De Hoofdpiet, who had just arrived at the Pieten press conference by bicycle, had drawn his conclusions. He resigned: “If the whole system fails, we must take responsibility for it together.” For example, the youngest generation was nicely explained an administrative principle that the real existing national government, obsessed with the game and the gingerbread cookies, seems to have lost sight of.
Incidentally, package night was saved. Baby Piet had climbed the chimney onto the roof and had found the missing fungus Ozosnel there. The long-lost key to the cargo boat’s hold was also promptly recovered, after some confusion over what was chocolate and what wasn’t – a nod to the now legendary public broadcaster flop Showcolade.
In the lovely parallel universe of the Sinterklaasjournaal (NTR) everything eventually turns out on its own, just as we prefer to imagine the world of our children: confusing at times, but on the way to a happy ending. The fact that the key to the hold is not always found in the real children’s world is the subject of Men’s Rights, the at times sublime series of short documentaries that the EO broadcasts on Sunday evenings.
The short films are about how children try to make chocolate from a curious constellation in which they find themselves. This year, this is especially the case with one of the most common major incongruities in a child’s life: parents who say they no longer want to live in the same house. Sometimes it is brutal. A girl on the broadcast from two weeks ago described how, after a trip to England, her parents at Schiphol became “a little angry” at each other. An understatement, her next sentence showed: “My father took an Uber and my mother pulled me along.” The fracture turned out to be unglued.
How do you bring some order to the superhuman chaos that surrounds you? In a almost perfect episode of Men’s Rights documentary maker Nina de Vriendt portrayed nine-year-old Levin on Sunday, who was somewhat confused by her parents. They are divorced, but every year the family goes on holiday together to the Czech Republic. “Are they completely separated? Or are they half divorced?” The parents of Levin’s girlfriend Hannelore are also divorced, but they just go on holiday separately, according to an existential conversation that the girls have when they play with soap. This also addresses the question of whether you can be married if there has not been a wedding.
Levin knows a lot about wolves
Levin knows a lot about wolves and can imitate them well. Sometimes she has the idea that she can talk to wolves and she would like to have a young wolf herself. We see her deal some heavy blows to her brother. “It used to be a big fight, because I used to bite a lot.”
Gradually, the parents come into the picture. “The one with the long hair is my father.” Meek people, who can squabble as in the best marriages: “Don’t stir the rice, it’s long-cooked rice.” There is also a difference of opinion about mushrooms and one about a mixer. In a conversation with Levin about the divorce, her mother brings up something else: “At one point, Daddy had another girlfriend. You don’t do that when you’re half divorced.” He, immediately: “Once.”
It’s not the things that really interest Levin. She wants to organize and continues to deliberate about whole, half and three quarters separated. When she talks to her parents about being half-divorced, her brother breaks in: “We call it flamosatism. That’s when you’re half divorced.” A perfect solution in a beautiful miniature.
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