L’amour des moules (2012)

Directed by: Willemiek Kluijfhout | 73 minutes | documentary

Mussels: whether you’re eagerly awaiting the start of the season or have ever hung over the toilet gagging because of an incorrectly prepared mussel meal. Whether you think that the inhabitants of the bottom of the (Wadden) Sea should be left alone or you believe that the new harvest cannot be brought to the coast quickly enough. You are a lover of or have an aversion to shellfish, a middle way seems impossible. An absolute supporter of the mussels is the maker of documentary ‘L’amour des moules’, Willemiek Kluijfhout, who seems to be singing lyrically to the mussel thanks to the eye-pleasing images.

Bottom fishing must be sustainable by 2020, the government has stated. This also means that companies in the mussel industry have to adapt to a new way of fishing. In ‘L’amour des moules’, traditional mussel fishermen such as father and son Stef and Henk Jumelet as well as mussel grower Annelies Pronkers, who in her hatchery in Yerseke in Zeeland, stimulate mussels until they spawn, have their say. Both parties are given plenty of time to adjust the prejudices about their vision, but it is of course an issue that cannot be solved with a documentary of barely five quarters of an hour.

As the film poster nominated for a Cinema.nl poster prize implies, there is a certain amount of eroticism in ‘L’amour des moules’. When the camera records with extreme close-ups how the mating of each other – not touching! – mussels, this results in titillating images. In addition, it is fascinating to see the broods (filmed so close up that they are most reminiscent of gingerbread cookies) grow: it is as if they are performing a dance. It is in those scenes that ‘L’amour des moules’ makes the most impression.

In addition to the Zeeland mussel industry, the Belgian mussel is also discussed. The Belgians may well be called major consumers of black gold. The famous chef Sergio Herman of the restaurant Oud Sluis in Sluis, Zeeland-Flemish, talks charmingly about his love-hate relationship with the mussel. How he took over his father’s restaurant and found himself forced to serve bland mussel dishes alongside his beautifully served salads during the mussel season (anything but spring). Now Oud Sluis has grown into a multi-star restaurant for which you certainly have to book a table for an entire mussel season in advance to enjoy dishes that make your mouth water.

‘L’amour des moules’ also introduces us to the entertaining phenomenon of the mussel queen, something you can probably only understand if you grew up in the area. And in a fragment whose relevance at first seems to be absent, we see a surgeon who talks about the two hundred annual interventions per year that are performed in his hospital. After some time it becomes clear that this interview does have to do with mussels. With her documentary, Willemiek Kluijfhout sketches a varied picture of the mussel, in which the variety in interviews and the portrayal of this has a major influence on the attention span of the viewer. Some pieces are a bit on the boring side for the outsider, but that is made up for with the beautiful photography of the shapely shellfish or an interesting interview. ‘L’amour des moules’ is a must-see for mussel lovers in any case, but people with some interest in nature and/or Dutch culture will also enjoy this film.