Director's Statement
Renzo da Sirocco
In Autumn 2017, before the pandemic shattered our fantasies of innocence, and deep in the throes of the European refugee crisis; Manon Hanraets and I set out to the Mediterranean island of Corsica to live out a naïve fantasy of our own: to make a film that brought to life our meaning of independent––a word used too often these days to describe blockbusters and the blockbuster festivals they screen at.
Drunk and stoned on a terrace in the late Summer dusk of Amsterdam, I found cheap flights and impulsively booked. We were both at the beginning of professional and personal journeys that saw us first meet in a pizza restaurant where she was waitressing just back from a divorce in Barcelona, and I having just emigrated to the Netherlands from Australia, hopelessly studying political science.
We were feeling wild, we were ready to fall totally in love, to break free. But we were bogged down in the uniformity and estrangement of modern society, one spent staring dumbly into smart phones; lonely city lives moving from the office box to the home box, disconnected from ourselves and each other and hustling to make a living. We had an idea, a theme, one that would take on much irony in the post-pandemic world:
Take off your mask
The fakeness of the smile that hides the inner desperation; the longing for human touch in parading the sexy body on a night on the town; the friend who is not your true confidant but uses you to prop up their own ego. What is the alternative? How can we cut through this madness, this hysteria, this disillusionment––to find our own truth––to stand in our own power and achieve liberation?
We had only vague ideas for scenario at first, but we had faith in the theme, and that when we arrived we would be inspired by the place––by the spirit itself of setting out into the unknown. After being introduced to actor Arabi Ghibeh over coffee in Amsterdam, there was also little doubt of the dynamic between him and Ms. Hanraets. This too would guide the work. As we began filming on the island, we became flooded with inspiration; Ms. Hanraets and I would exuberantly discuss the day’s work each evening as she feverishly scrawled onto a notepad the potential story arc; though constantly evolving, this allowed us to practically map out our shooting days across various locations.
Accompanying us to Corsica and later present in Amsterdam were cameraman Joris Dorrestein and sound technician Koos van der Vaart––two recent graduates of the Dutch Film Academy. The five of us formed the core cast and crew, with supporting cast fleshed out with people Ms. Hanraets and I know in our personal lives, most of whom are not trained actors.
We lived together, sharing every meal and smoking too many cigarettes. There were nights of pirate-style debauchery and singing into the forests and the sea that surrounded us in this paradise. This bond between us made us agile on set, flexible, supportive, and, although egos flared at times, working without hierarchy. Everyone's opinion was taken into consideration––this democratic process undoubtedly making the work stronger. By that Winter filming in Amsterdam, we were thick as thieves and greeted each other like family.
We did not have €100k cameras and vans full of useless equipment. Mr. Dorrestein mastered the Sony A73 I had bought on sale mounted on a simple retail hand-held camera mount. Mr. Van der Vaart used his own sound equipment. We used only light available on the location itself. We shot around weather, sound disruptions, emotions that flared between us, and random public walking through shot. There was no location manager, no gaffer, no caterer; lunch was a sandwich or a pizza bought at the roadside. Nobody cared, we were all high on the adventure, the thrill of making what was not yet known to us. I would fall into bed every night, exhausted with tears of joy in my eyes. I couldn't sleep from excitement for the next day's shoot.
We could not have done it without the generosity of the beautiful Corsican people; they allowed us to install ourselves on locations around the island at no cost to the micro-budget pulled together from my work at a hotel and loans from my parents and the bank. These same locals also appeared in the film; we captured them living their lives and doing their jobs in their own residences and places of business. This authenticity flowed seamlessly into the deep friendship that was forming between the two lead actors. The more scenes we shot, the more the story began to take shape, the one lending itself to the other until it became clearer where we heading next.
Winter 2017, Amsterdam. Far from the sun and back in the swing of our 'ordinary' lives, it felt like the dream was over. And this indeed is the feeling of the city as it appears in the film. Whereas on Corsica, we shot whatever we wanted, whenever the impulse arrived as we were all present and without other preoccupations, back in Holland we were subjected to scheduling conflicts, streets choking with people, grumpy façades. This infuses what would become act one with a certain mood.
When we wrapped photography, we drifted apart, this small traveling circus scattered to the winds and I set down in Middelburg in the south of the Netherlands to edit. The first version of this film was completed in 2021. It was not correct and rushed due to a foolhardy producer we began working with who filled our head with lies. Ms. Hanraets and I also fell out and drifted apart for a year, before realising that we are on unavoidable parallel paths in life, and coming together having learned the same lessons, realised the film needed to be re-worked again.
Several years later, in March 2023, I finally sat down in Hvar, Croatia and began work on Just a Ride, again. The irony that this film is called Just a Ride, when in fact, it has been anything but 'just' a ride. Aligning with the personal journeys Ms. Hanraets and I had been on while apart, the film would now focus on the journey of the female protagonist as she moves from unconsciousness to self-awareness. We believe that this vital quest must happen before we can authentically connect with another.
When I wrapped post-production for the second time on the Vietnamese island of Phú Quôc in June this year, I had taught myself how to edit, colour grade, sound mix and master a feature film. I can say, with much earned pride, whatever may or may not happen with this film, we did it! The first version of the film totalled €27.000 at the end of post-production. This time around, I did not spend one cent. Doing everything yourself, though time-consuming and at times exquisitely excruciating, offers the great treasure of self-discovery.
Just a Ride is a story about getting to the bottom of yourself. The action grows from the realisation that we cannot lie to ourselves anymore, that we must fearlessly take a plunge into the unknown and shine a light on what is causing us pain and keeping us stuck. Only then may we help other people in their healing. I often think of the words spoken during every in-flight safety announcement:
'Please ensure your own oxygen mask is in place before helping those around you.'
I hope Just a Ride inspires you to break free yourself. To take a deep, hard look at your innermost self and commit yourself to the ride. It's not easy; to quote Dante and as this film illustrates:
'Long and dark is the road that leads up out of hell and into the light.'
I pray we may all one day find the light.
-Renzo da Sirocco
Hengchun, Taiwan
12 October 2025