El Libro Negro

My mind is still reeling from the last two-and-a-half hours of Zwartboek (The Black Book).

Talk about a moral mind-fuck.

The movie was beautifully done, outside some obvious sound-stage work and the cinematography was gorgeous. It’s amazing how a little color, or lack thereof, can set the stage for an emotional roller-coaster ride . Tangent: I love seeing mid-century cars puttering around in pristine condition. It titillates that little wannabe grease monkey who’s caged deep down in my soul, and triggers flashbacks of Herr Kunze‘s shop class in middle school.

Set in World War II Holland, the film follows the story of a Jewish woman who joins the Dutch underground and up going the extra mile for the cause, and then some. Oh, what’s that you say?  You fell in love with the Gestapo captain you were supposed to seduce? Good times lay ahead.

Anyhow, beyond the eye candy, the movie explores the miasma of human morality during wartime.  Unlike in Band of Brothers, or Saving Private Ryan (two of my favorite war movies, though I have yet to see Tae Guk Gi which I hear is pretty good, too), there’s no clear-cut bad guy vs good guy theme.  Black Book reminded me, slightly, of Malena, though with a lot less sunshine, happiness, and uh, Italians.

In a feeble attempt to universalize this post and make it seem worthwhile, I’ll close with the following.

I look forward to all the morally ambiguous situations we’ll face in the upcoming year, and hope to learn, through interaction with my classmates, that there is a distinction between black and white which transcends race, creed, color, orientation, number of appendages and dietary preferences.  With so many lawyers in the J08 intake though, I’m not holding my breath.