Rick, 42, is a man in turmoil. He believes himself to be a danger to others (we often hear him explode with, “I might kill somebody if I live longer”), viewing himself as something akin to the devil. Yet, those around him respond calmly, compassionately signalling that Rick’s outbursts shouldn’t be taken at face value. Rick has spent his adult years grappling with psychiatric instability, a painful existence shaped by a series of diagnoses that attempt to categorize his troubled mind and erratic behavior, but offer no relief from his suffering.
Rick (portrayed by Sanne den Hartogh) has endured this life of anguish alongside his supportive parents, Aagje and Toon. They are idols of patience and acceptance, with a quietly remarkable tenderness in the way they regard their son, who might, at any moment, begin cursing himself or the life they’ve provided him. Aagje (magnetically played by Renée Soutendijk) and Toon (the resourceful Raymond Thiry) embody the heart of parenthood: love, pure and unconditional, without needing to understand in order to support. Their love is evident in their willingness to honour Rick’s choices, letting go of their fears and heartbreak about his decision to end his life.
Rick has requested euthanasia. Laura Hermanides’s film tracks his journey from the start of the assessment process to the final moments of his life. Set in the working-class district of Osdorp near Amsterdam’s Sloterplas, the film could easily slip into heavy-handed melodrama—but it doesn’t. Instead, Hermanides employs a dynamic, progressive visual style (with some standout shots reminiscent of Yorgos Lanthimos’s striking compositions) that keeps the audience from sinking into despair. Rather, the film invites us to explore the complexities of euthanasia through the richly written characters, masterfully brought to life by the lead actors.
A significant part of the film’s strength comes from the real-life couple, Agnes and Jan, whose experience with their son René’s (nicknamed “White Flash“) euthanasia inspired the story. In many ways, ‘White Flash’ is quintessentially Dutch. From the damp, muted landscapes to the candid, direct dialogues, from the restrained emotional expressions to the dry humour, the film embodies a deeply Dutch sensibility. Most notably, it touches on a subject at the heart of Dutch liberalism: euthanasia, legal here since 2001. In fact, only a handful of countries have followed suit in legalizing assisted dying (e.g., Switzerland, Belgium, and Canada). The film delicately portrays euthanasia not as a shocking or tragic end but as a dignified, almost celebratory conclusion to life, grounded in personal agency and shared with loved ones.
Of course, this process is far from simple, and Hermanides doesn’t shy away from its emotional weight. One of the film’s most powerful visual metaphors features a solitary swan, accompanied by music that recalls the myth of the ‘swan song’—the idea that swans, largely silent throughout their lives, sing beautifully just before they die. I’ve been mostly heated by the intimate portrayal of Aagje and Toon’s mature relationship. Alone together, their moments of unrestrained countenance and solace offer some of the film’s most heartwarming moments. Their bond feels fresh and genuine on screen, thanks in no small part to the natural chemistry between Soutendijk and Thiry, which will leave you longing for love as enduring and tender as theirs.
While euthanasia is a legal option in the Netherlands, it remains illegal in places like the UK, where assisted suicide is punishable by up to 14 years in prison. ‘White Flash’, which opened this year’s Nederlands Film Festival, is now playing in Dutch theatres, offering a nuanced and humane perspective on the right to die that Europe, and perhaps the world, should take note of.
★★★★1/2
In Dutch theatres/ Director: Laura Hermanides/ Starring: Renée Soutendijk, Raymond Thiry, Sanne den Hartogh / Family Affair Films / Gusto entertainment
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