Cultural journalist since 1996. Worked as theatre critic, columnist and reporter for Algemeen Dagblad, Utrechts Nieuwsblad, Rotterdams Dagblad, Parool and regional newspapers through Associated Press Services. Interviews for TheaterMaker, Theatererkrant Magazine, Ons Erfdeel, Boekman. Podcast maker, likes to experiment with new media. Culture Press is called the brainchild I gave birth to in 2009. Life partner of Suzanne Brink roommate of Edje, Fonzie and Rufus. Search and find me on Mastodon.
Cultuurpers heeft een nieuwe site. De oude site was alweer dik 2 jaar oud. En dat is hoogbejaard, in internet-tijd. We konden ook niet achterblijven bij De Correspondent, Dutch Cowboys en Medium. Wie leest er immers nog internet van een PC-scherm? Juist. Niemand. Analyse van onze bezoekgegevens leerde dat het aantal mobiele lezers van onze site hand over hand toenam.…
Being able to write nicely is fine, but the journalists at Culture Press can do more. They have studied to be art experts, spent thousands of hours in rooms and halls that even you didn't know existed, and possess enormous drive. How else could this website exist?
He could have become an important director, but was at the wrong time, in the wrong place. In the end, his illness fatally bothered Matthias Mooij. Yesterday, this still young theatre-maker died of lung cancer, more than a year and a half after the premiere of his first large-venue production: Mogadishu. With that performance, of a play written by the English writer Vivienne Franzmann, Mooij put a new tone in the theatre: no longer did he fall back on theatre-familiar, mainly German and Austrian repertoire, opting instead for British authors.
About the same time as the train from Donietsk to Kharkov arrived in my mailbox yesterday, a press release from the Manifesta. Our cultural pride in St Petersburg. These weeks, the Dutch festival is organising an audio tour of Rimini Protokoll, the renowned highly political company from Germany. Oh. And, as a third item: there is a conversation tonight about what the Biennale is capable of in times of political turmoil.
Ooit hadden mensen een krant. Op de redactie wisten een paar mensen waarom mensen een krant hadden. Maar het was een fact of life. Mensen hadden een krant. Wie geen krant had was geen mens. Tegenwoordig hebben mensen geen krant meer. Ze hebben internet. Wie geen internet heeft, is achterlijk.
Who can tell the story of Deventer? Apply. And if you manage to convince the committee, you can touch a nice salary for three years. As director of the first museum production house in the world.
'The practice of payment by book voucher does not belong to a professional sector with substantial economic importance.' Jeffrey Meulman, director of the Dutch theatre festival, has learned to live with it. Against his will. As host of the annual Gala of Dutch Theatre, he has managed to organise that party again. Without money.
One and a half million euros sounds quite a lot. So a cry of joy will be heard here and there now that Jet Bussemaker is allocating that extra amount to culture. After all, this is yet another make up after the almost 300 million her ministry took from the sector earlier. However, the conditions the culture minister attaches to the money tell a different story: the money is only for art that is demonstrably useful.
Ivo van Hove has not only a play made based on Ayn Roland's novel of ideas The Fountainhead. In 2006, the artistic director of Toneelgroep Amsterdam even wanted to base a whole new design of the theatre system on it. Eight years later, we can see that only the negative aspects of Van Hove's vision have been realised.
In Rome, they have known what good food is for 20 centuries or so. Bloodletting is everything. Seneca, a Roman of the better sort, wrote plays that elevated bloodshed to an art. Audiences feasted on them, just as they feasted on Seneca's recipes in Shakespeare's time, 1,500 years later, and as we feast on Game of Thrones on TV now. It can't be gory, can't be cruel enough. We like that.
In March this year the Culture Council sounded the alarm. Unique under the new leadership, which is usually extremely docile when it comes to cultural cuts. But what happens to music schools, children's drama schools, libraries and amateur orchestras is otherwise entirely up to the citizens themselves, and their local councils. This is the minister's response to the chamber.
Every Holland Festival there is at least 1 performance which a lot of people wonder why it is programmed. This year, that honour falls to 'Bestiaire d'Amour' by and starring Isabella Rosselini. We take a moment to look for answers.
Topical again, now that Toneelgroep Amsterdam is reprising the show, my review from 2014. This week, the stage adaptation of The Fountainhead premiered. The book is terrible, the performance rattles, the actors win only narrowly. The content, however, creates even more confusion, which is why I won't stop you from going to see it. And Hans Kesting, of course. I put it this way.
Visitors to the film Napoleon, last Sunday at Ziggo Dome, who had thought of booking dinner in one of the intermissions, will get their money back. This was decided by the Holland Festival after a commotion arose on the internet, and beyond, about the caterer's lousy service, and the rather poor quality of what was on offer. Visitor Marc Veerkamp said the following on facebook:
Talent alone won't get you there. You also need a bit of luck. That luck happened to Alain Platel so often by now that you almost doubt your own wickedness. Still. Those who not only count a composer like Fabrizio Cassol among their friends, but who also gave singing prodigy Serge Kakudji a chance, deserve a bit of luck. What the trio has now achieved with 13 musicians from Kinshasa is downright revolutionary. And a death knell for those who believe that north and south can never really meet. I experienced it on Monday, 16 June. And it still echoes.
Language is music. Sometimes we forget that. Then we think language is a way of conveying objective meanings. Bit silly. Language is food for all the senses. No strumming is needed under that. That's pure opera without frills. The English-language performance 'tis Pity she's a whore' I saw at the Holland Festival yesterday proves that. Even if you don't understand the seventeenth-century phrases, it is a joy to listen to.
Saturday, June 14, went off in a flood of evening gowns, dinner jackets, Dutch celebrities and Gooische Tanks War Horse premiered. A play about a war in which the Netherlands was neutral, and of which there are memorial stones in every village in the rest of the world. You can go and see it. Or not. We have listed six arguments.
This year's trip will go to India and Nepal. Because that seemed nice to him. Visitors to the Dutch premiere of Jelinek's Die Schutzbefohlene were looking forward to the summer. Next year they would visit a friend in Vietnam. Little hassle to get a visa. As a white European, the whole world is yours. You can go anywhere. The man did not realise how privileged he was.
In school, we used to have a very good way to check the quality of wine: the yield. Wine with 14% alcohol was better than wine with 12% alcohol. After all, the goal was clear: to get drunk. Wine of 14% was more effective at that. So we preferred to drink wine with a yield of at least 14%.
Dutch museums do not pay for the art they present. Cable companies stick money from writers in their own pockets. Spreading new journalism platforms without permission and without paying the work of small independents. Libraries are closing, and are being replaced by private libraries or school libraries.
450,000 euros they need to raise, the 15 culturally optimistic signposts of Public. All but a few were born well past 1980, so they don't suffer from any baby boomer arrogance or generational nit-picking: these are real, young, happy Amsterdammers.
Barely five months between first audition and first performance. That was all the time the makers and local residents had for the Volksopera Ondiep, which experienced the first of two performances on Friday 23 May. It was a warm May evening, touching at times, sometimes dreadful, but fun anyway: classics by Verdi (most of them), Bizet, Puccini and Offenbach, set to Dutch text and sung by complete amateurs. Accompanied, for once, by the Groot Omroepkoor.
We are all a little afraid of losing control. So we are reluctant to like 'Europe', we are frightened by the unprecedented world powers lurking in our mobile communication devices and we think the public transport chip card is an onion, all the while being motivated every day to want newer, better, higher, more.
The Valley of Astonishment. Titles don't come much prettier than that of 'The Valley of Astonishment'. Theatre legend Peter Brook's tentative last play is coming to Amsterdam. The Holland Festival gave me and two journalists from Parool and NRC, respectively, the opportunity to talk to the already legendary director when he was alive. Pretty special, because the man who enchanted an entire generation of theatre-makers and audiences with performances such as the nine-hour Mahabharata in Avignon, is considered a deity among theatre connoisseurs and enthusiasts.
Someone commented on Facebook that it looked a bit odd for a newspaper to hand out stars for a play based on The Diary of Anne Frank. Although I myself shudder to give out stars this early for a Godwin make, surely there is something to The Play and The Review. Indeed, reviews of The Play to The Diary seem superfluous. For how do you review such a play, with such a history? Isn't fuss about layering or no layering, adventurousness or no adventurousness in the direction even a little irreverent? So these are three issues, which led me to consider that maybe it shouldn't be possible at all. Anne review.
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