Review #166: 'The White Ribbon' (2009)

The story of The White Ribbon is narrated by The School Teacher (Ernst Jacobi) of the village many years after the events took place. He states in the opening moments of the film, that much of the story is based on hearsay and speculation. He even concludes; "a lot of it remains obscure to me even today." Set in a small Protestant village to the north of Germany, in the year building up to the First World War, a series of mysterious events, accidents, and seeming torture, occur that begin with the local doctor (Rainer Bock) being throw off the back of a horse in suspicious circumstances. The occurrences escalate through the village, bringing with it accusations, and divide, in an already hierarchically structured "society".

The tension builds throughout this masterfully structured narrative, with confidence of pace, and some beautifully composed black and white cinematography, by long time Haneke collaborator, Christian Berger. Haneke is a film maker at the top of his game. The intricate relationships throughout the village, the power struggles, and authoritarian menace, is perfectly acted by a strong cast.

It's no crime to reveal that nothing is resolved in the film. But, like in life, other more terrible events happen outside of the surroundings you dwell in, beyond your usual environment (the people for example), that evaporate the issue from memory. And, like history, we can read this as a fable about authoritarianism, and it's effects on the people around it. As allegory of war, it shows the utter contempt for humanity is lost in those who have been victim to this dictatorial rein of fear. In this village, we are only exposed to the corporal punishment that is dealt on a daily basis, to the children of the village. Part drama, part suspense-mystery, utter beauty; climbing close to that difficult to reach, perfection.


Directed by: Michael Haneke
Starring: Christian Friedel, Ulrich Tukur, Josef Bierbichler
Country: Germany/Austria/France/Italy

Rating: *****

Marc Ivamy