Stef first catch sight of their respective love interests from afar! This is an important parallel that we should immediately pay attention to.
Marc first catches sight of Sieger on the running track, sitting on the steps and looking over to him as Sieger runs. And Stef first notices Kim (a.k.a. the girl in the purple jacket) from across the street.
This tells us that the two scenes actually mirror each other, just like Marc and Stef mirror each other.
And we even get a little subtextual hint that this is the case: As Stef stares at Kim and talks to Sieger about how he wants to approach her, Sieger’s brother Eddy suddenly and unexpectedly appears behind them and makes a homophobic joke; he literally calls both of them gay and shoves Stef.
While on the surface of the text, this just shows us that Eddy is an idiot who’s full of himself, this moment serves a different function in the subtext:
Subtextually, we are being told here that this scene that we’re watching (the one in which Stef is staring at Kim from afar) is actually a gay scene, a scene between two boys who are gay: What we’re seeing is a mirror scene for the scene in which Marc first caught sight of Sieger from afar on that running track.
From this we can extrapolate what Marc actually felt when he first saw Sieger: Stef is instantly very attracted to Kim. Even from afar. He notices her right away, and it’s an overwhelming attraction. It’s one of those ‘at-first-sight’ kinda feelings.
This is what we’re being told about Marc’s feelings as he first saw Sieger: Marc noticed Sieger from afar and was instantly attracted to him. That’s why that funny scene with Stef exists in the first place. (And that’s why Eddy subtextually marks it out as a ‘gay scene’ with his homophobic joke.)
(This is a standard storytelling tool writers employ to tell their audience something about a main character; they do so by hiding the information in an unobtrusive side character and his (oftentimes funny) storyline.)
Kim isn’t just wearing a purple jacket, by the way; she is wearing hot pants in that scene, which really accentuate her long legs. And we can practically see Stef’s tongue hanging out as he stares at those long, long legs. I’m willing to bet that this costuming idea was a deliberate choice, as well: Marc noticed Sieger on the track. Sieger was running. Marc noticed this long-limbed beautiful guy running incredibly fast. He noticed Sieger’s body. He did see him from afar after all. That’s what you would notice in a runner: his long legs.
Stef then wonders how to approach Kim and what exactly to say to her. But he ultimately never gets to say his pickup line because he never gets close enough; she is already gone. It’s a funny scene in which Stef (as a mirror character) acts out something (physical attraction) in a comedic way.
But things that are comedic about a mirror character are often dead serious when mirrored back onto the mirrored main protagonist, remember?
Which means that Stef’s funny pickup line that Stef intended to use on Kim, “You have beautiful eyes,” is actually Marc’s line…or rather: his thought. His very serious and genuine thought.
(Keep in mind that mirror characters tell us things explicitly that are only implicit about the mirrored main protagonist!)
And while we, the audience, laugh about Stef with his ice-cream cone, never getting to use his line on Kim, Marc actually does get a bit closer to Sieger the first time they interact: Marc sprints by. And he specifically sprints backwards, which absolutely baffles and surprises Sieger.
And while there’s certainly a ‘van-de-verkeerde-kant’ subtext going on here again (Marc is once again shown to be ‘from the other side’, i.e. flipped), it’s more than just that: We actually see Marc check out Sieger. He looks into his eyes.
And the mirror character (Stef) in his mirrored scene in front of the ice cream parlour just tells us what Marc’s thoughts were at that moment when he sprinted by and looked at Sieger: Marc looked into Sieger’s eyes and realized they were beautiful.
Aaaaand…that’s the way you hide subtext as a writer.
You see the mirroring between Stef and Marc in their gestures, as well.
When the four boys ride their bikes to the river to go swimming, Marc keeps flirt-teasing Sieger by putting his foot on Sieger’s bike. Just a boys-being-boys-and-horsing-around-a-bit kind of gesture on the surface of the text, but you can instantly see how these two are connecting.
Later, when Stef, Tom and Sieger have left Marc behind by the river and are returning home, you can briefly see Stef (Marc’s mirror) tapping his foot against Tom’s bike (Tom is Sieger’s mirror), and once it’s just the two of them, Stef (Marc’s mirror) does it to Sieger’s bike, as well.
A big gesture for Marc and a more subtle one for his mirror Stef, which is to be expected for a mirror character.
We can also see the mirroring clearly when they first decide to go swimming together: It happens on the running track (that uber-metaphor for relationships and falling in love). And it’s actually Stef who suggests they go. Stef mirrors Marc, and since we already know there is a ‘water’ metaphor in this film, we get a hint here that it’s actually Marc who (subtextually) suggests he and Sieger jump into those metaphorical feelings with each other. It’s no coincidence that the first person to react and agree to go swimming is Tom, Sieger’s mirror.
So, Marc’s mirror (Stef) suggests it, and Sieger’s mirror (Tom) agrees, mirroring what is actually happening between the two main protagonists emotionally: Marc is faster at expressing his feelings towards Sieger, but it’s not that Sieger isn’t interested and deeply emotionally invested. He really wants this, too. He agrees.
Mirror characters are often employed, so they can act out something explicitly that is only implicit about the main protagonists they’re mirroring: That’s why this suggestion comes from Stef and that’s why it’s Tom who reacts to it.
By the way, since I just mentioned how deeply emotionally invested in his own silent way Sieger already is at this point: Look at what Sieger is doing just as Stef suggests they go swimming: He’s chugging water like there’s no tomorrow. A lot of metaphorical ‘water’ is involved where that boy is concerned despite the fact that he’s so quiet and doesn’t say a lot.
Once they’re on their bikes and racing towards the river, it’s also Stef who yells, “Let’s see who’s in the water first!” And then it’s, of course, Marc who jumps into the metaphorical ‘water’ like he falls in love: head over heels, happily and with great joy. Stef pretty much challenges everyone (i.e. Marc’s mirror is throwing up a challenge to Sieger) and then Marc is really the first one to dive in.
You can obviously look at more scenes in which Stef interacts with Sieger and easily see how he is mirroring Marc (prefiguring him in Sieger’s life in a sense and foreshadowing future events).
There is a scene in which Sieger and Stef are goofing around, spraying each other with cologne/deodorant and God-only-knows-what in a shop. And while on the surface of the text, this is just standard ‘teenage boy behaviour’, the subtext goes a bit deeper than that: There’s a ‘smell’ metaphor on this show, as we have already seen. It represents sexual attraction. This doesn’t mean that Stef is literally attracted to Sieger (Stef is straight; that much is pretty obvious). But Stef is also a mirror character interacting with a metaphor here. Stef and Sieger spraying each other in a playful and funny way shows us these first steps that Sieger and Marc take where they’re already really attracted to each other, but are also still acting like teenagers, horsing around, playing with this new-found feeling in life: attraction.
The mirroring obviously gives us a new layer of subtext for that scene in which Stef and Sieger sniff the two girls, too.
Since Stef (subtextually) represents Marc and Kim (subtextually) represents Sieger, we’re clearly shown how strongly Marc is actually attracted to Sieger.
This gives us a new explanation for why ‘Beyoncé’ is actually the wrong answer in that scene: Sieger is no Beyoncé. Sieger isn’t a girl!
But once Stef (read: Marc) says, “J’adore,” he hits the bull’s eye. In other words, this doesn’t just tell us something about Stef’s feelings for Kim, this tells us what Marc feels for Sieger…whom he has just met: Marc absolutely adores Sieger. That’s literally the nature of his attraction (metaphorically: the name of the scent). His attraction isn’t just painted in the colours of, ‘I like him. I think he’s got pretty eyes,’ no, Marc absolutely adores Sieger. It’s all very sweet.
Is it time to talk about that whole ‘ice cream’ metaphor now? I think so.
That ice cream represents sexual seduction is obvious and not exactly subtle, all things considered. After all, it’s Sieger who suggests buying one more soft ice, so Stef can go and woo his girl.
It doesn’t work, and the girls are already gone. But please note that it’s Sieger who comes up with this scheme. It’s interesting that this quiet and introverted boy Sieger is trying out being the seducer and schemer here. (We can see this later on, as well, when he tries to joke-flirt with the girls by saying that he and Stef have been thinking about them, “Night and day.”)
That whole scheme in front of the ice cream shop doesn’t work, and Kim is already gone. Sieger’s seduction idea falls through.
Because (subtextually) Sieger doesn’t need to be the seducer in this story, he needs to be the one who’s being seduced. He needs to be the one who’s courted and wooed. The tables have to be turned on him (even more ‘flipping’ in the narrative, I suppose), which is exactly what happens when Marc directs the whole power of his smile and courtship at Sieger by inviting him to have some sorbet with him.
And Marc doesn’t just take Sieger to an ice cream shop for that. Marc is the ice cream shop.
He plays the ice cream man with Sieger, catering to his every wish with a wink and a smile. The tables have been truly turned on Sieger here. Which might be the reason why the camera breaks the 180-degree rule at that particular moment when Sieger and Marc are standing in front of Marc’s house looking at the ice cream cart: At first Marc is on the right side of the frame and Sieger on the left, and just as Marc reads out the suggestions, there’s a cut, and they swap sides: Sieger is now on the right and Marc on the left. (Which is achieved by moving the camera to the exact opposite side of the set, or in cinematic jargon, have it ‘jump across the 180-degree line’.)
The tables of seduction have been truly turned on Sieger. Now Sieger is being courted. And this time, the seduction is really working. Sieger ends up with that sorbet in his mouth. They both do. (And with that jump across the 180-degree line, we get another ‘flip’ in a sense: Sieger needs to be flipped in every which way in this story, it seems.)
It’s also interesting what Marc has on offer here in the courtship/seduction arena: He offers Sieger, “Pear sticks, Mini Magnets and Turbulence.”
You don’t need to have any supernatural subtext-reading skills to understand that those are, of course, symbolically significant: The two boys are attracted to each other as if there were actual mini magnets coursing through their bloodstreams, pulling them towards each other. And it’s clear that this whole situation between them will create quite some turbulence for Sieger, who has a real struggle ahead of him. As for the pear sticks that they actually seem to end up with in their mouths, we all understand what those stand for, right?
We’ll get back to that ice-cream situation in a second, but let’s introduce some mirroring into the mix, okay? Sieger actually tells Stef how to approach (‘seduce’) Kim. Stef mirrors Marc, as we have seen, and Kim mirrors Sieger himself. This means that (at least subtextually) Sieger has already told Marc that he wants to be courted by him. Sieger tells Stef how to do it. And Marc, then, does exactly that.
Note also how Stef and Sieger actually end up chasing each other around that big hamburger in that scene. Actual-literal-Stef is supposed to chase actual-literal-Kim, of course. But mirror-Stef (the one who’s basically just a storytelling device representing Marc) is chasing Sieger, not a girl. Round and round and round and Sieger is running away. Which is, after all, exactly what we’re seeing in the film.
(And if you want to read that hamburger as the, uhm, real meat here, the ‘sexuality elephant’ in the room, go for it. That’s the thing that Stef, i.e. Marc, and Sieger keep circling and circling and circling, after all.)
That whole scene is so clever because it combines two layers of text: a layer in which the characters act as themselves and a layer in which they act as mirrors.
In chasing Sieger around the hamburger, Stef mirrors Marc.
But he is also himself in that scene. Stef is straight, and we are told so via a very unsubtle metaphor:
I hope I don’t have to point out the difference between the soft ice and the sorbet?
And no, it’s not just because one of them is, well, soft and the other one is basically a hard rod. It’s also because soft ice is something that you, uhm, lick and eat out…of a cup. And sorbet on a stick is something that you, ahem, suck.
I think we all understand what that means. (And if you are, indeed, a teacher and are watching and discussing this film with your students, this is the part that I personally would probably skip. Not every bit of symbolism is suitable for every age group, and the film has enough other interesting symbolic bells and whistles. But that’s obviously for you to decide. The creators of this film made very sure this movie turned out innocent and suitable for younger viewers on the surface of the text, so personally, I wouldn’t ruin that. There’s a reason why subtext is subtext, not text. But your mileage may vary on this.)
Note that Sieger never actually eats his soft ice while Stef ends up with his whole face in it. Uhm, yeah…so, that happened.
The film visually tells us who likes (or would like) to do what in the bedroom.
Because while Sieger is never shown to put his tongue anywhere near that soft ice (the soft ice that he ordered, after all, just like he will decide to give that whole fake relationship with Jessica a try later on), he can be seen sucking on that pear sick with Marc with great gusto.
The ‘pear stick scene’ is played for laughs, of course, because it’s a mirror scene, and mirror scenes tend to do that; we hear Sieger slurp and Marc chuckle and call him an idiot, but one thing is clear: Sucking on this pear stick is what Sieger enjoys; that soft ice is not really his kind of thing. (Note that we get a really explicit shot of Sieger sucking on that sorbet stick: The story is being told from his point of view; it’s not that Marc isn’t doing the same thing there.)
Now, you could, of course, argue that the fact alone that we have this whole metaphorical ‘soft-ice’/‘sorbet stick’ juxtaposition doesn’t necessarily have to mean that the characters have actually engaged in these specific sexual acts with their respective partners. This could just be symbolism, telling us what the character’s would enjoy doing, in other words disclosing their sexual orientation to us. This doesn’t have to literally mirror something that actually happened.
And I would agree with you (because in general that’s the way symbolism works; it sometimes just tells us something about the character, not necessarily about what said character has literally done and acted out)...I would agree with you…if it weren’t for Tom (told you we would get back to that guy).
Tom is a very subtle mirror for Sieger.
The morning after…yes, I really said that, because that’s exactly what it is: a ‘morning after’ scene…The morning after Sieger and Marc spend the night on that beach, Tom can be seen pretty much stuffing his face with bread, and to emphasize what is going on here, Marc (of all people) then hands him a banana.
The banana isn’t exactly subtle symbolism, and yet it might be a bit confusing until you realize that Tom is a mirror character throughout this whole film and that he’s mirroring Sieger.
The dialogue actually even calls attention to this: Marc makes fun of Tom and asks if it will all fit into his mouth. (This points to exactly the kind of thoughts people have when they’re still very inexperienced at this whole blowjob thing, alright?)
The scene is played for laughs in the way mirror scenes tend to be, but you can obviously see the clear sexual subtext here (wondering if it will fit in, good grief, the writers certainly had some fun there…and they clearly knew exactly what sort of situation they were hinting at).
We get an emphasis on Tom (read: Sieger) because this whole film is told from Sieger’s point of view, but we’ve already seen Marc suck down on his sorbet quite as eagerly earlier on and lie in Sieger’s lap on that trampoline, so you know that this was a mutual kinda thing on that beach.
In other words, after the night of the beach, two boys (Marc and Sieger) sit at the breakfast table, looking relaxed like a married couple during Sunday brunch after some really good sex; they are then joined by two mirror characters, one of whom (Stef) jumps a ‘hurdle’ to get to their table (mirroring Marc who’s usually the hurdle-jumper in this film, both figuratively and literally) and one of whom (Tom) shows us exactly what they did that night on the beach by unsubtly stuffing his mouth with phallic-shaped food.
So, that whole ‘sorbet-and-trampoline scene’ is, of course, a deeply significant scene that mirrors and foreshadows what will happen on that beach later on.
In both scenes, we first see an allegorical mother figure and her kid appear to the boys’ surprise (Marc’s mother and Neeltje in one, and the roe deer and her fawn in the other), showing us that to be able to experience romantic and erotic love, you need to have been exposed to parental love and the innocence of childhood first.
We get Neeltje then, horsing around with the boys, showing us that you need to be playful, you need to have been a real child with a real warm and lovely childhood to learn how to love someone romantically later on. (Note that Marc flips Neeltje, this personification of innocence and childhood around in a somersault, then asks Sieger to do the same: Be playful, but also flip the expectations of this childhood of yours around now. And Sieger then flips Neeltje, as well. A lot of flipping has to be done for Sieger to come to terms with himself.)
They then play around some more with Neeltje (that innocence of childhood, clearly disclosed as such to us by the fact that we’re specifically told that she locked herself into a toilet on the day of her parents wedding). And then Neeltje leaves!
Just like the roe deer and her fawn are specifically shown to be leaving after Sieger kisses Marc’s neck.
Parental love and an innocent childhood are important for your internal software, for the way you tick and engage with your own playful, loving and feminine side. But it’s like the background music in your brain, you’re not literally thinking of your mother or your sister when you’re about to have sex with a boy you like, Heaven forbid. These concepts have influenced you and made you who you are, but at some point, it’s just you and that boy. And that’s why they leave.
And that’s also exactly the point in the ‘trampoline scene’ where we see Sieger flip all the way around like a pancake in a pan, and mirrored onto that ‘beach scene’ that means something, of course: Sieger lets go, for one night, lets go of his fears and is intimate with the boy he likes.
We get a lot of struggling afterwards: Sieger looks a bit shell-shocked when they slink back into their room…and then happy and relaxed during that breakfast…and then contemplative and worried again on the bus. It’s difficult for him to digest what happened on that beach.
And yes, it definitely happened.
Look, if you need any more evidence, remember that that ‘trampoline scene’ mirrors the ‘beach scene’ and then remember that we’re visually told that Marc’s head was already in Sieger’s lap, alright? Just…you know, flipped. The other way around.
And remember also that we got a shot on that trampoline that was reminiscent of a bedroom shot, just…flipped, as well. Flipping our expectations on its head in that it was shot from below and through the trampoline itself. But it was nonetheless a typical intimate locking-eyes-in-bed kind of shot.
(It’s really obvious even if you disregard all the subtext and the mirroring ‘sorbet-and-trampoline scene’. You don’t just put two teenage boys who are this smitten on a beach in the middle of the night, as a writer…and then have them stare at some seagulls for a couple of hours.)
It also makes Sieger’s betrayal quite a bit more serious afterwards, don’t you think? It adds depth to Marc’s hurt.
They had sex that night. And you can see that Sieger is in two minds about it, and that, to Marc, this was a wonderful experience.
Marc has his head on Sieger’s shoulder in the bus and is fast asleep, unguarded and happy. Sieger is awake.
Note the brilliant little nuance the filmmakers introduced here:
Stef is asleep too, draped all over the coach’s shoulder in the same way Marc is leaning on Sieger in his sleep. Stef is notably not sleeping on Tom’s shoulder, which would have been the most logical mirroring choice, what with Tom being Sieger’s mirror.
Instead, Tom is sleeping across the aisle in a different seat. Tom mirrors Sieger, so this shows us that Sieger is already somewhat separated from Marc during this bus ride.
Physically, they’re very close. Marc has his head on Sieger’s bare shoulder and Sieger has his cheek pressed into Marc’s curls. And yet Sieger’s mirror character is already across the aisle in a different seat, foreshadowing the fact that Sieger will go his own way in the second half of the film: alone without Marc, and, well, like a sleepwalker right into Jessica’s arms.
Should we talk about the shoes, too? Did you notice them, dear reader?
In a film that has a major ‘running’ metaphor (for relationships and love), shoes are, of course, important. Shoes are your running equipment, after all. The things that make it possible for you to metaphorically ‘run’ in life.
As Marc openly courts Sieger with his sorbet in front of his house, Marc’s mother looks out the window with her daughter, signifying that Marc grew up with the reassurance of parental love and the innocence of childhood. He is allowed to be all the things that Sieger isn’t allowed to be: playful and silly and soft and tender with whoever he likes.
Marc’s mother then specifically tells Marc that she’s put his shoes in his room!
The equipment for running (i.e. the mental equipment for being able to love somebody without anxiety or fear) has been put in his room by his mum. That’s what this tells us.
And tellingly, we are shown the exact opposite at Sieger’s place: Eddy comes home at the beginning of the film, and his father reprimands him. (What the dad basically means here is, “Eddy take off your shoes!”)
We get a shot with Eddy on the sofa, in which the shoes are the most important visual element in the frame, and Eddy then actually takes them off, calling his father ‘boss’.
This father doesn’t mentally equip his children for metaphorical ‘running’, i.e. falling in love. He doesn’t know how to do that. The film shows this to us very subtly and without passing judgement on the struggling widower, but it tells us how difficult this must be for both boys.
Note that we’re told that Eddy used to run himself when their mother was still alive. Sieger’s older brother isn’t really capable of unlocking that softer side in him anymore now that their mother is dead. He stopped ‘running’. He stopped trying. He is trapped in his macho routine. He can’t just be himself and emotionally engage with anyone anymore since their mother tragically died in an accident.
At least, Sieger can: Sieger still runs. And he is fast. But he is running with one sock up and one sock down (halfway there, only half emotionally equipped). And he counts all the steps and overanalyzes every little detail about it: an overthinker who doesn’t really know how to interact and emotionally engage with someone he might like or even be falling for.
Note how we’re explicitly told that Sieger has new shoes when he gets on the bus that will take them to their training camp.
It’s, of course, Marc who notices it. Sieger has new shoes. And Sieger says they have thicker soles now.
Sieger has interacted with Marc a few times at this point; they have kissed in the river. Sieger has been to his home and has interacted with Marc’s mother and sister. Sieger is filled with new emotions that, while confusing, also feel like a new protective layer. A completely new mental equipment that he is still trying out. Sieger is mentally re-equipping himself through Marc, recharging his batteries with something he hasn’t known since his mother passed.
And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Sieger’s father gives Sieger those shoelaces as a present and lucky charm for his metaphorical ‘relay race’: a tiny, tiny glimmer of hope. Not the full shoe yet, but something. Something to equip him with. It will be difficult this ‘running race’ (i.e. Sieger’s life as someone who loves a guy); it will be difficult because he has this father and this brother, but it’s not a hopeless situation on the home front. That father isn’t a monster. He’s just struggling. It will take time, but he will come around, one shoelace at a time.
Note that we’re specifically not shown that one-sock-up-one-sock-down combo during their final race that this whole movie is geared towards. We got a very conspicuous close-up of it at the very beginning of the movie, but it wouldn’t make any sense at this point anymore.
Sieger is almost there now. Sieger isn’t this ‘halfway-there-halfway-not’ boy anymore. Sieger has almost grown up (emotionally speaking) at this point in the story.
And he has to win. Of course, he does. He’s called Sieger, after all, and his run isn’t just a literal one; this is a metaphor for love. His love for Marc. The fact that they actually win the race foreshadows that he’s going to win in that other arena, as well. He’s going to defeat his fears and grow up emotionally.
And yes, of course, you can read that baton as a sexual metaphor, but at least here, I do actually think it’s more nuanced and far more than just a phallic symbol (although that definitely plays into it, as well): Sieger has to pick up the cue. Sieger has to finally pick up on the fact how much he is loved and what he is missing out on if he doesn’t take that love from Marc. If he doesn’t manage to pick it up, then they’re both going to lose. He’s going to lose. He’s going to be devastated, and he’s going to miss out on so much in life: happiness, emotional maturation, romantic fulfilment, emancipation from his background and, yes, a sexually fulfilling relationship, as well. With a guy (that’s why it’s a baton, after all). But it’s far more than just a silly haha-phallic-symbol-ahoy. Sieger has to notice and realize something; he has to pick up on something. And Marc is ready to give him that something, that love and that happiness. Sieger just has to stretch out his hand and take it. And then they can both win.
During their rehearsal run after the training camp, it goes disastrously wrong, paralleling the fact that Sieger is currently pursuing a fake relationship with a girl that doesn’t make him happy. He literally doesn’t ‘get it’. And that’s why everyone loses (all the mirror characters in the film, too). It’s during the actual championships that he finally works it out, foreshadowing his eventual return to Marc at the end of the movie. Stef (Marc’s mirror) hands over the baton to Tom (Sieger’s mirror). Marc hands it over to Sieger. And Sieger finally manages to take it, that metaphorically outstretched hand. And that’s how he wins. That’s how he becomes Sieger, the victorious one.
Now, at the end of any love story, viewers tend to ask the question: “Are they going to stay together after the end of the film?” And then, they tend to get into arguments because of it – arguments along the lines of, “It would be so romantic if they stayed together,” vs. “They are so young; teenagers that age fall in love half a dozen times in any given year. Of course, they’re going to break up.”
Both arguments are based in a common misunderstanding: The characters we’re seeing in a movie or show aren’t real. This isn’t real life. They can neither stay together, nor break up with each other. They’re just lines on a sheet of paper. So, you cannot tell what will happen to them after the end of the film because they don’t exist.
The only thing you can tell about them is…you can try and work out what the writers’ intentions in that regard were. What did the writers hint at?
And for that, you need to understand the ‘motorcycle’ metaphor on this show. It is perhaps the most important one because it ultimately resolves the main protagonist’s core problem.
It’s not just that Sieger’s and Eddy’s father doesn’t allow Eddy to ride a motorcycle (until the very end of the film when he finally gives in and does), and it’s not just that he actually puts a chain on that motorcycle at one point in the story. We are specifically told that their mother died in a motorcycle accident. Not in some other accident. Not of some illness. No, specifically in a motorcycle accident! Sieger tells Marc (showing us how much he is opening up to this boy he so clearly likes).
I think it’s at this point that we can confidently say that the motorcycle in this film is a metaphor for the grownup world, for growing up.
Dangerous and sometimes absolutely horrifying things happen in the realm of adulthood. It’s a world fraught with dangers and risks. And sometimes those will spill over even into your innocent childhood world and kill what you deeply loved and needed. Engaging with the grownup world is dangerous and risky. That’s the motorcycle and the motorcycle accident of Sieger and Eddy’s mum.
Now, their father is trying to keep this from them, to protect them, shield them from the horrors. But in doing so, he is keeping them from growing up. He doesn’t let them go anywhere near a motorcycle. It’s a ground rule in their household. He isn’t doing this out of malice, of course. The opposite, as a matter of fact, he’s doing it out of love; he is overprotective and scared. The poor widowed, lone father is traumatized after the death of his wife and tries to keep the darkness and the horrors away from his children, but it’s stunting them emotionally. He doesn’t allow them to grow up.
That this is, indeed, what the ‘motorcycle’ stands for becomes very obvious in a few lines of dialogue in a fight the father has with Eddy about the motorcycle: Eddy specifically tells his father that he isn’t a child anymore.
You see, when you don’t let your kids grow up (metaphorically: withhold the metaphorical ‘motorcycle’ from them), they’re going to do their growing up on their own and potentially in contexts that are far more unsafe and dangerous and might even lead them down the wrong path in life.
Eddy does all of his growing up in secret. And that his tuned motorcycles are all about that, about growing up, becomes really clear from the way all these scenes involve girls and booze.
It’s this type of growing up, the one done to rebel against a father who doesn’t allow growing up of any kind, that leads you down dangerous paths, ones where you might lose your job and eventually move on to even more dangerous metaphorical ‘vehicles’ – ‘vehicles’ that will land you in jail. Not being allowed to grow up can potentially lead to straying from the straight and narrow and derailing your life completely.
Sieger joins his brother in these secret ‘growing-up sessions’ for a while, but while he’s there, we always feel that this is wrong. This is wrong for Sieger and his journey in life. This isn’t who Sieger is. Sieger shouldn’t be doing this here, with the girls and the booze and the risk of ending up on the wrong track in life.
Sieger should be with Marc. He should be running and cycling. They should be cycling their way through life together on their bicycles. Which is the moment we realize how much meaning in this film is actually generated through forward movement:
‘Running’ is a metaphor for relationships and love, but it also shows us this way forward in life and in love: a way forward together with Marc (if Sieger manages to pick up the baton and finally ‘get it’, get what this life is all about for him).
And then they do, of course, ride their bicycles a lot in this movie – definitely fitting in a Dutch cultural context, but also a visualization of forward movement, forward towards that beach, for example, both of them on that same bicycle. It’s on that bicycle that they encounter the metaphorical ‘deer’. And they will be on the same vehicle again by the end of the film: on a motorcycle.
Note also that Eddy’s motorcycle shenanigans in the woods never really seem to go anywhere; there is no forward movement. He’s just going in circles. And that one time he actually does go somewhere (in that car), it’s actually a metaphor for him choosing the wrong path and ending up in jail.
But let’s for a moment return to that pivotal scene in the woods where Sieger is trapped in the car with Eddy and the girls…and then Marc suddenly appears in front of them.
It might be difficult to understand at first why this scene is given so much emphasis and why it is the emotionally climactic one in this movie (perhaps of greater importance even than the race itself).
Why is this scene given so much weight? Why is it so significant in the movie?
Because it is the movie!
It is the whole movie, the whole story of Sieger compressed into just one scene.
Sieger has asked Marc to meet him for a midnight swim (giving us another hint at the ‘water’ metaphor, of course) and make up with him.
But Sieger ends up in a car with Eddy.
Eddy has by now moved on to even bigger, more dangerous metaphorical ‘vehicles’ for growing up. (We find out later on that this ride ends in an actual arrest, foreshadowing nothing good for Eddy’s future, even if it’s just for joyriding at this point.) In short, Eddy is en route to derailing his life completely and ending up on the wrong track.
And Sieger is in that same car with him! Together with some girls (showing us, once again, how wrong enforced heterosexuality actually is for Sieger).
This isn’t just a metaphor for that particular moment in the movie; it’s about the movie as a whole: Sieger, this boy who isn’t allowed to grow up, this boy who has lost his mother and is trapped in an all-male-all-macho household, this boy who is anxious and introverted and afraid and forced to be someone who he isn’t, this boy is on the wrong track, and if he follows in his brother’s footsteps, this will derail his life.
And then somebody shows up (not just at that moment, but in the narrative as a whole) and literally stands in his way: Marc!
Marc is there and stops the car from going in the wrong direction. And he stubbornly refuses to move.
This isn’t just about this particular moment in the story; it’s a general metaphorical statement: Sieger has met Marc in his life and meeting him is pivotal and will flip him over to the right track or at least, definitely stop him from progressing further down the wrong one. Marc doesn’t run off and doesn’t hide and just stubbornly stands in his way. That’s the metaphor here.
Marc happens, and Sieger’s life changes. Forever.
Sieger gets out of the car and gets into a fight with Marc, even shoving him and getting shoved back.
Yes, encountering love, meeting Marc in his life, means a hard struggle for Sieger. It’s not all sunshine and roses. It means having to come to terms with something. It means fighting something and trying to work something out. But that’s good. This argument has to happen. And it happens because Marc stood in the way of Sieger moving in the wrong direction.
Sieger then gets back in the car, and that’s probably the best part of the whole movie (as far as the symbolism is concerned, at least), the car keeps moving in the wrong direction for a bit, i.e. Sieger keeps going where he shouldn’t be going: He keeps moving down the wrong track, the one that will derail his life. (We see this in the movie itself, too: He keeps pursuing this fake relationship with Jessica even after he’s met Marc.)
And then, it’s Sieger himself who says, “Stop the car!”
That’s, hands down, the best part of the whole movie: You have to stop the car yourself! If you’re going in the wrong direction, a direction that’s going to derail your life, lead you away from the person you love, from the sexuality you feel in your bones is natural for you, from the life that will make you happy, then you have to stop that car. You!
You have to do it yourself.
Marc standing in the way is an important sign, a very significant signal to Sieger that he is going somewhere where he shouldn’t be going (together with his soon-delinquent brother and those girls that represent that heteronormativity that Sieger is trying to force himself to adhere to). Marc standing in the way is the signal Sieger needs to change his life.
But he has to do it himself!
Marc cannot do that for him. Marc can just show him that an alternative is possible (i.e. stand in the way of the car for a while and stubbornly refuse to move).
But the last step, Sieger has to take himself. He has to get out of that car himself.
If you’re on the wrong track, even the person you love cannot do the work for you: You have to do that yourself. They can help you and signal that they’re there for you and are waiting for you.
Sieger has to get out of the car himself. He has to say, “Stop!” to this whole path in the narrative. He has to abort that alternative timeline for his future.
He has to get out of the car himself.
Which he does.
And then he cries because it’s difficult to change your life like that.
It’s such a beautiful scene and so meaningful. And it’s, of course, no coincidence that it happens before the race, the race that Sieger wins. Afterwards, he just needs one last push to finally be able to grow up: his best friend’s reassurance and acceptance (a display of loyalty and support in a lovely and non-pushy way that anyone who’s struggling to come to terms with who they are can only hope to get ).
Sieger has managed to get out of the car that was heading in the wrong direction. And in a last act of emancipation, he climbs on that metaphorical ‘motorcycle’: He is growing up.
This is a coming-of-age story, and stories of this type typically start with a protagonist who’s not fully ‘there’ yet, still half a child, unsure of where to go (one sock up and one sock down, so to speak), and they have to end with the protagonist growing up.
Which he does when he gets on that motorcycle, the metaphorical ‘motorcycle’ that his father has been keeping from both him and his brother. And he drives that motorcycle, or so we are to understand, straight to Marc.
It’s with Marc that we see him on that motorcycle again (in a clear callback to their earlier bicycle ride towards the beach where they made love for the first time).
These two are doing their growing up together now, these last shots tell us. They are on that motorcycle together. There is absolutely no sign of them breaking up or anything of the kind: These two are moving into the grownup world together, just as the title credits slowly push them out of the frame and they disappear along that road that is, crucially, leading forwards and out of the shot. They are moving into the grownup world together, and they will be grownups together, this last shot tells us. Together on that motorcycle. Sieger and Marc.
~fin~
Thank you for this post. I am going to watch it this weekend and looking forward to reading your analysis.
I have read halfway through this post and felt an incredible amount of nostalgia. I remember watching this movie years ago along with the movie called The Way He Looks. Both about coming of age love story and both so tender and full of hope. The ending scene in Jongens was so perfect, my favourite was when Marc sings 'you are my sunshine'. I might re-watch the movie and then come back to read the rest. So happy that you brought this movie up in this blog.