‘Funny Games’ – Michael Haneke
In 2007, Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke released a shot-for-shot remake of his own film, Funny Games, only this time he used an English-speaking cast. He stated that his decision stemmed from his desire to get the film’s message across to Hollywood audiences, whom he believed needed to hear it most. The topic of which version is better has been debated for years, with each film possessing its own individual merits, despite their similarities. However, 1997’s Funny Games is where it all began, with Haneke providing audiences with a complex meta-analysis of the relationship between on-screen violence and the audience.
Haneke teases the film’s preoccupation with subversion from the very opening sequence. We are introduced to the perfect-looking Schober family (Anna, Georg and their son, Georgie) driving towards their holiday house, listening to opera music. However, Georg quickly switches the radio to play Naked City’s abrasive jazz cacophony ‘Bonehead’, alluding to the film’s eventual drive towards chaos.
Carefully, Haneke crafts every aspect of his movie to subtly yet impactfully dig beneath the surface of social conventions and stereotypes. Subsequently, the audience is forced to question everything, such as the social myths we are conditioned to believe. Haneke presents us with two young men wearing all-white outfits, Peter and Paul. They are polite, well-groomed, and familiar with the neighbours. Essentially, they don’t fit society’s preconceived notions of criminality. Thus, Anna welcomes the men into her house when they ask to borrow eggs, unaware that she has just opened the door for two men set on destroying her family’s lives, all for a bit of fun.
For the duration of the film, Peter and Paul ruthlessly torment the family, holding them hostage in their own house. Haneke keeps the tension irresistibly high, playing with the audience’s expectations by subverting many Hollywood norms. Surely the young child won’t be brutally murdered in front of the parents? The killers can’t possibly get away with their actions, right? If Funny Games came from a Hollywood studio, then it would likely contain themes of redemption and vindication. But Haneke refused to give into the demands of mainstream audiences, resulting in a film that is amazingly horrifying.
The brilliance of Funny Games lies in its gloriously meta nature. Techniques such as the breaking of the fourth wall allow the audiences to feel complicit in the movie’s events yet unable to do anything about them. In one early scene, Paul sends Anna on a cruel search for the family’s missing dog, only to turn round and wink at the audience. Later on, he asks the audience whether we think the family will survive their violent games, saying, “What do you think? You think they stand a chance? You’re on their side, aren’t you?”
At one point, when Anna attempts to shoot Paul, he picks up the television remote and hits rewind, which causes the action to undo itself. We see the scene play backwards, and this manipulation of the form draws the audience further into the movie’s artificiality.
These are twisted sequences, helping Haneke to satirise Hollywood thrillers that revel in the suffering of the characters. He dissects the violence on screen, forcing audiences to question the ethics of such constant on-screen brutality. Darkly comic and cleverly written, Haneke’s sadistic exercise is a thrilling watch from start to finish, partly down to the director’s phenomenal screenplay.
However, the film is also incredibly well-acted, with Arno Frisch, who previously starred in Haneke’s Benny’s Video, portraying Paul with the perfect balance of charm and terrifying coldness. He leads the film with his incessant teasing and torturing, despite his friendly appearance.
Funny Games is a confrontational film which will undoubtedly shock anyone that watches it, even those highly desensitised to violence. Haneke’s unpredictable and subversive masterpiece encapsulated an era proliferated by on-screen and real-life violence. In a world full of exploitative and spectacle-laden movies, Haneke invites us to question exactly what we’re consuming.
