Roos Rebergen – I don’t know that well (2009)

Directed by: Bas Berkhout | 39 minutes | documentary | With: Roos Rebergen, Johan Rebergen, Tineke Rebergen, Job Rebergen, Tim van Oosten

‘The farm is falling apart,’ Roos Rebergen sings, while in slow motion we see exactly the opposite. Miraculously, ‘De Koeioneur’ takes shape again and Roos’ tears are pushed back. When she sings about the fate of this beautiful location, a wonderful proverbial injection (without anaesthetic!), director Bas Berkhout shows the farm as it was in all its picturesque glory. A nice, creative environment where the Rebergen family has been living visibly happily for about thirteen years and where little Roos has been able to develop at ease from a little girl who sings cowboy songs in the yard, to a full-fledged artist who knows how to play full pop halls.

Berkhout followed the young Roos for over a year and a half, from early 2007 until well into 2008, to make a musical portrait of this rising star in music. It turned out later that it was a crucial period in her development, in which not only the parental home was razed to the ground, but also in which her official debut CD with her band Roosbeef was on the way. A period in which Roos was forced to grow up. As a person, but also as an artist. As brother Job puts it:[De band is leuk] because [Roos] so very small, but still very big on stage. But at a certain point that also gets boring.’ She can’t stay the little girl forever, no matter how safe that may seem.

That tension is palpable throughout the documentary. Roos prefers to show her little girl side. She visibly struggles with adult subjects. “I don’t really know,” she replies when asked what the prospect of the farm disappearing means to her. And when father Johan does try to give a serious answer to the situation, she draws attention to herself by giggling and stuffing pieces of bread into her nostrils. But although Berkhout leaves enough room for her youthful craziness, he also gently forces Roos to let go of the semi-tough indifference and to face adult reality. And that produces beautiful moments.

The story of Roos’ childhood on the farm and her departure to her own room in the city is graced with ‘musical fragments’ that give a good picture of Roosbeef’s repertoire. The necessary variation has been made in the presentation of the songs: one time an animation is shown, the other time images of a performance are used. That variety is nice, but what is striking about the performances is that with one exception no dates or locations are mentioned. Yet that is only a small loss, since the documentary only covers a period of one and a half years.

Besides Roos, the old residents of the farm (the Mulder family) also have their say, as well as Roos’ parents Johan and Tineke, brother Job and drummer Tim. Together they do not so much tell the story of Roos as of the farm ‘De Koeioneer’ and the beautiful small-scale music festival that was held there every year. However, this does not mean that Roos is pushed into the background, as the farm has been such a determining factor for her personal and musical education. Perhaps the documentary would have benefited from some personal confessions about Roos, but the question is whether this would really have created a different picture. By not giving in to this, Berkhout’s image of the young singer also remains much purer.

Roos once stated in an interview as the theme of her debut album: ‘To have a place where you feel good.’ That place was farm ‘De Koeioneer’, to which her first CD remains inextricably linked. A place that the municipality of Duiven found it necessary to make way for new construction. In addition to being a disarming portrait of a young musical trendsetter, this documentary is therefore also a silent protest against the reckless urge to expand in Dutch municipalities, in which there seems to be no room for sustainable cultural initiatives. ‘De Koeioneer’ is no more, but thanks to Bas Berkhout and Roos Rebergen, the memory remains alive in a beautiful document of time.