A Sad, Sad Film Academy Mess

So, yesterday I was invited to the Dutch Film and Television Academy for two admission conversations, plus an undisclosed assignment. This was round two of round two (not kidding) of the whole admissions stuff.

I’ll just say this upfront for everybody who doesn’t know this about me: I have absolutely no interest in Dutch films. That’s right, no tolerance or respect for the damn things. I don’t like the dialogue, the character developments, the style of acting — I can go on, but I think I made my point here.

When you put those two facts (admission talks at the Dutch Film Academy and my dislike for Dutch films) together, what do you get? A sad, sad mess, that’s right.

The whole scene started in the early morning. We were let into a private room in which we — the six people who were asked back for round two of round two; are you still with me? — were put to work on our assignment. It was a pretty damn easy assignment if you ask me; we were given a short story, a film script based upon that short story and a questionnaire about the two. Eight (or was it ten?) questions about the adaption to film, the total of shooting days needed, character descriptions, and stuff. I was done pretty early on, so had to wait a while for my first conversation to commence. (Weird sentence, that one.)

The first “admissions meeting” was with teachers. Three female, one male. The man was friendly, but kept on bugging me with the same questions over and over and over. Woman “A”¹ was very friendly, asked me insightful questions and came off as intelligent. “B” was rude from time to time; she didn’t believe half of what I told, even after I had totally squashed her doubts. I was ready to get into a “Dynasty” catfight with her at one point, but thank god “A” saved the mood. Now, “C” was totally mysterious. She had the greatest pokerface I’ve ever seen — usually I can sense the mood of people toward my answers by their facial expressions, but she was all botoxified. I still wonder if she is ever able to show emotions on her face… She was nice though, a little bit rough on some questions, but overall a gentle human being.

How did the conversation go? Generally pretty mellow, with its ups and downs. I would say more downs than ups, especially when it came to their questioning of my “internationality.”

Here is where the whole hatred of Dutch films comes into the conversation. Of course I couldn’t blurt that out into the conversation, or even let it known to them. So I had to play it well, I knew that upfront. Yet, they were really bashing me on it!

Woman “B”: “Can you name any directors you like — or do you think Dutch films aren’t worth watching?!?!”

I’m not joking with the “?!?!,” she was really fired up all of a sudden. I wanted to say the following,

Me: “Well, now that we’re on the subject — NO. Most of them aren’t!”

— but I didn’t of course. Talk about buzz-kill. So I skillfully talked me out of that situation, but apparently not skillfully enough, because a few minutes later and we’re back in the same jam again. Sigh.

My real issue with all of this isn’t that they kept hammering me on it. Well, sure, I took issue with that — I mean seriously, what was their problem?! — but what bugged me more was that it even mattered! What do they care if I like Dutch films, yes or no? Has that any relevance in relation to my admission? NO. They should’ve been asking me questions that showed them insight into my “talent,” into my state of mind, into the way I would handle different situations. Yet, they didn’t. I made a whole freaking short subject² for the whole admissions process, and they didn’t even question me on it. I’m not kidding you, they asked me a total of zero questions about it. So what was the point of making it a requirement in the first place?! SERIOUSLY!

They were so obsessed with me having an “international mind” that they flunked at doing what they were suppose to do — uphold an intelligent admission conversation. I’m not even going to start about the second meeting, which I had with students of the academy. That one was an even sadder mess, with absolutely no substance.

Do I want to go to a school that is that arrogant, ignorant and stupid? NO.

Next week I’ll hear if I’m admitted. At this point I don’t even care — I think I would be happier if I would be denied. Sure, I have no idea what to do then, but at least I’m not jeopardizing my own integrity with it.

Ugh, just thinking about this whole experience makes me sick. I need brandy…