Reviews

Movie Review - Funny Games

Usually I try to avoid reading reviews of movies that I haven’t seen, as critics tend to give away too much plot and generally instill expectations in me that mess with my perceptions of a film while I’m watching it for the first time. I exercised even greater caution than usual with Michael Haneke’s new remake of his 1997 film Funny Games - when advance word started suggesting that this was one of the most disturbing and shocking films to roll down the pike in years, I went into complete media blackout mode. Now, having seen the film in question, I suggest that you do the same, which puts me in the awkward position of asking you not to read what I am currently writing. This is simply the first of many paradoxes that arise when discussing Haneke’s picture.

Naomi Watts and Tim Roth star as an affluent married couple vacationing with their young son at a beautiful lake house; the three protagonists arrive at this seasonal paradise and haven’t even unpacked their bags yet when they find themselves in an alarming hostage situation. That is about as bare-bones as I can get about the plot, and I hesitate to say anything else, because the shock of discovery is what really fuels Funny Games. The plot, though, is largely secondary to a larger point that Haneke is making with the film, and that we can surely discuss without any deal-breaking spoilers. I haven’t seen the original version of Funny Games, but apparently Haneke’s remake is virtually a shot-for-shot recreation. The natural question is, why would such an obviously gifted filmmaker not only go back to the same well twice but pull in a bucket filled with precisely the same contents? And the answer is, Americans are too lazy to watch movies with sub-titles, and Americans need this movie.

I’m not suggesting that Funny Games is going to make Hostel money, and there are two reasons for this: 1) The release strategy, thus far, has been rather more muted than what usually accompanies garden-variety torture porn, and 2) This isn’t really torture porn. It’s a movie about torture porn, and what that particular genre of filmmaking suggests about American audiences, and why we should all feel extremely guilty about enjoying said “entertainment.” Haneke, for all his deft manipulations and the suspense that they thrillingly generate, never settles for a pinprick when a gaping wound is possible, and there are moments in the film when the lack of subtlety will probably become a concern for discerning viewers - in particular, one character has a habit of breaking the fourth wall and directly addressing the audience at moments when the only possible outcome of such a manuever is to break the tension that Haneke has so expertly created. But please don’t mistake that for a failing; at any given moment when the viewer is so caught up in Funny Games that there is a potential to forget the lesson he’s being taught, the film ceases to work as the treatise on cinematic violence that Haneke has intended. In other words, if you’re enjoying yourself, you’re missing the point.

The genius of the picture is that it’s nearly impossible not to enjoy yourself for long stretches; the film is carefully constructed to induce the kind of horrified thrall that all great works of psychological terror make their ultimate aim. What raises the material a cut above are the very didactic tactics that Haneke employs to ruin that sense of immersion; the entire enterprise is, regarding entertainment value, wholly counter-intuitive. But, again, this isn’t the kind of movie that we usually see in America, and attempts at subtlety would probably be wasted on the great majority of viewers. Which isn’t a slam on anyone, necessarily, but a pretty basic observation about mainstream cinema - we’ve grown accustomed to movies that spoon-feed us the important stuff. Haneke purposefully works within this idiom, so that even the most casual movie fan stumbling across the material will have no choice but to confront certain notions about pain, cruelty, and the way that we tend to relish the unimaginably gruesome over hot buttered popcorn. The film is deliberately constructed so that you can’t ignore its message, and if some people want to dock points for applying the idealogical sledgehammer so liberally - so be it. This isn’t a movie for everyone, and it’s probably one that even its greatest admirers won’t wish to see again.

I don’t even know if I can call this a “great” film, despite the uniform high quality of the performances and technical aspects. It’s certainly an amazing achievement, and I recommend that everyone (but especially fans of gutbucket horror cinema) seek it out for a decidedly more interesting experience than one usually encounters at the local Jumboplex. But as far as it’s place in the pantheon of masterpiece cinema - that’s probably not a concern that we should spend too much time pondering. The movie makes its point, brutally and effectively, without ever being exploitative or even particularly graphic, and by it’s own measures it is indisputably a success. What you discover about yourself and the people surrounding you in the theater is more to the point than anything that actually happens on screen - Funny Games, as it wears on and grows ever bleaker, becomes an audience litmus test that amazingly retains every ounce of the visceral excitement that you paid your nine dollars for.

As the movie ends, pay particular attention to the people who begin leaving their seats before the final image fades; they’re already trying to forget something that will stay seared into their minds for as long as they look for gruesome kicks at the movie house.

© 2008 Strong Words INC.