Review #1,474: 'Amour' (2012)

Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke has been provoking - often outright antagonising - his audiences for decades, from the home invasion horror of Funny Games, to the ugly suburban murder of Benny's Video, to the bleak, post-apocalyptic vision of the future from Time of the Wolf. His 2012 effort, Amour, winner of the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, is his most compassionate film to date, although Haneke's compassion still feels like a sledgehammer to the chest and a knife to the heart. The title, which translates as 'love' from French, is about precisely that, but this is not the syrupy, sentimental love we're used to from cinema, but the kind experienced by any couples lucky enough to have enjoyed a long-lasting relationship into old age.

The couple are retired music teachers Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Emmanuelle Riva), who both enjoy a comfortable bourgeois lifestyle in Paris. We are introduced to this grey-haired pair as they attend the concert of Alexandre (Alexandre Tharaud), one of Anne's former star pupils, and their subsequent car journey home. This is the only glimpse we are allowed of their everyday life, as once they arrive home to discover that someone has attempted to break in, we never leave the building again. The next morning, as they sit down to breakfast, Anne becomes unresponsive, gazing blankly into space as Georges tries to snap her out of it. Before the old man can get help, she is back to normal, completely unaware of this momentary void. Anne has suffered a stroke, and after an operation on her blocked carotid artery goes wrong, she is left wheelchair-bound and paralysed down one side.

In anybody else's hands, this could be a story of overcoming hopelessness and helplessness, and of a couple undeterred in the face of looming death. But Haneke isn't interesting in sentiment, and opts instead to observe the loving couple as Anne deteriorates further, pleading for an end to the pain and humiliation after a second stroke, while Georges cares for her as best as he can. Anne makes her husband promise never to take her back to the hospital, so their apartment becomes a tomb where any visitor is an unwelcome intrusion. Their daughter Eva (Isabelle Huppert) makes the occasional visit from London, where she lives with her British husband Geoff (William Shimell), to offer help, but she doesn't understand the emptiness of her offer. She isn't there for the diaper changes, the periods when Anne can do nothing but moan in pain, and Georges' struggle to move her whenever she needs to visit the bathroom.

It's tough, gruelling stuff, but it's heartbreaking in a way that anybody in a loving relationship can relate to. It's something we simultaneously hope to reach and ultimately dread, and there's a real unflinching honesty in the way Georges and Anne react to their new predicament. The idea that old age eventually catches up to everybody is hammered home by the casting of Trintignant and Riva, who have naturally grown into their 80s and are barely recognisable from their glamorous 60's heyday. However, Amour is not an exercise in misery. Haneke handles these characters with incredible delicacy, hinting at an unshakeable bond that, despite a few wobbles down the years, has only strengthened with time and has long since evolved into something greater than the word love can truly express. Amour certainly puts you through the ringer, but you'll likely emerge with a greater appreciation for your loved one.


Directed by: Michael Haneke
Starring: Jean-Louis Trintignant, Emmanuelle Riva, Isabelle Huppert, Alexandre Tharaud, William Shimell
Country: Austria/France/Germany

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,156: 'Downfall' (2004)

While there may be a multitude of movies produced in Europe and America depicting the atrocities of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich - both to dramatic and deliberately comical effect - Germany itself is notoriously apprehensive when facing its dark, and very recent, history. Based on accounts from historians and witnesses, including Andre Heller and Othmar Schmiderer's documentary Blind Spot: Hitler's Secretary (from which scenes are used to book-end the film), Oliver Hirschbiegel's Der Untergang, or Downfall, is one of the best movies ever made about Hitler. Rather than investigating how the war veteran and struggling artist became the egotistical tyrant he is remembered as being, Downfall focuses on his final days holed up in a bunker as the war comes to a bloody end around him.

It's a testament to Bruno Ganz's performance that Hitler remains the enigmatic figure seen in Leni Riefenstahl's documentaries, even though he is descending into madness and is clearly in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. As the Russian army closes in on Berlin and the shell blasts increase in volume through the walls, Hitler and his cabinet are faced with the crippling realisation that their vision of global ethnic cleansing and forming a Germanic empire has failed spectacularly. Often hushed, cunning and inspirational to the men who still adore him, the Fuhrer is also prone to outrageous demands and formidable tantrums. He is a paradoxical cluster, damning his people to death by demanding they still resist an enemy that has already defeated them, yet Ganz still finds humanity in there. Between scolding the Jewish race and sending units into certain death, he mourns the death of his beloved dog Blondi and forms a tender relationship with Eva Braun (Juliane Kohler). He is humanised, but never sympathetic.

Yet Downfall is not simply a document of Hitler's final days; it is much more about Germany as a whole, and how the country fell into chaos as the Reich was toppled. We gain access into the bunker through Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara), Hitler's secretary for many years. Out in the increasingly perilous streets of Berlin, Professor Schenck (Christian Berkel) does all he can to help the weak and injured while Hitler Youth assassinate old men fleeing the bombing. Many of the cabinet, including Albert Speer (Heino Ferch) and Hermann Fegelein (Thomas Kretschmann), are desperate to flee and urge their Fuhrer to do the same, while contradicting his orders in the hope of salvaging some sort of peace. Despite the scope of the story, you'll never hear Downfall being referred to as an ensemble piece or a war epic, as it retains a sense of intimacy throughout thanks to Rainer Klaussman's grainy, claustrophobic cinematography, with even the wide-open streets of Berlin feeling oddly suffocating. It's a brave, bold movie, and one that goes about its business with focus and a stern grip on the complex unfolding of events.


Directed by: Oliver Hirschbiegel
Starring: Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Ulrich Matthes, Juliane Köhler, Christian Berkel, Heino Ferch, Thomas Kretschmann
Country: Germany/Austria/Italy

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #544: 'Time of the Wolf' (2003)

If, at the start of Time of the Wolf, you are aware of Michael Haneke's 1997 shocker, Funny Games, you may believe that this film will be treading similar grounds. Opening the film, the 2 point 4 children Laurent family arrive at their holiday shack in the wilderness of an undisclosed location. On entering, they are confronted with a man holding a shotgun towards them (his own family peering from behind him). After demanding that they hand over any goods they have, he shoots the father (Daniel Duval) dead. However, unlike the familial hostages of Funny Games, the remaining Laurent's make their way to a local for help, and the audience is startled by the matriarch, Anne's (Isabelle Huppert), admission that they had buried the father. We are certainly not in the regular world; this place is different, a point that is further exacerbated when Anne is asked if she is aware of what is going on.

Time of the Wolf is unfamiliar territory concerning its central concept of a post-apocalyptic landscape. Whilst the catalyst for this disaster (?) is never revealed, there is no indication of the generic science fiction tropes of disaster. No zombie/alien, or natural catastrophe's are highlighted. The ambiguity of the nature of the devastation creates a tension that is completely absent from the ordinary, explicit films of this nature. As the family trudge their way through the countryside, they cross the distinct furnaces of bonfires, sometimes the only light source in the darkness - at one time the legs of burning cow carcasses protrude from a fire. Their final stop, a building inhabited by "survivors" waiting for a train that may never arrive.

Perhaps Time of the Wolf states more about the consumer society we live in today. The shackles of consumption, and the artefacts of the modern world become useless in this context. Jewels and watches are pointless commodities, whilst lighters, water and clothing are worthy of exchange. Maybe the apocalypse is the result of dwindling resources, a reality that Earth will have to face in the future (perhaps the near), where agriculture, manufacture and natural fuel have all but disappeared. With this lack of resources, comes the desperation of the people, bringing out the worst in humanity. The strong male figures take control, whilst women are often reduced to trading in sex, and are largely marginalised in the fold. Our natural affinity as pack animals falls apart, and xenophobia erupts, targeting anything that might break the monotony and fraught situation.

With a distilled colour pallet, often only lit with fire, and the bleak wilderness of fog, Haneke creates a realistic world, heaving with pain and anxiety. His precise camera movements and compositions frame the disaster as beauty. Time of the Wolf would probably not suit the regular sci-fi frequenter of post-apocalypse, it does not present itself with the same signifiers and does not portray the Hollywood hero or saviour, and it absolutely does not offer the resolution that most would need to be satisfied with. This is the hopelessness of humanity in all of its desperation, with the modern luxuries obliterated, and reduced by the lack of necessities. But with this bleakness comes horror, and the complexities of humanity. It is a hard view, but one that rewards in aesthetics, and the confluence of characters.


Directed by: Michael Haneke
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Béatrice Dalle, Patrice Chéreau
Country: France/Austria/Germany

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy

Review #288: 'The Seventh Continent' (1989)

A middle-class family, consisting of father Georg (Dieter Berner), mother Anna (Birgit Doll), and young daughter Evi (Leni Tanzer) live out their routine daily lives in apparent discomfort. The film is split into three sections - 1987, 1988, and 1989. The first two years, we are given an insight into their thinking as Anna narrates letters written to her parents. We witness the mundaneness of their lives in scenes showing them eating breakfast, at work, going through a car wash, driving in their car. They are trapped by their repetitive surroundings in an unavoidable consumerist world. The third section sees the parents quitting their jobs, buying power tools, and emptying their bank accounts. They tell people they're going to Australia, only they plan to destroy their home and kill themselves.

Haneke is the master of the cold and the uncomfortable. This was his debut feature, only he seemed to have already mastered this skill. In his later films, we witness brutal animal slaughter in Benny's Video (1992), genital mutilation in The Piano Teacher (2001), and possibly the most shocking suicide ever depicted on film in his masterpiece Hidden (2005). In The Seventh Continent, we know what is coming. It is laid out quite early in the film. When it comes, it is every bit as unpleasant as you would hope it wouldn't be. Haneke doesn't need blood or dramatic music. Instead he just lets us hear the last gargled breaths, taking place off-camera, of someone taken an overdose of pills. Powerful, terrible and profoundly disturbing.

Haneke, in my opinion, is the world's greatest living director. Granted, the likes of Godard and Herzog are still making films, but their heyday was in the 1960's and 70's respectively. Haneke is in his prime, and their is no-one making more skilful films. He based The Seventh Continent on a newspaper article he read about a family that committed suicide in a similar fashion (as we learn over the end credits), and uses it as a commentary on a world obsessed with formality. This is certainly not an enjoyable film, but it is one that will linger with me for a long time, which is similar to the effect Hidden had on me. It will occasionally test your patience (scenes are repeated and their are long periods without dialogue), but its power is undeniable. An assured debut.


Directed by: Michael Haneke
Starring: Birgit Doll, Dieter Berner, Leni Tanzer
Country: Austria

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

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

Review #153: 'Lourdes' (2009)

Christine (Sylvie Testud) is wheelchair-bound, and is suffering from multiple sclerosis. She travels to the pilgrimage site of Lourdes in the Pyrenees Mountains to both escape from her isolation, and seek some kind of answers to her situation. Compared to the other pilgrims, Christine has little faith in God. Yet while she's there, she miraculously gains controls of her limbs and she rises from her wheelchair. The church are quick to jump on it as a 'miracle', but seek medical advice in order to confirm this.

The film never takes a stance in regards to its attitude to either religion or spirituality, to the point where the 'miracle' that takes place takes a backseat. This is a film that is more concerned with its characters' plight, and how the people around Christine react to the possible miracle that they witness. It does, if anything, portray the Catholic faith in a positive light. The priest seeks all the medical advice he can get before he will believe it as a miracle, and the helpers at Lourdes (minus one rather self-involved girl) are shown to have genuine love for the work they do, and its importance. But it does also show the slightly ridiculous side, as the Church will only recognise it as an 'official' miracle if it ticks certain boxes.

it does not linger on the idea of faith, as previously stated, but instead how it corrupts, bewilders, and enchants the people around Christine. Some of the pilgrims talk bitterly between themselves and doubt her sincerity, to the point where they begin to dismiss the idea of miracles, which is the very thing that they went to Lourdes to experience. One of the male helpers initially shows an interest in Christine, glancing and smiling at her every now and then. Yet when she begins to walk again, he seems to almost completely fall for her, much to the jealousy of one of the female workers. It's a startling commentary on how humanity can be corrupted and influenced by the idea of religion.

Lourdes is a quiet, gentle and ponderous portrayal of a woman desperately seeking an answer to her illness and finding it in the last place she would expect. It doesn't force its ideas down your throat, but instead it lets it flow across the small interactions and expressions of its characters. The pace may sometimes come to a standstill, but this is a richly rewarding experience from one of Austria's most exciting new directors.


Directed by: Jessica Hausner
Starring: Sylvie Testud, Léa Seydoux, Gilette Barbier
Country: Austria/France/Germany

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie