Haneke's take on post-apocalypse
On a friend's recommendation, I've been watching a few of Michael Haneke's films lately. I watched the original Funny Games a few months ago; a couple of weeks ago I saw The Piano Teacher. I found Funny Games to be well-done but ultimately not gripping. It seemed like a fine deconstruction of violence in film, but it was disengaging. I wonder if it was more impactful when first made; desensitized movie violence is hardly the only kind these now. Ironic, self-aware violence in film that offers a critique of violence in film yet sells itself through the same is almost commonplace now, though it could be traced back as far as Day of the Woman, a way more disturbing film than Funny Games. Day of the Woman is fairly damning in implicating the male viewer, but it was hacked up by producers and shown (mainly under the title I Spit on Your Grave) as a B-movie exploitation flick. Which makes me wonder ... what really is the line between deconstruction, self-aware participation in the tropes of a genre, and exploitation? What Funny Games has going for it is that it would be next to impossible to watch "for enjoyment," mindlessly. But it achieves this, or did for me, in any case, at the expense of emotional impact.
Of The Piano Teacher, I can say little right now. It is an excellent, devastatingly sad film.
Just today, I finally finished watching Time of the Wolf. I found it almost unwatchable. I'm starting to think it was an excellent film, as well.
Time of the Wolf succeeded for me where Funny Games failed; maybe it's just that I'm the target audience for Time of the Wolf. Of course, it's pretty obvious that Haneke intended Funny Games to be a deconstruction of or critical reflection upon a certain culture of violence in film; it's hard to watch it and think of much else. I'm not sure that Haneke intended to deconstruct the post-apocalyptic film / narrative structure with Time of the Wolf though certainly he intended to turn the focus (quite literally as well as metaphorically) elsewhere.
What is it about this film that is so striking and awful, in several senses of that word? It took me three sittings to get through it. Twice I got stuck in the first hour. The third time, I decided to pick up in the middle from where I stopped watching the first time, and could only make it through by having my computer nearby as a distraction, which makes it hard when you're reading subtitles.
I would say that this film is everything most post-apocalyptic films aren't. No dramatic music. A lot of the focus is on family / emotional dynamics. There's a reasonable, liberal, ineffectual father who's quickly out of the picture and an anxious mother. The emotional center of the film is their daughter, a girl (of 11, maybe) who sort of holds things together, but doesn't lead anything or do anything heroic. Then there's the son, who is mute and inert for most of the film. So the gender constructions are opposite from your normal post-apocalyptic film, which features an emotionally shut-down yet powerful male (Mad Max) or a tough-as-nails, tom-boyish female with basically the exact same constitution (Sarah Connor, Starbuck, Ripley). No quests or heroism here; just low level political bickering in a small, informal gathering of people where nobody looks particularly good.
Come to think of it, there is an emotionally shut-down yet self-sufficient character in this film, a boy (of 13, maybe?) referred to as "boy." His selfishness and emotional dysfunction, rather than his self-sufficiency, are the center of the film's interest in him, and he is far from the center. Though he is a focus of intense interest for the girl, he disappears for a long stretch, only to come back at the end in a show of futility.
So for me I guess this movie does function as a deconstruction of the post-apocalyptic genre, and perhaps it restores some of the emotional impact that societal breakdown ought to have (or really does have, below the line of fantasy). I suspect that this is why the movie was actually hard to watch as opposed to merely boring, or something. Perhaps this movie was dull, slow, and listless for stretches, but I felt uncomfortable rather than bored, and that discomfort broke down to some extent the fact that "I kept waiting for something to happen," i.e. for the fantastic events of post-apocalyptic film: an attack of semi-human hordes to resist, a quest to undertake. I began to wonder what I was waiting for and why I was waiting for anything other than what was happening. (They're going to beat up that immigrant, aren't they. It has gotten that bad, hasn't it.)
I don't think I will be able to watch post-apocalyptic movies in quite the same way again.
I can't really think of anything quite comparable. Ever Since the World Ended had a similarly de-mythologized view of the post apocalypse, but I don't think that film knew what it wanted to say or even what it wanted to explore. Jeremiah sometimes explored the warts of local post-apocalyptic sociality (small-time leaders with power complexes, merging dynamics of pre-apocalyptic racism and post-apocalyptic communitarianism) in some interesting ways parallel to what Haneke does with this community, but Jeremiah lacks any comparable emotional range or exploration for the main characters and settled into both resisting-the-hordes and holy-quest narratives at points.
When I think back about my spring break this year, I suspect I will think about taking three tries to watch Time of the Wolf. It is a fairly good marker for this stretch of time: waiting for something to happen, but nothing is going to happen except what was already happening, which is troubling and real enough that it ought to have my attention. Fantasy rendered into pitiful ghastliness.
Of The Piano Teacher, I can say little right now. It is an excellent, devastatingly sad film.
Just today, I finally finished watching Time of the Wolf. I found it almost unwatchable. I'm starting to think it was an excellent film, as well.
Time of the Wolf succeeded for me where Funny Games failed; maybe it's just that I'm the target audience for Time of the Wolf. Of course, it's pretty obvious that Haneke intended Funny Games to be a deconstruction of or critical reflection upon a certain culture of violence in film; it's hard to watch it and think of much else. I'm not sure that Haneke intended to deconstruct the post-apocalyptic film / narrative structure with Time of the Wolf though certainly he intended to turn the focus (quite literally as well as metaphorically) elsewhere.
What is it about this film that is so striking and awful, in several senses of that word? It took me three sittings to get through it. Twice I got stuck in the first hour. The third time, I decided to pick up in the middle from where I stopped watching the first time, and could only make it through by having my computer nearby as a distraction, which makes it hard when you're reading subtitles.
I would say that this film is everything most post-apocalyptic films aren't. No dramatic music. A lot of the focus is on family / emotional dynamics. There's a reasonable, liberal, ineffectual father who's quickly out of the picture and an anxious mother. The emotional center of the film is their daughter, a girl (of 11, maybe) who sort of holds things together, but doesn't lead anything or do anything heroic. Then there's the son, who is mute and inert for most of the film. So the gender constructions are opposite from your normal post-apocalyptic film, which features an emotionally shut-down yet powerful male (Mad Max) or a tough-as-nails, tom-boyish female with basically the exact same constitution (Sarah Connor, Starbuck, Ripley). No quests or heroism here; just low level political bickering in a small, informal gathering of people where nobody looks particularly good.
Come to think of it, there is an emotionally shut-down yet self-sufficient character in this film, a boy (of 13, maybe?) referred to as "boy." His selfishness and emotional dysfunction, rather than his self-sufficiency, are the center of the film's interest in him, and he is far from the center. Though he is a focus of intense interest for the girl, he disappears for a long stretch, only to come back at the end in a show of futility.
So for me I guess this movie does function as a deconstruction of the post-apocalyptic genre, and perhaps it restores some of the emotional impact that societal breakdown ought to have (or really does have, below the line of fantasy). I suspect that this is why the movie was actually hard to watch as opposed to merely boring, or something. Perhaps this movie was dull, slow, and listless for stretches, but I felt uncomfortable rather than bored, and that discomfort broke down to some extent the fact that "I kept waiting for something to happen," i.e. for the fantastic events of post-apocalyptic film: an attack of semi-human hordes to resist, a quest to undertake. I began to wonder what I was waiting for and why I was waiting for anything other than what was happening. (They're going to beat up that immigrant, aren't they. It has gotten that bad, hasn't it.)
I don't think I will be able to watch post-apocalyptic movies in quite the same way again.
I can't really think of anything quite comparable. Ever Since the World Ended had a similarly de-mythologized view of the post apocalypse, but I don't think that film knew what it wanted to say or even what it wanted to explore. Jeremiah sometimes explored the warts of local post-apocalyptic sociality (small-time leaders with power complexes, merging dynamics of pre-apocalyptic racism and post-apocalyptic communitarianism) in some interesting ways parallel to what Haneke does with this community, but Jeremiah lacks any comparable emotional range or exploration for the main characters and settled into both resisting-the-hordes and holy-quest narratives at points.
When I think back about my spring break this year, I suspect I will think about taking three tries to watch Time of the Wolf. It is a fairly good marker for this stretch of time: waiting for something to happen, but nothing is going to happen except what was already happening, which is troubling and real enough that it ought to have my attention. Fantasy rendered into pitiful ghastliness.