There are some films that I wonder just how I missed them. I happened upon Italian director Marco Ferreri’s first English-language film, 1978’s Bye Bye Monkey, featuring Gerard Depardieu and Marcello Mastroianni trying—and failing—to find human connection in a curiously empty New York City. Depardieu works part-time as the one-man crew for a feminist theater group, which wants to do a play on rape, except that none of players has ever been raped, so they don’t know how to “correctly” act it out; but women are just as violent as men in the name of “equality,” right? After Depardieu is “accidently” knocked out with a bottle during their lunch break, the women strip him naked and “rape” him.
Meanwhile, Mastroianni bemoans the fact that he can’t get “laid,” because women today only pretend to prefer proper old-world dating habits, while in reality they think that such men who practice it are boring “nice” guys and a bit of a joke. He ends-up hanging himself in his garden. Can you imagine a film like this being made today in the current political climate?
There are a lot of films that I just happen across by pure happenstance that I never knew existed or just didn’t seem important enough to waste money on. More likely an “obscure” film might interest me merely out of interest in a particular actor (or more usually, actress) who happened to be in a film that I liked for other reasons. While in most cases I don’t watch obscure titles more than once even if I think they were “good,” there are those rare cases when I put a film on a “watch list” that keep then at close hand because it “speaks” to me.
Thus I became interested about what else Dutch actress Lotte Verbeek has done besides having a bit role in the Starz series Outlander. One was the film Suspension of Disbelief, which had a fascinating premise in theory, but while for me it maintained a certain amount of interest as I waited for it to find its way to plausibility, it inevitably never made it to the finish line; still, I didn’t dislike it as much as the vast majority of critics did.
I came across another film that had been released on DVD by the now defunct Olive Films, which had a rather eclectic catalogue. Why it would decide to release a film like 2009’s Nothing Personal by Polish-Dutch director Urszula Antoniak was likely because it just seemed to “fit in” with the type of obscure but “meaningful” films it specialized in that other distributors mostly shunned. This particular film was one that most people likely would find a bit of a drag because of the difficulty in identifying with the motivations of one or both of the two principle characters, but others (like myself) find it deeply “personal,” one that actually speaks to people like me more than it would most people.
The cover art used for the DVD suggests something “erotic,” but in fact its meaning is slightly macabre and reinforces a sense of aloneness. The film begins with a crowd of people picking through personal effects that they are free to take:
Next we see a woman (Verbeek) rather shabbily dressed in an almost completely bare flat, watching from a window…
…and with a vacant look in her face, she takes off her wedding ring:
We then see a lone vehicle on the barren coast of Ireland…
…in which the unnamed woman is hitchhiking a ride…
Her demeanor suggests she doesn’t much care where she is going, as long as it is as far away from the life she had previously known as can be. We then see the title card…
…and nothing else. Is the filmmaker trying to be “cute,” or is there a message here? Back on the road, the woman with her rucksack isn’t having much luck hitching another ride…
…and camps out near the shore:
We then see another title card with the word “Loneliness” as the woman sits alone covering her ears, apparently to keep out the sound of the waves pounding the shore:
She then uncovers her ears, as if listening intently for something, and then covers them again. Back on the trail again…
…roughing it for water…
…and food:
When asked by picnickers if she needs “help,” she says “no” but then rudely asks “Do you?” She inquires if she could get a “lift” to wherever they are going, but is rebuffed because of the “children”:
Back on a country road under gray skies, she is repeatedly passed by cars that ignore her. Where is she going? Apparently wherever the world ends:
When she finally does get a lift, she quickly bails out when the driver appears to give what she interprets are “signals” for his real intentions, and starts howling at him to scare him away:
Then it is camping out on the barren landscape (presumably the Burren)…
…and is a tiny speck walking toward a hill…
...where she encounters an isolated house, where a small boat seems to be departing the island it is situated on:
We see her walking toward the house as another title card appears “The End of a Relationship.” What this means is a mystery. A “relationship” with who? With the owner out of the way, the woman just walks right in…
…checks out the owner’s music collection (he apparently likes classical and early American country music)…
…stretches out for awhile listening to the Patsy Cline song "Crazy"…
…and then wriggling around in his bed…
…before deliberating pulling out a strand of hair to leave on the sheet. After this brief encounter with normalcy, she is back to trying to make it through another cold night…
…and she might be thinking here that this isn’t such a hot idea after all…
…because we then see here back at the house, apparently waiting for someone to notice her:
Of course she isn’t going to make things easy for anyone trying to be friendly with her. In this case it is Martin (Stephen Rea from The Crying Game)...
who asks her what her name is, which she responds to with a four-letter word to mind his own business. Of course it is his house, and thus his “business,” which he demonstrates by kicking over the bench:
Sitting back down on the bench with a look that suggests that she wasn’t expecting someone to react this way to her rude behavior, she still won’t respond to his questions but agrees to work in Martin’s garden for food, which it is clear that it is in his nature to just be “nice” about it:
She doesn’t know the difference between chives and weeds, so Martin has to explain it to her…
…but he admits she is good worker and he can give her a “job” since he has no help since his wife passed away. She tells him she isn’t interested in his “life story” and will agree only to work for food and not have to be “friendly.” Martin tells her it’s time to eat, but she won’t come inside his home (which she already “helped herself” to when he was gone), telling him she isn’t the “polite” type. He tells her to “fuck off” and sits at his table eating alone until he realizes that she really won’t come inside even to be fed, and tosses some food on a plate and takes it to her. He tells her she can at least say “thank you,” but she continues her obstinate refusal to be civil…
At this point we can conjecture that something in the woman’s life caused her to reject all human contact save that which serves her immediate needs (transportation, food). She was married, but we don’t know if her husband died or left her. She gave away everything that reminded her of her previous life, and her manner of dress also seems to be deliberately designed to repel any interest in her. What is her immediate plan? Just to go off and find some solitude until she is ready to re-enter the world of the living?
Martin also lives a solitary existence. Since his wife passed away, he doesn’t seem to seek out human contact either. His reasons for seeking solitude may have something to do with a secret that we will learn about later on so that we can understand why he prefers this life. But unlike the woman, he doesn’t totally reject human contact, and has little patience or understanding for people who have no feelings to give even when offered small kindnesses.
The woman packs up some leftovers from her meal and leaves. Martin follows her, asking her where she is going and observing that “staying is as good as leaving”…
…to which she retorts “How would you know? You can’t leave.” Besides, he is “old.” Martin persists; the woman clearly has nowhere to go, and he offers to let her stay on to work for him. She agrees so long as he doesn’t talk about himself or asks questions—basically they will mind each other’s own businesses:
She still won’t give him her name, but allows him to call her “You,” as in “hey you,” which is what Martin immediately addresses her as. Breakfast is at 7, as You walks off the trail to camp out. Martin isn’t sure she is going to come back, buts sets a place for her at the table. You is then seen sitting at the bench waiting to be served. He tells her to come in because it is going to rain, but she remains obstinate before deciding it is better to get out of it. At the table Martin tries get her to say something polite…
…but even when she turns on his radio to listen to music and he asks her if she likes opera she becomes angry and starts to leave merely because he asked her a question. The “deal” is off, but Martin suggests that instead of her leaving, he will sing a song every time he breaks their deal. For the first time we see a smile on You’s face, as if she finds this absurd. Martin (who sings terribly) performs the old Porter Wagoner song “The Rubber Room” about a man in an insane asylum:
His selection of this song to sing seems to appeal to You’s own “issues,” and she stops him and says “Come on, let’s work”:
Martin shows You how to break up the bog soil for planting and then leaves on his boat. He leaves behind her lunch and a list of chores to do:
While working in the house she notices that there are a couple of locked rooms:
Martin returns that evening; he likely was hoping that by allowing You to get used to house that she might stay on; he finds her listening to his music collection, and asks her into the kitchen to suggest that she might do some cooking too:
We get that sense that You is starting to feel a reason to go on living. The next morning You finds a Walkman music player along with her work list: Martin returns from a boat trip to find You listening to the music and cooking up a “surprise”:
You has cooked a potato parfait for him. Her description of it suggests that she is quite adept at the “art” of cooking:
She tell him “good appétit” in Dutch, and he responds “thank you” in Gaelic. Later he takes her out in a fishing expedition, showing her how to catch lobsters:
There is a reason why Martin seems to be “grooming” her, although it has nothing to do with a desire for her to be his lover. He finds her campsite and awakens her, telling You that she can’t stay out here anymore because he says so:
While You is provided a room in the house, Martin starts burning some items outside; You sifts through the ashes in the morning wondering what it was he was burning:
It’s back to work, this time collecting seaweed for the garden:
Waiting on the bench after dinner, You is nodding her head in rhythm to the music:
Next we see another title card: “Marriage.” You hears a knock on her bedroom door to find breakfast in front of the door. We notice that she thinks nothing of showing herself in her undies now, perhaps because she thinks that she and Martin have a future:
She goes about doing work around the house, but she hears a noise and finds Martin having fallen down a staircase and breathing heavily…
…that evening Martin pays a visit to her room and makes an odd request: he wants her to look after him after he goes to bed, because he is afraid he might die in his sleep:
Her expression suggests that he is making up an excuse for her to sleep with him, but although nothing happens, her demeanor and conversation suggest that she is starting to define this relationship in more definite terms:
You now tells Martin that the “deal” is no longer in effect, but we get the sense that it is now Martin who still has some use for it to avoid pursuing a romantic relationship. The next day it is back to work. After the day is over, You lies in bed thinking, probably about their future together since she knows she is being allowed to stay as long as she wishes:
You returns a book; Martin realizes that she is lingering because she wants to send a message to him. His own expression suggests not happiness, but a sense of regret for something he knows he cannot give her:
Still, he offers to take her “out” and she seems pleased that he asked her:
At the local pub, we see You dancing to the music played by the house band; it is clear that she is enjoying reintegrating into society:
She and Martin dance together, but we can tell that he is not feeling well. On the way back home, an obviously intoxicated You shows a playful side, insisting that he wait because she has to “pee.” Now it is You who is “talking too much”:
She has something for him: she starts blowing, pretending to be the wind blowing the grass. Thank you, Martin says, now make it stop. It’s beyond her power she says, and Martin tells her it’s OK—“It’s not for us to struggle after tiresome perfection”:
The next morning You sees that her breakfast is not in front of the door as usual:
She finds him still in bed; he is apparently not up to moving about, and tells her she can do whatever she wants to do that day:
We see her reading Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man, with the underlined words “Nothing really disappears. Everything continues in the world of man”:
During this meal it is clear that positions have changed. Now it is You who openly seeks human attachment, and it is Martin who is reluctant. She has broken their “deal” asking “personal” questions such as what his favorite color is, and she must be “punished”…
…and sings a ballad in Dutch:
He interrupts her by asking her what sign of the Zodiac she is, and breaks into song himself (“The Rubber Room” again) before leaving the room complaining she is too “educated” to understand country music. But he returns with another bottle of wine, and this time she starts singing “Crazy.” What was the question? What’s your favorite number? Mine is zero.” Martin wants to know who she is, but she just looks at him:
Later he goes through her clothes looking for a clue, and finds a travel pass that indicates her name is Anne, and she had been living in Amsterdam:
We see another title card: “The Beginning of a Relationship,” which seems a bit odd coming after "marriage." While Martin has gone to Amsterdam, You is doing some investigating herself, finding one of the locked rooms open:
Martin must have had some kind of prior existence himself, by the looks of what is probably his private “den,” with a piano and a laptop computer. She also finds a medal in a coat pocket:
Meanwhile, Martin finds her old apartment, and discovers a woman’s hairpin on the floor:
While he’s been gone, You plays the piano, and then gets into his bed waiting for Martin to return. She is awoken...
…by the sound of someone walking up the stairs. Martin has bought some new boots for her to go out on a hunting trip with him, which she says are too big; she needs to put on two pairs of socks then, like he suggested:
This isn’t a normal hunting trip, it seems:
But he won’t shoot her, she says. He is just scared of a new relationship, and she isn’t: He fires a shot away from her, but she doesn’t run away. On the way back with a rabbit for dinner…
…You surprises him by calling him by his name for the first time, and asks him if he has taken his medicine. Now it is Martin who is upset that she has been “snooping” into his history. Now it is Martin who doesn’t want to go into his own house, sitting on the bench like You did when they first met:
She joins him, and he gives her the hairpin he found:
Martin assures her that “no one will find you here.” Apparently he has crossed a line here, and You prepares to leave, but she really doesn’t want to:
She gives him back the medal she found, saying she doesn’t want it. Well then what does she want?:
She wants to be like him, living in this house on a lonely island, nobody looks at you, nobody knocks…
…and taking off her clothes, she goes into bed with Martin, but he won’t consummate the relationship, because he jokingly asserts that “talent knows when to stop”:
The next morning Martin is gone; it is raining and You remembers the clothes were left hanging outside:
The next title card says simply “Alone.” Martin has disappeared a whole day and night, and You sits on the hill overlooking the island, contemplating if she will return…
…but she sees Martin arriving and apparently came running down the hill since he observes that she seems to be out-of-breath. He has bought food from a market, just in case she wants to cook for him again, which seems to put her back in a cheerful mood:
After working in the garden, they sit next to each other on the bench, with You moving a finger to touch his…
…and he responds by putting his own hand to cover hers; this is certainly a long way from when they first met, but this is as close to intimacy as they will get:
The next morning Martin is not about, and You heads to the garden before stopping to think that she should check on him. He doesn’t answer her knocks on his door…
…and entering the room, she finds him lifeless in bed:
He also left a letter, apologizing for leaving her like this, and giving everything he has to her, ending with “I love you.”
She removes her clothing, and we now see the image used on the DVD cover actually suggests this is the closest they will ever come to making love:
You wraps-up Martin’s body in the sheet...
…and we see her apparently naked looking out over the water; what she has done with his body we can only conjecture, although the fact that her hair is wet gives us a clue:
You doesn’t stay in the house. She goes
to town and rents a room. She brings nothing with her except the clothes on her
back and a credit card which she uses to pay for the room. As the last title
card states, she is “alone” again. We can conjecture what the future lies for
her—ending her own life not being an “option” we can dismiss at this point,
although her serene expression suggests that wherever she is going she is at
peace with herself. Perhaps using the credit card means at least she is
allowing the world to know she exists and has a name, but her expression as she lies on a bed is difficult to read; she seems at "peace" with whatever it is:
Unfortunately there is no director’s audio commentary on the DVD, so we don’t really know what the director’s intends the ending to mean, or she is deliberately leaving it ambiguous.
One thing that seems obvious is that Martin kept his “deal” with “You” to the very end. Even though he knew her actual name, he still addressed his letter to “You.” He may simply wanted to be “friendly” in the beginning and keep the relationship at that; she appeared to need help, he was willing to give it, and You apparently believed his isolated home on an island suited her. When Martin decided to visit her prior home to find out something about her, he interpreted the completely stripped rooms he saw as reinforcing maintaining the “deal.”
The cracks were there, of course, as when they went to the pub and You appeared to be the life of the party, although this was probably more an expression of what she believed was the state of her relationship with Martin. This was a dramatic change from the start of the film as she was someone who had clearly experienced something so painful (we never find out what that was) that she just wanted to get as far away from civilization and human contact as possible, and the barren plains of Ireland was as good a place as any to find this.
But as the film progresses we realize
for You it is a matter of regaining trust in another human being, and thus
finding some “meaning” to keep on living, which Martin had provided her by
giving her work to do and eventually have the run of his house. On the other
hand, we start to realize that Martin may be a “loner” by nature, or at least
was more suited to it; he had everything he needed, was self-sufficient. No
friends visited him, and we can surmise that this was his own chosen way of
life long ago. He accepted You’s presence because she didn’t ask that he give
much of himself in the beginning, and was willing to accept her desire for
something more at the end because he didn’t have much time left for it to
matter. But is it possible that he stopped taking his medication deliberately? If so, why?
For her part, You apparently held out some hope that she found a new companion in Martin, since she was concerned enough of about his well-being to inquire about his taking his medication, and she certainly went about the daily routine of domesticity as if she found a home she could claim part-ownership of. On the other hand, it was Martin who seemed to feel threatened by the idea of domesticity rather than just an employer/employee relationship. He clearly found You’s living in a tent almost child-like in its obstinancy and reflected badly on himself. His willingness to play by her initial rules also suggests it wasn’t really difficult for him psychologically to accept.
As for You, she saw there was no guile in Martin, no “ulterior” motives. That he sang the song demonstrated he could be taken at his word. Regaining “trust” in people was certainly an important aspect of the film, but particularly for You who also rewarded the trust in her to do her work. From trust came affection, although more so on her part; she was willing to have a sexual relationship with Martin, but he demurred, his statement rebuffing this apparently intimating that any activity that might affect his heart might be fatal (again, that is a conjecture since his health issues are not discussed).
In the end, the small gesture of You’s finger caressing Martin’s hand, and his hand taking hers would be the culmination of the direction their life together had become. But we are left with the knowledge of an abrupt end, and the question was whether You could use this experience to re-enter the outside world, or what could have been die with Martin. All that we are left with was the titled card “Alone” and You seemingly choosing not to continue to live in that house “like Martin” without him.
