“You can’t get any closer,” writes film journalist Harry Hosman in the introduction Frans Weisz, diary of a filmmaker. Perhaps we even get a little too far into Weisz’s head in the diaries he kept for almost all of his films: they were mainly a way for him to write down production issues after a long day on set. Nevertheless, Hosman received permission from Weisz (1938) to decipher and unlock them.
Despite his comment “filming in the Netherlands is worse than playing the Lotto”, Weisz is a very productive filmmaker: “not filming is not living for me”. In more than half a century he made public films, book adaptations, stage adaptations, ‘author’s films’, documentaries, television series (including On closer inspection, to Voskuil) and about 200 commercials. The reviews are as varied as his oeuvre.
Frans Weisz’s life is dominated by the Second World War. His father Géza L. Weisz, an actor who fled from Berlin, was murdered in Auschwitz, and the young Frans went into hiding for a while. These war experiences are reflected in the work written by Judith Herzberg in particular Charlotte (1980) and her stage trilogy adapted for film by Weisz Schadenfreude, Qui Vive and Happy ending.
Father’s footsteps
Weisz wanted to become an actor, following in his father’s footsteps, and in 1957 he studied for a year at drama school. Because he didn’t think he was good enough – doubt plagued him all his life – he went to the newly established Dutch Film Academy and later to the Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia in Rome. His oeuvre always contained a Fellini-like fascination with the stage world.
His feature film debut The gangster girl (1966, based on a screenplay by Remco Campert) was strongly influenced by the nouvelle vague and Fellini. When the film was not the success he hoped for, he changed his course: “I am much less of an author than I used to think I should be.” He will make public films as Red Sien and The intruder with Rijk de Gooyer, an actor with whom he worked a lot.
Like the Heere Heeresma film adaptation in the mid-1970s Have pity, Jet! flops, he changes course again. From now on, Weisz makes personal films, of which Charlotte (1980), about the Jewish artist Charlotte Salomon, who was killed in Auschwitz, is the first. Bee Schadenfreudebased on Judith Herzberg’s play about the aftermath of the Holocaust in the lives of Jewish families, Weisz writes: “Charlotte was about my father, Schadenfreude about my mother.”
Self-criticism
His diaries give the impression that these twists are related to a feeling of inferiority (“I will never become Fellini”), and self-criticism that sometimes borders on self-loathing: “again I failed to make a raw film.” You always see the same pattern: cautious hope to create a masterpiece, then doubt, fear that it will not work out, panic, depression, self-pity and thoughts of suicide. You sometimes wonder why Weisz made films at all: he doesn’t seem to enjoy it at all. Although this also illustrates his eleventh commandment, “people will not want to make a film in the Netherlands.” Because there is always not enough money and time to make something memorable.
The many hundreds of pages of the diary are mainly fodder for film historians. A selection might have been better, because Weisz’s reflections eventually become quite uniform. That would have left room for more interpretation and analysis of his work.
Another disadvantage is that in his diaries – not written for publication – Weisz grumbles a lot about the cast, crew and producers, including Matthijs van Heijningen, Johanna ter Steege and Gijs Scholten van Asschat, without much response. That’s a shame, because a quote hidden in the notes from cameraman Robby Müller, with whom Weisz had difficulty working, is telling. Müller about Weisz: “He does not complete sentences and therefore explains his ideas rather poorly.” Herzberg, with whom Weisz fell out, is also critical: “French is smart, but not profound.” In short: there is still room for a traditional, more balanced biography of Frans Weisz.