Directors: Jonathan Sipkema & Jonathan Bergsma
Writers: Jonathan Sipkema & Jonathan Bergsma
Cast: Jonathan Bergsma, Eline Bijman
Running time: 30mins
Clocking in at 30 minutes, écht (which translates as ‘real’) might be the longest music video I’ve ever seen. Following co-writer and director Jonathan Bergsma’s alter ego, ‘Johnny loves me’, the story sees an inability to talk about his feeling steadily distance him from his partner ‘The girl with the orange lipstick’ (Eline Bijman) – in a series of increasingly abstract musical vignettes.
The format is similar to the recently-reviewed family drama Pick You Up at 6: Be Here. Whether it is as successful in its delivery depends on who you ask. On the balance of things, I think it is a risk that pays off. Most of the film is performed in exagerated mime, with Johnny being pulled too-and-fro by his unspoken feelings (literally a group of actors in comedia del arte make-up, playing different emotional archetypes) – and further from his exasperated lover.
The abstract delivery suits a story where the protagonist can’t necessarily pinpoint what is even the problem. And approaching our own mental health, or our ability to communicate it to the outside world, comes with all kinds of weird and absurd baggage, which means we can’t see the wood for the trees. So, this seems appropriate, and interesting, in terms of walking us through that.
It also provides a suitable visual wallpaper for multidisciplinary artist Bergsma’s pounding electronic music, and stinging introspective lyrics. The album’s worth of music works as an examination of his psyche: his cowed and quashed ego, versus a nagging, hectoring super-ego; and a deranged and obscene id which doggedly bury him under piles of self-doubt, or distract him from making progress as he tries to work through his issues. At least in terms of giving a voice to Johnny’s internal monologue, the format works very well.
However, Johnny isn’t the only person in this story. At times in the early chapters of the story, his pointedly unnamed lover seems to have so little agency that there are questions around whether she is really écht. However badly he seems to let her down or leave her hanging – blankly staring ahead as she silently bares her heart to him, or limply dangling his arms either side of her as she wraps him in a tender embrace – she reverts to the archetype of a devoted care-giver.
When Bijman is given dialogue (Bergsma and fellow writer-director Jonathan Sipkema cannily choose to do this in an imagined setting where she is playing the role of an actual therapist) – the film, and her character, immediately become more compelling. Bijman finds a voice to interrogate the irritatingly aloof Johnny with, and to verify that she very much is a real person, with dreams and desires of her own, rather than just his unpaid carer. She has a right to her own happiness as well – and to voice her concerns when those are being so clearly neglected.
The issue here is that écht hopes to resume business as usual, after this scene. But the directors have revealed to us won’t just go back in the box. Bijman is a very good actor, who frankly feels a little wasted having to pantomime her way through other scenes, while Johnny’s barnstorming hip-hop blares over proceedings. At the same time, as good as that music is, its ever-present nature makes it feel like even after we have acknowledged ‘The girl with the orange lipstick’ is a three-dimensional, real person, we’re straight back to only caring about what Johnny, or his internal monologue, has to say.
It’s something which may leave écht a little exposed to more critical audiences. Those who prefer a more conventional delivery of narrative have been reminded that it was possible for the filmmakers to deliver it here, and a small portion of that ‘normality’ offered up, only for it to be wrenched away from them, and never mentioned again. At the same time, thematically, some viewers will have been increasingly aware of the woman being side-lined in this story – and may feel that the male perspective needed further cross-examination from Bijman’s character here. Something emphasises, again, by the film’s all-too-brief shift in format.
There is a lot to like here. A lot of talented people, converging to create something unexpected and imaginative, while interrogating some important social themes. But écht is pushing up against the limitations of experimental cinema to carry an audience with it – especially due to its length. In many places, the running time and format serve to emphasise the things which – for whatever reason – are not there. As great a platform as it provides to convey the brilliance of Bergsma’s work, it does not manage to live up to the potential of some of the other performers involved – and that’s a shame.