People who claim that there is no such thing as perfection should check out the leader of Ivo on Sunday to look. The show, for the first time on television last Sunday, opened with the image of Ivo Niehe breaking an egg in the sun over a bowl, accompanied by a cheerful violet. Then Ivo Niehe who gives his golden retriever a tasty snack. Followed by Ivo Niehe on a bicycle with panniers, closely followed by the aforementioned golden retriever. This opening transitioned seamlessly into a total shot of the decor, which has a reassuring VTWonen-from-2006 atmosphere. Gray floor, white walls, white sofa, some shiny steel here and there and a cool chessboard with pieces in the shape of well-known buildings.
Look, there’s Ivo coming down the stairs. Smooth walk, white sneakers, black waistcoat. He walks to the espresso machine, lets the coffee run, then hops over to the chessboard to move a piece. A close-up of the gushing coffee in the cup, a shot of the roaring fire with some magazines next to it. Modern Architecture. Style. fashion† The music stops and Ivo turns the knob of an old radio. He is going to sit. Not on the couch, but on a gray and white ottoman. ‘It is our assignment’, is how he expresses the mission statement of Ivo on Sunday, ‘to change your mind with you between two very informative programs. In addition, Sunday, in the midst of all the days of the week, always remains something special.’
Why hasn’t anyone come up with this before? Ivo Niehe and Sunday mornings are made for each other. The unctuous, meandering, almost baroque way in which Niehe makes television is perfect for that one morning of the week when we want to leave the cruel news outside and let nothing go wrong for a while. Come join us, the coffee is simmering, let’s sit on the porch, do you mind if I speak French? Nacho chips and guacamole; midlife and road bikes; Mark Rutte and feasibility; Ivo Niehe and the Sunday morning.
The first item was about what Philip Freriks’ Sunday looks like in his Paris. (How could it be otherwise; if Ivo Niehe had not been Ivo Niehe, he would have been Philip Freriks.) It was a delightful, rippling report of a few minutes, with the oppressive climax when Freriks stumbles upon a toilet bowl in the middle of the street that is filled with empty wine bottles.
Of course there was more going on in Ivo on Sunday, much more than I can and perhaps should write here – the best thing is still to take a look for yourself. But one observation from the grandmaster himself – with which he made an item about the film Human introduced by Yann Arthus-Bertrand – I don’t want to withhold from you: ‘In a period like the one we are living now, you especially realize how insane it is that there are still world leaders who find it necessary to play mass murderers, instead of all to enjoy the beauty.’ Amen.