This article is based on this Dutch article of Martinus Benders: https://martijnbenders.substack.com/p/de-heilige-drie-eenheid-van-martijn
The Holy Trinity of Martijn van de Griendt
Yesterday, I went to see a film by Martijn van de Griendt. What struck me the most was how much Van de Griendt is, at heart, a great portrait photographer. In essence, the entire film is a kind of portrait photograph of a generation. And what was I thinking as I watched? What incredible acting talents Robbie Oladepo and Alex Sophie are! Something Martijn van de Griendt instinctively picked up on. I really hope the film industry takes note.
The film sparked all sorts of thoughts in me. The provocateur in me wanted to shout: where is the sex and the drugs! The sentimental old man in me thought: oh, these young people have it so much better with each other than I did in my youth. Of course, the script of teenage self-destruction still exists. Suddenly, an image of myself at a party in Amsterdam came to mind, on that squatted quay—I think. It was sometime around my nineteenth or twentieth year. Late at night, I was sitting in a converted school bus that had been turned into a bar, and next to me sat a girl whose forearms were covered with hundreds of cuts. Back then, that was a kind of identity that fit perfectly within the atmosphere.
Now, I would think: my god, wear long sleeves, why are you proudly pushing those arms into my face? But at the time, it simply made me curious, albeit a dull kind of curiosity, since I never exchanged a word with her.
Martijn van de Griendt made sure to get permission from all the parents before making the film. Ultimately, it became a portrait of a beautiful friendship. My primary thought about that? That I was jealous of this generation, because they do have 3-MMC within reach—something that, by the way, is never mentioned in the film.
—
Only You Were Missing, Moonlight
Our wrists are stained by the new German handcuffs,
the bus heater broke down after Kaman.
It’s already eight o’clock, and we haven’t even had a soda,
a lieutenant, proud as a peacock, watches over us.
We are on our way to the Adana prison via Niğde.
Only you were missing, moonlight,
to pin a silver feather upon the landscape!
—
A poem that pairs well with a sharp story, although here, the cuts are inflicted by the (German) system. I wrote a commentary on it in the book De Eeuwige Ontgroening, which can be found in Dutch here and in English here. As you can see, there’s more interest in the book in English than in Dutch—which doesn’t surprise me. The Netherlands has no real culture of intellectualism to speak of.
In Di cosa sogna il piranha nel fosso di limonata, I reflect at one point that I can’t think of a single Dutch writer with whom I’d want to start a correspondence—except for Bart van der Pligt. And he (perhaps for that reason?) never wrote books. But now I think: Johan Herrenberg. Maybe one day, I’ll begin a correspondence with Johan Herrenberg.
But then I’ll put on a long-sleeved polo and never speak of the Dutch literary world again.
Best regards,
Martinus Benders