Jan 23, 2016
Long before the socio-cultural plague of political correctness and the active promotion of the genetically apocalyptic nightmare known as miscegenation, the ‘tragic half-breed’ used to be a somewhat common figure of cinema for obvious reasons as indicated by an eclectic assortment of cinematic works ranging from Alfred Hitchcock’s Murder! (1930) to both John M. Stahl’s 1934 version and Douglas Sirk’s 1959 version of Imitation of Life to voodoo oriented B-movie horror trash like George Terwilliger's Ouanga (1936) aka Love Wanga to Raoul Walsh’s Antebellum South mulatto melodrama Band of Angels (1957) to Rainer Werner Fassbinder's grotesquely bizarre Euro-western Whity (1971). After all, one does not need to see the scientific data to realize that the mongrel—an innately raceless and cultureless individual that can never truly belong to either of the races that they have descended from—oftentimes suffers from a socially, psychologically, and genetically schizophrenic existence where nothing seems quite right. When I recently learned about a new hip Dutch flick about a half-white/half-Arab teenage, I was naturally intrigued, even if I suspected it would feature phony multicultural-friendly sentiments about the singular intrinsic nobility of the ungodly human mutt. Indeed, Prins (2015) aka Prince directed by seemingly drug-addled first-time feature film director Sam de Jong (Magnesium, Marc Jacobs) was co-produced by the hipster leftist cultural parasites at Vice and a Dutch production company that is curiously named 100% Halal, yet somehow it does have some positive cinematic attributes, even if it is does feature a truly vomit-worthy pro-miscegenation ‘happy ending’ that more or less destroys the entire film and makes me assume that the filmmaker is a completely compromised whore who would never dare to make any truly subversive (socio)political statement with one of his films. Directed by a filmmaker who describes his own work as being, “heavily influenced by present-day youth culture and studies the implications of growing up in the 21st century: in the face of our rapidly changing multi-ethnic society where pop culture is the new predominant religion,” the film is clearly the production of a terribly deracinated and Hollywoodized Dutchman who, as a result of probably watching garbage ranging from TV shows like The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air to Hollywood garbage like Save the Last Dance (2001) while growing up in the Netherlands (notably, de Jong was only 28-years-old when he directed the film), believes the great corporate globalist and cultural Marxist lie that all races of people are exactly the same. Set in a government-subsided Amsterdam ghetto where the rotten fruits of so-called multiculturalism, the welfare state, and race-mixing are unintentionally unflatteringly exposed, Prince semi-stylishly depicts the patently pathetic life of a half-breed teenager with a lecherous white single mother and junky Moroccan hobo father who ostensibly ‘falls in love’ with a blonde beauty he barely knows and ultimately finds himself the victim of said blonde beauty’s tattoo-covered boyfriend and his four-wheeler-riding multicultural ‘gang,’ among other seemingly petty problems that seem quite grand to a virginal momma's boy who wants to make a name for himself in an innately materialistic lumpenprole microcosm where a person's reputation is based solely on what clothes they wear and what car they drive.
Obviously influenced by the films of Danish auteur Nicolas Winding Refn, especially Drive (2011) and Only God Forgives (2013), and to a lesser extent Adam Wingard's The Guest (2014), de Jong’s film has a sort of late-1980s/early-1990s neo-retro style and synthesizer-driven score (courtesy of Palmbomen aka ‘Kai Hugo’), thereupon making it all the more of a grating experience that it features a bunch of super swarthy turd-skinned Arab boys with glaringly greasy mullets who practically slobber over an extra fair-skinned blonde babe whose genetics they would love to destroy with their caveman DNA. Featuring a cast comprised of mostly non-actors (notably, every single one of the Arab actors uses their real-life first name, as if it would be too hard for them to use a fake name for their characters) who seem to epitomize Amsterdam’s new ‘vibrant’ post-racial (translation: uprooted, decultured, and mongrelized) society, Prince naturally features the sort of wholly imaginary and carefully sentimentalized depiction of how effeminate white bourgeois hipsters and leftists wish to think of multicultural lumpenprole neighborhoods. Of course, while every single Arab character is portrayed as a noble savage and/or victim of white racism, every single bully and villain (aside from a token buffer negro) is a heterosexual white male yet, to be fair, the film features a good portion of negative stereotypes that one typically associates with both Arabs and single mothers. For instance, none of the Arabs have jobs and they devote most of their time to destroying public property and committing petty crimes so that they can buy expensive designer clothing for the sole purpose of flaunting it around their friends. In that sense, both the Arab and white characters have the same morally and spiritually bankrupt Weltanschauung as the average young American negro, thus underscoring the totally deleterious effect that rap music has had on the West. Indeed, while the viewer is supposed to be highly sympathetic to the eponymous protagonist and his dubious plight, he is a gutter-level criminal and youthful low-life that is not beneath kicking his sister in the stomach and physically assaulting his mother. Yes, somehow the filmgoer is supposed to root for a small Middle Eastern mutt in his pursuit of procuring a tall blonde Dutch babe, as if cuckoldry is something the average viewer desires to experience. After all, the film’s target audience is clearly not Arabs, who clearly have no use for synth-pop or genre-bending quasi-arthouse films, among other things. A stoner Bildungsroman about a hapless bastard that wants to become a virtual aristocratic in his culturally confused ghetto where dysgenic relationships seem to be the norm, Prince is like a marginally artsy fartsy Dutch Stand by Me (1986) for a decidedly doomed generation without values or spirituality that has been spoon-fed since birth on a steady diet feel-good racial nihilism and kosher culture-distorting. If de Jong had any intention with the film aside from directing his own feature and attempting to further cultivate his cinematic craft, it was to try to give hope to the completely hopeless, which might be somewhat admirable if it were not a film about a Moroccan mongrel who is unwittingly committed to speeding up the racial apocalypse in the Netherlands.
Like most half-caste people in the West, 17-year-old Prince protagonist Ayoub (Ayoub Elasri) has a government-subsidized white single mother and a deadbeat foreign father who spends most of his time loitering and mumbling about pointless bullshit. Not surprisingly, Ayoub’s sister Demi (Olivia Lonsdale)—a considerably less swarthy girl who looks like she has Latin blood—has a different father, thus confirming that the protagonist's mother has particularly poor taste in men. Unfortunately for Ayoub and Demi, their mother is so poor that they have to share a bedroom. Despite the fact they are clearly living on the government’s dime as residents of a sterile looking Amsterdam housing project where all the apartment buildings seem like they were modeled after the ghettos of some Eastern European ex-communist shithole, Ayoub and his friends love spending their free time destroying government property, with blowing up mailboxes seeming to be their favorite pastime. The boys also enjoy incessantly collectively chewing on sunflower seeds, which is apparently a common custom among their Arab ancestors from the Moroccan motherland. Aside from his two mullet-sporting Arabs friends, Oussama (Oussama Addi) and Achraf (Achraf Meziani), Ayoub has a white best friend named Franky (Jorik Scholten), who looks like a young Robert Görl of the German electropunk/Neue Deutsche Welle band Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft (D.A.F.) and whose boorish philistine big brother Ronnie (played by non-actor Peter Douma, who was apparently a real-life bully that de Jong went to school with) is the leader of a local European-negro multicultural ‘gang.’ Ronnie is the typical dumb low IQ bully and he likes insulting Ayoub because of his mongrel blood and saying things to him like, “Pancake. Dog’s face. Son of a whore. Half-blood. Goddamn it.” Of course, Ayoub is a literal “son of a whore” and “half-blood,” so the insults naturally hurt but they also reaffirm the protagonist's desire to get serious and making something of himself. Indeed, at the beginning of the film after Ronnie insults him, Ayoub declares to his comrades, “Our time will come.” Unfortunately for him, at least at the beginning of the film, Ayoub believes that he is in love with a blonde babe that he does not even know named Laura (Sigrid ten Napel) who is the girlfriend of a tyrannical tattoo-covered degenerate named Vince that belongs to Ronnie’s gang. Needless to say, trouble comes Ayoub’s way when he begins hitting on Laura.
During the beginning of the film, Ayoub makes his sister Demi promise that she does not “become like mom” and she in turn makes him promise that he does not become like his deadbeat dope-addled dad. While his mother is a melancholic dipsomaniac with two bastard kids of varying racial pedigree who have different father, Ayoub’s dad is an even bigger loser as he is a discernibly dirty Moroccan junky bum with greasy long black curls who resembles a sort of perennially stoned gothic Latino cowboy. Rather pathetically, the protagonist regularly visits his father at the bottom of an empty blue swimming pool where he gives him money so that he can buy junk to shoot into his arm. At one point, Ayoub’s father gives him a wrinkled old black-and-white postcard and inexplicably states, “Whistler,” though he is an Indian-giver of sorts and later asks his son to give him back the seemingly worthless object. Naturally, like any child, Ayoub loves his father, but cannot emotionally deal with the fact that he is a heroin-addled hobo whose arms are covered in grotesque track marks. When Ayoub asks his mother what is wrong with his father, she acts somewhat evasive and describes him as a “little bird.” At one point in the film, Ayoub’s father gets so high that he starts laughing manically while grabbing all over his son to the point where the protagonist becomes so petrified that he flees from his padre and subsequently projectile vomits. Literally right after Ayoub vomits, a local ‘crime boss’ named Kalpa (Dutch rapper Freddy Tratlehner) pulls up in a shiny purple Lamborghini and throws the protagonist an energy drink and states, “Come and see me soon. It’s been too long.” Notably, this scene is stylized in a sort of ominous neo-Expressionist fashion, as Kalpa’s face is completely hidden behind the tinted window of his Lamborghini in a scenario that strangely reminded me of the sinister black-swathed coach that takes Thomas Hutter to Count Orlok’s castle in F.W. Murnau’s masterpiece Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922). Indeed, at this point in the film, especially in regard to the scenes featuring Kalpa, Prince becomes increasingly more Magical Realist oriented, which is of course a long tradition of Lowland cinema.
When Ayoub dares to attempt to talk to his would-be-ladylove Laura, she predictably tells her jealous boyfriend, so Ronnie and Vince decide to teach the protagonist a simple lesson. Indeed, after Ronnie pours a drink over Ayoub’s head, Vince spits in the protagonist's face. Being a small and scrawny half-caste towelhead that does not look like he has even reached puberty, Ayoub does not even bother to attempt to fight back. To make matters worse, Ayoub’s best friend Franky begins dating his beloved half-sister Demi. Feeling quite betrayed and jealous over the fact that his best friend and sister now have a fairly intimate relationship, Ayoub pathetically runs up to Franky, punches him in the nose, and then runs away. On top of that, Ayoub starts are argument with Demi that leads to him kicking her in the stomach and pushing their mother on the ground in a scene that more than clearly demonstrates that the protagonist will probably grow up to be a wife-beater just like his Islamic paternal ancestors. In revenge for punching his brother Franky and ultimately breaking his nose, Ronnie and his friends, including a big burly buffer negro that seems to lack the capacity to speak, take turns punching Ayoub to the point where his face is left bloody and bruised. Of course, seeing Ayoub take such a brutal gang beating rather upsets stereotypical feminine angelic beauty Laura, whose brutish boyfriend Vince smacks her around when she gets out of line and attempts to stop the interracial beating. After being betrayed by both his friends and family, Ayoub naturally feels lost and, with nowhere to turn, he seeks sanctuary in crazed cracker wigger criminal Kalpa, who ultimately attempts to get him to ‘embrace’ the dark side and become a underling in his small operation.
Somewhat curiously, when Ayoub first goes to see Kalpa—a stereotypical tall blond Dutchman, albeit of the particularly deranged and demented sort—the career criminal gives him an energy drink and a pair of fairly vulgar looking but quite expensive blue Giuseppe Zanotti designer shoes (how Kalpa knows the protagonist’s shoe size in advance is anyone’s guess). Kalpa is a sort of ‘Aryan Fagin’ and he is determined to lure Ayoub into his criminal operation with stupid gifts that appeal to image-obsessed teenagers like the protagonist whose social status is based solely on what shiny clothing and jewelry they wear. After telling Ayoub to put on his new Zanotti kicks, Kalpa opens a door in his house and reveals that he has a fully functioning butcher shop inside, including a giant pig that he proceeds to borderline sensual taunt, as if he gets a sexual kick out of torturing living things. As if to make a bizarre point to the protagonist about his power and to test his stomach, Kalpa then proceeds to gleefully slaughter the giant live pig in front of Ayoub. While all this is going on, Kalpa’s sidekick, a short and pedomorphic chap named Rudy, is smirking while grinding meat in a meat grinder. Apparently, as Ayoub's friends tell him at the beginning of the film, when Rudy began working for him, Kalpa began fucking his mother as a means to debase him and put him in his place. Before working for Kalpa, Rudy had a long blond ponytail and wore ‘wigger chic’ gangster style clothing, but now he has short dark slicked back hair and sports tight-fighting all-black clothing and strange jewelry, as if he is some sort of goth chic gangster who has fully embraced the darker side of criminality of materialism. On top of everything else, Rudy is curiously missing most of the fingers on one of his hands, as if he got it stuck caught in a meat grinder (or Kalpa intentionally put it in said meat grinder as some form of punishment). In short, Kalpa—a man that drives a Lamborghini and only owns that latest in expensive top designer goods by companies like Gucci, Valentino, and Rolex—quite literally epitomizes the evils of excess and material insatiability and he wants Ayoub to also adopt these vices so that he will become his virtual slave, hence why he gave them the Zanotti shoes and energy drinks. Initially, Kalpa's attempt to lure Ayoub to the dark side works quite well, as the protagonist walks around his neighborhood with his new Zanotti shoes like he owns the place and even treats his friends like they are pathetic plebs for not owning such cool kicks. For his first ‘job’ assignment, Kalpa has Ayoub drive a moped while Rudy rides on the back and hits a negro in the back of the head with a pipe so that they can steal his metal briefcase. For his efforts, Kalpa gives Ayoub a couple hundred Euros.
After getting beat up by Ronnie and his gang and then watching his dad shoot up heroin and collapse, Ayoub becomes extremely upset and literally runs to Kalpa’s pad for support where he is easily coerced into snorting a couple lines of cocaine and where the sadistic criminal ceremoniously places a golden crown on his head, hence the title of the film (in fact, in between snorting coke, Rudy declares that Ayoub is a “Prince”). Needless to say, it seems like a dream come true when Kalpa lets Ayoub drive his Lamborghini while he is high on cocaine, as it gives the protagonist the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. Unfortunately, while in the Lamborghini, Ayoub gets a call from his mother and learns that his father has just died of a heroin overdose (of course, Ayoub more or less witnessed said overdose and probably could have saved his father’s life had he called for help, but instead he decided to runaway like a scared little girl). When Kalpa repeatedly asks Ayoub in a creepy fashion “Who hurt you?” in regard to the black eye he has received from the gang beating and he tells him what happened, the sadistic criminal demands that the protagonist drive to where Ronnie's motley crew are hanging out so that they can teach them a valuable lesson. Indeed, after getting out of the Lamborghini upon arriving at their desired destination, Kalpa whips out two handguns, begins firing them in an indiscriminate fashion, and then demands that Ronnie and his thug pals get on the ground and begin licking the pavement while meowing like cats. While Rudy seem to delight in seeing Ronnie and his friends being debased by sadist Kalpa, Ayoub seems to be somewhat disturbed by how much his new friends are enjoying torturing other people. Of course, when Kalpa hands Ayoub one of his pistols and demands that he shoot Ronnie, the protagonist gets afraid, especially after he sees a vision of his father hovering over the gang leader. Somewhat absurdly, Ayoub decides to shoot Kalpa in the hand so that he drops his gun instead of Ronnie. Ultimately, Ayoub lets Ronnie and his friends go and then scares away Kalpa with his gun.
Rather ridiculously, Ayoub’s father long overdue death comes as a sort of blessing in disguise, as it causes everyone to feel sorry to him to the point where they want to be in his life again. Indeed, not only does Ronnie and Franky makeup with Ayoub, but Laura also decides to be his girlfriend. Indeed, apparently Laura’s father was also a “little bird” (aka self-destructive junky deadbeat) and somehow this unfortunate commonality with the protagonist makes her develop romantic feelings for him (of course, in reality, women are attracted to strength and not weakness, but Laura is probably damaged goods and, like the protagonist's mother, has poor taste in men). Additionally, Ayoub learns to accept that Franky loves his sister and the two best friends decide to let bygones be bygones and proceed to act as if their friendship did not have a temporary detour. Rather inexplicably, unhinged sadist Kalpa does not opt to seek revenge against Ayoub for betraying him and shooting him in the hand, even though he is a ruthless psychopath that enjoys personally slaughtering animals and torturing animals. Somewhat ironically, despite the fact that he hates being a half-breed, Ayoub never seems to consider that, if he gets with a chick like Laura and procreates with her, he will be perpetuating the same vicious circle of racially schizophrenic dysgenic misery that his mother bequeathed onto him when she senselessly opted to reproduce with a Moroccan junky deadbeat, but I digress. After all, clearly director de Jong wanted to make a film where style and sentimentality trumps sanity and sensibility.
Unquestionably an almost redundantly simple underdog tale where supposed good triumphs over supposed evil and ‘love’ (or at least the multicultural fairytale version of it) conquers all in the end, Prince is just too plain juvenile, thematically superficial, and sentimental for me to believe that auteur Sam de Jong—a considerably goofy looking and seemingly sinfully stupid fellow that comes off as a perennially giggling pothead philistine in an interview he did with Vice—is a malicious covert cinematic propagandist who like, say, loyal shabbos goy Quentin Tarantino or gargoyle-esque Judaic culture-distorter J.J. Abrams, wants to actively promote the destruction of the Occident and outbreeding of Europeans, yet his debut feature still manages to promote those anti-values all the same. After all, the culturally bankrupt ‘bobos’ (aka bourgeois bohemians) and aberrosexual hipsters at Vice would not produce such a film if it was anything less, as ethno-masochism and xenophilia just come with a territory when it comes to that would-be-wild bunch. Of course, with the recent New Year's Eve rape and sexual assault epidemic in Germany as committed by Arabs (notably, 25 out of 30 of the suspects were from Algeria and Morocco), de Jong’s film seems like a bad joke as directed by a hopelessly naïve and deracinated Dutchman who has never stopped to think of the true validity of the absurd multicultural fantasy that all races are exactly the same and have the some views on sex, love, and romance. What makes the film all the more absurd is that the teenage towelhead protagonist shows literally nil overt sexual infatuation with his love interest, as if he is a little boy whose balls have not dropped and lacks the thirst for pussy, when in reality a good percentage of the Arab rapists that have turned formerly relatively crime-free Sweden into the rape capital of the West are usually around the same age as the protagonist. In short, Arabs are not exactly known for being chivalrous hopeless romantics. Of course, one cannot deny that it takes a special sort of cuckold auteur to make his cinematic debut with a film where an Arab boy who physically assaults his own mother and sister is depicted as a righteous protagonist who deserves a nice blonde Aryan girl. To de Jong’s credit, he is not quite as shameful as fellow Dutch filmmaker Martin Koolhoven, who started out his filmmaking career in a quite promising fashion with the darkly surreal arthouse drama AmnesiA (2001), yet went on to completely sell his soul and make singularly moronic pro-miscegenation rom-coms like Het schnitzelparadijs (2005) aka Schnitzel Paradise where an inordinately sophisticated Moroccan uses his third world charms to woo a blonde babe. Naturally, one also cannot forget the assassination of Theo van Gogh by a Moroccan pothead who lived on government welfare in an Amsterdam ghetto not unlike the one depicted in Prince. Although he was brutally murdered in 2004 before things got really bad with Muslims in Europe, van Gogh prophetically demonstrated with his mini-series Najib en Julia (2003) and film Cool! (2004) that both multiculturalism and interracial romances are doomed to catastrophic tragedy for all parties involved.
As Prince unwittingly demonstrates, third world people make third world communities and no amount of Western comforts or neo-liberal public school brainwashing is going to change that as second and third generation Arabs in Western Europe have clearly demonstrated. In its depiction of a seeming semi-autistic loser protagonist with a unintentionally goofy personality, cast of curious characters that sport outmoded 1980s and 1990s clothing and haircuts, and somewhat contrived pathological quirkiness, Prince is like a non-comedic Dutch-Arab Napoleon Dynamite (2004) as directed by a dopey dork that wanted to make Drive but lacked the maturity and testicular fortitude, among other things. Undoubtedly, director de Jong has some talent as a filmmaker, especially where visuals are concerned, thus making it seem all the more of an artistic sin that he would figuratively bend over and take it in the ass from the deluded devils of political correctness. After all, if there is anything that all the great filmmakers of Dutch cinema have in common, it is that they were almost always subversive and proudly politically incorrect as the cinematic works of Adriaan Ditvoorst, Frans Zwartjes, Alex van Warmerdam, Jos Stelling, and even Paul Verhoeven clearly demonstrates. Of course, tragic Dutch auteur Ditvoorst included an Asiatic junky with a white girlfriend in his magnum opus/swan song De witte waan (1984) aka White Madness, but that does not mean he actively promoted miscegenation like de Jong (in fact, Ditvoorst’s film depicts a sort of pre-apocalyptic world and such a relationship can clearly be seen as a sign of a society that is on the brink of complete capitulation). Additionally, Dutch auteur Lodewijk Crijns has directed various commercial multiculturalism oriented comedies like Jezus is een Palestijn (1999) aka Jesus is a Palestinian and Alleen maar nette mensen (2012) aka Only Decent People, yet these are exceedingly incendiary and iconoclastic films that make South Park seem like Sesame Street.
Of course, Prince—a film that attempts to humanize the inhumane—is a cinematic work that ultimately demonstrates that you cannot polish a turd, let alone multiple turds, as a delusional flick that attempts to bring sappy sentimentalism to a multicultural ghetto. Indeed, the viewer is somehow expected to sympathize with delinquent noble neo-savages who engage in crime, assault women, blow up public property, and contribute to the overall deterioration of the Netherlands by turning it into a third world hellhole. In the age of taharrush gamea where even leftists and liberals are beginning to realize that multiculturalism is an abject failure and that so-called ‘migrants’ are actually parasitic hostile invaders who seek to destroy the Occident and plan to accomplish what their ancestors had been trying for well over a thousand years, the film almost seems like a sick joke at the expense at the viewer's intelligence. As the bastard brood of an irresponsible and idiotic white Christian European mother who presumably forgot to wear a condom and a Moroccan Muslim father who would not even be in the Netherlands were it not for the fact that West European politicians are bought whores who are doing the bidding of their globalist masters and rely on the untermensch vote to win elections, the titular protagonist of Prince can be seen as the contemporary equivalent of the ‘tragic half-breed,’ thus making it all the more absurd that the film concludes with the character starting a romance with a blonde and very potentially spreading his genetic curse by getting her pregnant. As far as I am concerned, the only chance de Jong ever has of becoming a formidable auteur with an original vision is if he has a lengthy stay at a special reeducation camp, but maybe I am being a little bit too optimistic.
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 10:25 AM
Soiled Sinema 2007 - 2013. All rights reserved. Best viewed in Firefox and Chrome.