Review of Turkish Delight (1973) by Brian E — 16 May 2010

If love is a drug, then Paul Verhoeven's 1973 'Turkish Delight' is grandly an overdose. It's a compassionate bravura which destroyed me upon viewing, with little resemblance to Verhoeven's American box office successes ('Robocop', 'Basic Instinct', 'Total Recall'.

.. just to name a few). The film starts begins in a self-destructive platform, like a violent blast continued from the gun of Bertolucci's 'Last Tango in Paris' - a young, miserable, and naked Rutger Hauer in the body of a starving artist Eric Vonk, laying alone in an isolated, disintegrating studio apartment accompanied by a pig-sty and moldy, neglected foods.

After a shockingly violent dream of brutally murdering the girl he loved, he recalls what brought him to this state; he recalls Olga - the young, wildly beautiful, wildly sexual and curious girl he fell in love with by chance - the one girl to satisfy his continuing lustful free-spirit.

Hurtling the obstacles of real life - struggling to find money, struggling to keep Olga's hypochondriac thoughts away (she constantly thinks she's an heiress to cancer, as cancer played a role in claiming her father's life, as well as her mother's left breast), and Olga's parents who frankly despise Eric - they constantly resort to moments of wild, untamed sex, another ode to 'Last Tango in Paris'.

Reality sets in with a heavy hand and a heavy price, as Olga begins to see past the sex, wanting something more material and more tangible in her love life, spiraling Eric downward fast, only to discover they really just needed the time to breathe.

The film soon ends in tragedy, perhaps as one giant test to Eric, forcing him to shape up and mature further, rather than keep at his carefree, unrestrained behavior. 'Turkish Delight' is actually one of the most depressing, nihilistic depictions of romance ever filmed - I know so as my heart sank into my stomach when the ride was said and done.

The continuity of timeless, space-less pillow talk played as a more explicit relative of Jean-Luc Godard's 'Breathless', but with less pop-culture worship. The odd sexual behavior, though considerably awkward and daringly personal, was more organic and realistic than most bedroom depictions - and carries the same beatnik torch passed by almost-forgotten European film poets as Andrzej Zulawski and Marco Ferreri concerning aimlessly daring love pursuit of violent, destructive youth, and a rude, yet justified rejection of the Bourgeois (though this film is far superior to anything I've seen from Zulawski or Ferreri).

The performances from Rutger Hauer and Monique Van de Ven are just as daring as the film's subject matter - full of life and expression, and a rapid-fire sudden change of emotions. A love story can hold such devastating power - to where you may either find yourself multiplying your love for someone times ten, or disintegrate dangerously further in isolation and hatred for the potential opportunity of love.

'Turkish Delight' is the absolute bearer of this power.