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| Funny Games * * * * |
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| Written by Ivan Radford |
| Friday, 04 April 2008 00:00 |
![]() Director: Michael HanekeDesensitized and over-saturated by trashy torture porn and an exploitative media, it’s hard to be genuinely shocked by on screen violence. But Michael Haneke, the master of audience manipulation, is determined to have a go, porting his 1997 smug lecture on violence and voyeurism overseas, verbatim. The argument is that the film was a message to Hollywood, but they never got it, so he’s translated this portentous piece out of Austria and into America. Lucky them. The film shows us what happens when a sadistic pair of teens – let’s call them Peter (Corbett) and Paul (Pitt) – show up on an upper-middle class family’s doorstep and brutally torture them for 12 hours. Wielding golf clubs and duct tape, they bash the dad (Roth), strip the mum (Watts) and bag the kid. They even kill the dog. All of this, naturally, takes place off screen. In the process, eggs get broken and ruin the carpet. “What a travesty!” we cry, onlookers to such unspeakable cruelty; as our hostile protagonists turn and wink, implicating us in what we witness, the whole thing verges towards dreadfully dark comedy. Funny Games is satire in its most pretentious form, chastising us for wanting to see, even enjoying the treatment of this family. Distanced by its meta-cinematic screenplay, it’s hard to engage with any of the characters. Instead, Haneke forces us to sit back and admire his insightful playfulness as he frustrates our need for a conventional narrative. Sound like a fun night out? Well, whatever the director's intentions, the deadpan delivery of our psychopaths’ dialogue undermines (or enhances, depending on your view) his attempt at an uncomfortable thriller. The result is a bizarrely entertaining experience. As a crippled Tim Roth sits there with a hairdryer, it’s hard not to laugh. Should you feel guilty for that? Does it really matter? A sarcastic play upon audience expectations, this self-righteous and self-aware film is certainly provocative. By the time shotguns come into the mix, you may want to hit the rewind button. When it comes down to it, though, you don’t really get a choice in the matter. VERDICT A self-reflexive analysis of the horror genre? Wes Craven brought Scream to American audiences with great success. Haneke’s two cents provide an enjoyably conceited concept, but it was perhaps more pertinent ten years ago. Unnecessary? Maybe. Well made? Definitely. |
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