“Everything in the body says: man, go lie down in your bed. But I like this. They will not take this from me.” Jan Rot participates at The smartest person (KRO-NCRV) with two or three sweaters over each other. He minimizes his movements and sometimes seems to be gasping for breath – as a viewer you never get the opportunity to forget that the singer is seriously ill. Rot, a know-it-all who ten years ago narrowly reached the final of The smartest person lost, wanted to participate in the program again.
That wondrous wish makes The smartest person for days into an intimate viewing experience. Because although the broadcasts were previously recorded and Jan Rot is now just doing other things, his presence makes the quiz a metaphor for the finiteness of existence. Whoever wins, earns an extension of his quiz life by one day. So you always think: let Jan Rot participate for an extra day, as if he also gets an extra day of life.
In addition, Rot plays beautifully. He doesn’t get worked up for a moment, smiles at his own mistakes, sighs: “We’re all messing around.” When he can’t think of Rita Verdonk’s name for a moment, he says ‘Ah, that woman’, as if he feels sorry for her. In between, he shares sweet anecdotes about how Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees was his great love. Every morning he gave the poster in his room a kiss. “Just on the cheek.” When he has narrowly defeated his opponent in the endgame, he sends a smile to the other side, head slightly askew.
sweet boy with long hair
But everything comes to an end. Wednesday Rot was on the broadcast for the fifth night and had a hard time. He started an anecdote about childhood photos of himself that moved him: “A sweet boy with very long hair”, but he didn’t add much to it. “It’s not very pleasant today. The brain works very slowly.” A little later he still told a nice story about André Hazes, for whom he had once translated a song. “You have written too good a text,” said the folk singer. “I can’t sing like that.”
Rot reached the threshold of the semi-final, but the lyricist had to give in to an extremely prosaic subject: Vinexwijken. Rot sighed, shook his head and said “No, stop.” To him, director Johan Nijenhuis said “Fourth Memorandum of Spatial Planning” and thus Rock’s fate was sealed. “That you now have to give up at a Vinex district”, said Philip Freriks comfortingly – although he will not easily forget the five days with the gentlest of all the smartest.
The smartest person wasn’t the only program to cast the shadow of a death foretold. Tim Hofman was ready for the third episode by Over my dead body (BNNVARA), in which he and the sick Irene and her mother searched for the place where she would like to be buried. The mother is also terminally ill, which led to the absurdist question of which of them would die first. “I’ll probably be first, won’t I?” her mother said to Irene.
The images of 31-year-old Roy, who had surgery for his brain tumor, were heart-stopping. About the photo of the tumor, Hofman had said: “Guns, what a big thing.” Roy was not put under anesthesia, so questions could be asked to verify that healthy tissue was not being damaged. So, with his skull open, Roy had to repeat words that were said to him: “Legend, mandarin, adventure, gorilla, chocolate, exercise, make-up, discussion, calendar.” He fulfilled the order with calm seriousness; a man who knows that sometimes the small questions have to be answered first.
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