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Yazarın fotoğrafıNihan Ulutan

Twenty-Four Frames of Restlessness: Michael Haneke


The magic of cinema transports viewers to unfamiliar places. It alters their perspectives on life or, at the very least, sharpens them; it shows them new paths and unexpected vibrancy. The pure entertainment of this world only holds value when it is not elevated to the status of a universal dogma, threatening to replace everything else. Cinema is a challenge to itself and its audience. As Michael Haneke puts it: It is about rescuing the audience from their indifference...


This means; breaking all the rules. The cinematic, narrative, technical, intellectual, and emotional rules. Let's consider the children of Das Weiße Band - Eine deutsche Kindergeschichte (The White Ribbon - A German Children's Story - 2009). On the eve of World War I, we witness not only a village community poisoned by jealousy, resentment, and disdain amidst a backdrop of mysterious violence; but also the cruelty catalyzed by an authoritarian, dehumanized upbringing that leads to the loss of individual identity.






In terms of both internal and external perception of Austrian cinema, I wonder if there is any other director with as lasting an impact as Haneke. His range is broader than one might think; it spans from the icy tenderness of the Oscar-winning *Amour to the black-and-white exploration of nascent Nazi ideology in Das Weiße Band and its fragmented vignettes. None of these films take place in Austria; a meaningful irony...


Haneke stands in the midst of this despicable world, which feels abstractly like our own despite the temporal distance. His other side is not succumbing to either sentimentality or misery. This is his claim to depict the truth. He consistently avoids one-sidedness. In his cinema, where reality intensifies in his own style, he turns away from the graphic, physical depiction of violence as if it were a disease to be warded off. For him, making violence a consumable form of enticing entertainment is irresponsible.


La pianiste (2001)


Adapted from Elfriede Jelinek's novel, the film is incredibly intense. Haneke draws a kind of parallel between musical expression and the feeling of love. Erika (Isabelle Huppert) is a piano teacher who lives with her mother in a dependent, sado-masochistic relationship. Walter (Benoît Magimel) is one of her young students; brilliant and seductive. The character, portrayed magnificently by Huppert, is torn by extremes; on one hand, a cold and icy intellectualism, on the other, an extreme sensitivity coupled with an absolute need that drives her to seek perfection. By the film’s end, Erika invites us to a chilling conclusion.





Le Temps du loup (The Time of the Wolf - 2003)


Anyone who watches a Haneke film immediately recognizes his style. His camera always adopts a very typical approach to filming his subjects, resulting in an unsettling atmosphere and a pervasive sense of silent nihilism in almost all his films. Though carefully staged and choreographed, Haneke’s work feels as if it forces us to watch the uglier or more pessimistic aspects of our world, which our minds are often inclined to distance themselves from; it feels like a reflection of reality.


In The Time of the Wolf, a film set in a post-apocalyptic dystopia where resources are scarce and people are reduced to desperate nomads, abandoning their former morals for pragmatic interests, Haneke diverges from reality more than usual. Although the cause of this situation is somewhat ambiguous, it is implied that a recent disease or chemical disaster has contaminated the majority of the planet’s natural resources.


Like Haneke’s other films, The Time of the Wolf focuses on the struggle of a single family: Anne (Isabelle Huppert), her husband Georges (Daniel Duval), and their two children, Eva (Anais Demoustier) and Ben (Lucas Biscombe). When the family retreats to their cabin in the woods, they find it occupied by an armed man, his wife, and their children. Although Georges attempts to resolve the situation peacefully, he is shot and killed, leaving Anne to venture into the wilderness with the children.





Benny’s Video (1992)


In Benny’s Video, Haneke clearly expresses his thoughts on guilt and confession. It tells the story of Benny (Arno Frisch), a young man locked in a world of images. The film addresses a recurring theme in Haneke’s cinema, what we might call the “principle of non-reality”; according to Haneke, an image is not the truth of the world but what distances us from it. Benny is trapped in a world of images, disconnected from reality. Like in a game, he kills a young girl with the gun a farmer used to kill a pig in a video. He replicates in real life what he saw in the image. In his innocent little mind, he wants to see what happens in life. Perhaps the worst part, beyond the act itself, is his apparent indifference, the absence of panic; Benny remains calm. “I wanted to see how it would be…” he tells his interrogating father. It is up to the viewer to mentally retrace the crime using words and emotions (remorse). Meanwhile, Benny, who shaves his head, continues to be trapped in his own world of images.





Funny Games (1997)


A weekend in the countryside… Classical music, a luxurious life, and a family we know little about… Then, very quickly, strangers enter the story. Two young men in shorts: Pierre and Paul, a perverse man in white and his foolishly obedient accomplice… Their evil is hidden within their white gloves. Haneke presents “The Other” in the form of “The Same”; the same skin color, the same social background, the same culture, the same elegant politeness of people from the same world. In the dramaturgy established, following the breaking of eggs on the floor, a persistent and almost “innocent” presence evolves into an outbreak of violence; this is the beginning of an inevitable process. Evil literally stages itself with words, gestures, or actions. This physical and moral trial challenges and disturbs the viewer’s comfort. The violence in the film inevitably seizes control of space and time. It is up to the viewer to find their place, an act of resistance against the power of images. This is what underlies the strength and unease in the director’s films. For over forty years, Haneke has managed to maintain his style, deconstructing traditions in his works.




A true artist should make people ask questions rather than provide answers; I have no message.

Michael Haneke




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