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Rotterdam Europoort
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| 00:00:02 |
Directed by |
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Commentary: |
| 00:00:10 |
Photography: |
| 00:00:14 |
Sound: |
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Film editing: |
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A man is looking for |
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...his way back towards the shore... |
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...from which he ventured |
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Do not ask how it is possible... |
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...miracles do not occur, but... |
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...the miracle of radar detects him. |
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For a moment yards creak. |
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For a moment sails flutter-gone. |
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City on the river Maas, |
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Where Europe ends... |
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...where Europe begins. |
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Oil and grain... |
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...and people... |
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...and oil... |
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...and people. |
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Life is good here, or bad, |
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I'm partial, by the way, fond of revues. |
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Things people go through. |
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For example, yesterday at Katendrecht... |
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...I saw a very peculiar old-fashioned sailor. |
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As though he were already dead. |
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Old age is a disease... |
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...from which only the neighbor suffers. |
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Youth kills time. |
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The world is lying at her feet. |
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City on the river Maas, |
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Where Europe ends. |
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Where Europe begins. |
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Office, dinner table, |
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For a family that together |
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Well-oiled machine... |
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...hand skilled in thinking. |
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My floor is your rooftop. |
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At 9: 15 p. m., all the rooms burst |
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Your floor is my sky. |
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Every person lives in his own skin... |
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...and a kiss replaces words... |
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...and love exists. |
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Sometimes, briefly, life is clothed in white. |
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There is sun, there is rain... |
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...there is a lot of night. |
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All the people live in the same world. |
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Every person has his own home. |
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800,000 people. |
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800,000 faces. |
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No two hands are alike. |
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No port like this one. |
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I'm young and in love. |
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I'm old and must die. |
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Things people go through. |
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Yesterday in Delftshaven... |
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...I saw a very peculiar old fashioned sailor... |
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...who looked as though he were already dead. |
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What does a man think about |
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Another man's money? |
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Freedom? Of nothing at all? Of himself? |
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Of his son? A Sunday morning? |
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Of his working hand... |
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...that does, and by doing, changes? |
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No matter how far the ships travel... |
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...the world stays the same. |
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Even if the mirrors that mirror the world break. |
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Heroes, pirates, tall doers of tall deeds... |
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...turned in stone, but ended except the one. |
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Come on, I'll kill you, |
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No, no, that's not possible. |
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Yes, out you go. You cheat! |
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The past is beautiful but the present is alive. |
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Bliss is a word, |
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This city I saw burning. |
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This city I saw building. |
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A past weighs on, |
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One city, but how many faces? |
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Bronze and lofty, the face of wisdom. |
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Sweaty, the face of toil. |
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Painted, the face of goodness |
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Masked the face of the opera hero... |
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...who between décor enchants daylight... |
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...warming his coldness in a fire of approval. |
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Realities that push one another aside. |
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Regard, strike and reveal one another. |
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Sir, what are you doing here? |
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Through the hall, across the stage and, |
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Don't you know that it is forbidden |
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Forbidden, forbidden? |
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He is your singing double. And I, I am Senta. |
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I'm supposed to be in love with you. |
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Sit down, Captain. |
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Thank you. How do I get out of here? |
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I'll escort you. |
| 00:15:14 |
This is also a reality, but invalid. |
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No longer exchangeable with a handshake. |
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Who moves in here, |
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Who moves from here, |
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The opera ends. |
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Nature breathes once more. |
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Night is square and awake. |
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Last night, on the Lijnbaan... |
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...I saw a very peculiar old-fashioned sailor, |
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...as if being looked for. |
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It is today, I'm tired. |
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The city flows right through me. |
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It is today, and I'm alive. |
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The city is a great peaceful number... |
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...of people, of cubic meters, |
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Of ships, tons and profits of cars, |
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...in one hour hundreds of deaths. |
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The city is a great peaceful number. |
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This city I saw burning. |
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This city I saw building. |
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Bliss is a word, |
| 00:19:57 |
Say Weena, say Spangen. |
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Say Kralingen, Crooswijk. |
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Say Feyenoord, Dijkzicht. |
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Say Oud Mathenesse. |
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Say hundreds of names. |
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Say city on the river Maas. |
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Say port of Europe. |
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END |
