One of the things I want to do with the blog is take a closer look at why we (the viewing audience/fan culture) hold certain things sacred. These things range from characters, gore, actors, genres, to entire films themselves. These sacred cows of cinema seem to exist unquestioned, or at the very least, undiscussed. Film nerds get incredibly defensive over "their" movies, as if examining them too closely might shatter the allure they've developed over time. In some cases this may be true. Not everything holds up to scrutiny, but that's why I find the prospect of reexamining cult culture so appealing. What's better than new perspective?
For this first entry, I want to look at a movie that stayed on my mind for a few days after I viewed it. Michael Haneke's Funny Games is a film that fits into both of the things I'm interested in exploring in this column. It exists as both a cult classic and a film that questions our expectations as a viewing audience. It is a film that crawls up under the viewer's skin and settles down for the night. Effective not just because of the images (or lack thereof) that it shows us, but because of the way it engages the viewer to question why he or she is watching the movie in the first place.
The film (I'm speaking specifically about the 1997 original movie, though the English remake is practically shot for shot, so pick your poison) opens in the standard horror/thriller mode with a rather quaint yet affluent looking family arriving at their lake house for a relaxing vacation when they start being pestered by two strange boys who pose as their neighbors' nephews. Of course, we, the educated viewing audience, know that these young men can be nothing but trouble. And we are right. What the viewer doesn't anticipate is the subtle cruelty that young men lay on the suffering family. Being simultaneously polite and aggressive, the two men (whose names we never actually discover) manipulate the family into participating in a string of "games" that push the family, and the viewer, to the brink.
I'm going to try to keep these columns fairly spoiler free, because if you haven't seen the films I'm writing about, I don't want to deter you from doing so because I ruin them for you. That being said, expect some fairly detailed discussion about techniques or themes that make the film work, because this is a criticism website after all. For Funny Games there are three important factors that Haneke utilizes to create the atmosphere and effectiveness of this film: attitude, depicted violence, and breaking the fourth wall. Attitude refers to both the demeanor of the killers as well as the camera work. As stated earlier, the two killers are exceedingly polite throughout the course of the film, automatically challenging the viewer's expectations of what a screen killer typically should be. There are no snarls or one liners or even any real yelling at the victims, just cool calm conversations that generally end tragically. While the demeanor of the young men doesn't necessarily make the viewer like them, it does play on the idea that the audience for horror movies tends to root for the killer. No one goes to a Nightmare on Elm Street movie to see Freddy Krueger defeated by random teenagers, they want bloody dream killing. Michael Haneke seems to have issue with that mentality, and by having his killers be more "reasonable" and "calm" than his victims, he appeals, rather uncomfortably, with the viewer's approval of screen killers.
The camera mimics this notion too. Instead of quick cuts of gore and violence, the most violent scenes stay off screen, while the camera lingers on the grisly aftermath to the point of intense unease. The detached attitude of the camera, caring neither about the victims or the audience, plays on the viewer's own lack of interest in seeing the victims live. After all that's why we saw the movie right? To see people be murdered, right? As a self professed gore-hound, one of the reasons I love horror movies so much is for the gore. I can't even count the movies I've noted would have been better if they'd have been gorier. But gore acts as a sort of comfort. When some gets their head blown off or disemboweled, it's usually so foreign and over the top that, even in the most serious films, it can be laughable. By relying on the tension of the situation, and then rendering the violence off camera, it suddenly becomes more dreadful without the gory release. The only scene of actual depicted gory violence happens suddenly, surprising the viewer, the killers, and even, as it seems, the camera. It is delightful in its tension breaking, but it doesn't last long. The scene is immediately corrected, bringing me to the oddest, and most important factor in the film: breaking the fourth wall.
It seems strange that a film so predicated on reality should suddenly go meta and address the viewer point blank, but it does, and when Killer #1 suddenly turns to the audience and asks, "have you had enough?" it is jarring. But it's also telling, and almost too much so. Does the audience really need Michael Haneke's voice chastising them for watching? I don't know, but it does play into the kind of movie Haneke is making, even if the few times the fourth wall breaks seem wildly out of place. The audience recognition works to both take the viewer out of the movie and therefore relieve some tension, but also realize that the film is very aware of how disturbing it is. Once again, Haneke asks spitefully, "this is what you wanted, right?"And by the time the killers have moved on to the next house and Killer #1 winks knowingly at the camera, the viewer asks his or her self the same question.
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