Netflix’s Story of Dutch Ecstasy Kingpin Is Sharp and Satisfying

Ferry Bouman is the unnerving, complex villain of a two-season Netflix original series and feature film

Image: Netflix

At first glance, Netflix's Undercover presents like a typical drug cartel drama.

The show’s star and villain, Ferry Bouman (Frank Lammers), certainly looks the part of the quintessential mobster; he’s a lofty, leather-jacket-wearing, wet-look-hair-gel kind of guy, oozing chilly ruthlessness and gangster swag.

But underneath the stereotypical facade lies the story of an unpredictable and multifaceted character, told through a two-season series and newly released feature film, Ferry, which delves into his early life and tumultuous path to becoming one of the biggest ecstasy dealers in the world.

The story goes like this: From the picturesque region of Limburg (that spans across parts of Belgium and the Netherlands), Ferry, whose character is loosely based on the Dutch drug lord Janus van Wesenbeeck, produces millions of pastel-colored pills that he ships all the way across the globe to cities like New York, London, and Sydney.

Unbeknownst to him, the Belgian and Dutch police forces have unleashed an elaborate undercover operation to infiltrate his network, set up a dummy drug deal, and catch him in the act.

The success of the mission mostly relies on two agents. Kim De Rooij (Anna Drijver), who is Dutch, is posing as amiable, easy-going stewardess Anouk. She pretends to be dating Belgian Bob Lemmens (Tom Waes), who goes by Peter. Unlike Kim, Bob is stony-faced and reserved; he pretends to import and export natural stones and plans to eventually convey to Ferry that he’s very open to transporting other kinds of stuff, too.

To that end, Kim and Bob set base in a cramped, decrepit caravan, which they profess to rent on weekends, at the Zonnedauw campsite and trailer park located in the Belgian part of Limburg. Most of Undercover’s first season takes place at Zonnedauw, where Ferry owns a “chalet” — a king-sized trailer home — the inside of which sports pink satin curtains and matching armchairs, most likely the choice of Ferry’s much-younger, kooky wife Danielle, whose penchant for all things kitsch and colorful also extends to her wardrobe.

Much of the show’s allure springs from this outlandish setting, a refreshing departure from the predictable tale of the cash-flashing, lavish drug lord. While Ferry made a fortune from selling party drugs, there are no champagne showers, coke-fuelled orgies in sprawling mansions (though Bouman owns one), or violent extravaganza à la Scarface.

Crucially, the campsite setting allows Ferry to run a tight ship, as his fellow mobsters also own trailers at Zonnendaum, though theirs aren’t nearly as swanky as Ferry’s crib. This includes John Zwart (Raymond Thiry), his most trusted friend and right-hand man, who was married to Ferry’s late sister Claudia (Monic Hendrickx, who appears in Ferry). With short grey hair, icy blue eyes, and a thick scar on his right cheek, John looks sharp and menacing; he’s also frightfully perceptive and suspicious to a fault.

John’s instant dislike of Bob and his fierce protection of Ferry puts a spanner in the works more than once. For most of season one, the undercover agents yo-yo between gaining and losing Ferry’s trust and the initiation tests that Bob is subjected to are multiple and relentless. To add to the challenge, the cramped caravan that Kim and Bob share exacerbates their already fraught relationship, with potentially irreversible implications for the operation.

The undercover mission almost falls apart when Bob struggles to keep his machismo in check and gets into a brutal scuffle with John’s son-in-law Jurgen (Kevin Janssens) after he gets too cozy with Kim on the dancefloor of the local bar. Kim’s confidence irritates Bob, who sees himself as the man in charge. He resents her for taking initiative, like when she ignores his advice to lay low and heads to Ferry’s trailer to introduce herself to Danielle. And yet, this first encounter gets the momentum going and sparks an intense, tangled friendship between Kim and Danielle that becomes central to the show.

Like all good crime dramas, there’s plenty of tense dialogue, ferocious standoffs, and bloody acts of vengeance, though violence is rarely gratuitous. Killings are business, never personal, and business is carried out with urgency and conscientiousness, and sometimes with surprising tack. Upon finding out his crew had secretly enslaved workers in their drug lab, including one who bolted, Ferry screams: “If you paid them and didn’t feed them filthy sausages, nobody would run away.”

This isn’t to say that Ferry is a good guy, though the prequel Ferry showcases a sensitive and tender side of his personality, particularly towards his wife Danielle, who he met on Zonnendaum several years earlier when he was still working as a hit-man for drug dealer Brink (Huub Stapel).

Still, even in Ferry, which makes for a more fulfilling watch after having seen Undercover, it’s clear he has little concern for morality. His ambition is zealous, and his thirst for power limitless; he seeks dominion at almost any cost. And so it’s to the credit of directors (Frank Devos and Eshref Reybrouck on Undercover, and Cecilia Verheyden on Ferry), the show’s writers, and Frank Lammers’s acting, that Ferry is so shockingly likable.

In season two of Undercover, his appearance is fleeting, though the series still packs a punch without his presence in the main cast. This time, the bulk of the story takes place at a countryside ranch in the West Flanders region of Belgium, where two arms trader brothers become the next targets. Theirs is an equally challenging network to infiltrate: Bob, whose Antwerp accent immediately flags him as an outsider, struggles to connect with one of the brothers, Laurent Berger (Wim Willaert), a cowboy-hat-wearing, equestrian aficionado.

The way characters speak and the places they come from influence how they relate to one another. Though it might not be obvious to foreign audiences, Ferry, who is Dutch, sounds nothing like Bob, who is from the Flemish part of Belgium. In turn, Bob sounds nothing like Laurent in the way that a Scottish accent bears no resemblance to, say, a Texas accent. Throughout the series, the characters' unique choice of words and mannerisms, which stem from regional cultural differences, add a layer of depth and tension to the plot that unfortunately doesn’t come across in the subtitles.

But that’s a small qualm for an otherwise unconventional and endearingly addictive story.