The leader sets the tone right from the start. Against the background of a series of blue-tinted video stills of dreary Amsterdam, dull inserts push each other out of the frame in turn to the rhythm of what can only bring to mind a tacky television tune. Following the codes of the reality soap they introduce the protagonists one by one: The Boy Next Door, Number One, Bastard Face, The Strange One, The Father Figure, The Beautiful Neighbour. They are street boys who come across each other in the 'coffee' shop on the corner. The video camera records their encounters. Not 'out in the open', but from a flat facing the coffee shop, a highly voyeuristic perspective.
In order to observe The Boy Next Door unawares, the camera scrupulously bores its way through Venetian blinds, or the letterbox, at times recording no more than the inside of a ventilator. Neither the boy nor his mates seem to be aware of the camera. Their performance is perfectly natural, the location unadulterated. Is this for real? What is the status of the material filmed, of this frayed series of casual encounters? The images, the boys, their activities are not spectacular at all until the commentator provides additional information. He describes, fills in, sees and makes connections, makes individuals of the boys and mala fide practices of their goings on. He makes the viewer believe in a story of friendship and betrayal. From bits of shabby reality he creates a heroic epic, a storyline that is actually not manifest. Is it relevant whether the scenes have been faked or not? Between the lines Haines seems to be saying that each observation, each frame involves interpretation; each projection forces a substitute reality.
As long as we wander about in postmodernism, the cutting edge between reality and fiction is a recurring motif added and played out by the media. Haines plays with the codes as with fire. A turn can come at any moment, just as the tension between the boys can 'ignite' at any time. The viewer is continually being made aware that the boys might discover the camera and catch the viewer at his voyeuristic cravings. Again and again the point-of-view of the camera is almost annoying. Where then can the viewer turn for something to identify with? The camera is simply the most obvious choice, for its field of vision is, after all, that of the viewer. But although society has become accustomed to the blatant use of security cameras and to the popularity of the hidden camera in television land, all things considered, it remains a practice very much open to discussion. And then we have this voice-over: how honourable is his interest in The Boy Next Door?
Haines questions the integrity of the maker by magnifying the power game of the narrator. This makes his clumsy investigation into the manipulative possibilities of audiovisual media and its impact on the collective image personal and plausible.
– Jellichje Reijnders
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