Caché (2005)

I’d heard a lot about Michael Haneke and I went it with high expectations. I was not disappointed.Michael Haneke’s Caché is undoubtedly sophisticated, but in a way that is unfamiliar to the modern American viewer. Haneke uses minimalistic editing techniques and long takes to progress his narrative while still limiting the knowledge given to the viewer;  Haneke’s expects the viewer to pay attention to the implications made throughout the film and take away a larger meaning from the film than what is explicitly depicted.

Haneke is painstakingly careful in restricting the amount of information displayed in any one scene to reflect exactly what he wants the viewer to see- sometimes that is a clearly illustrated action, while other times it is a vague or muddled message. In the scene in which Majid commits suicide in front of Georges, Haneke is explicit with what he wants the viewer to take away from the scene. He capitalizes on shock factor, astonishing his viewers with Majid’s gruesome suicide. It is not necessary to rely on rapid cutting or overwhelming sound effects to shape the scene; the editing in the scene is simple, and the point is made in a mere two shots. The viewer does not have to mull over the point of this scene or delve deep into the narrative to deduce the purpose of this scene. It’s all there for you in the action. This scene is also interesting in that the camera placement in this scene mirrors the camera placement from Georges first adventure to Majid’s apartment. Although ambiguous at first, it becomes clear that the camera placement in both scenes is intended to be understood as a hidden camera, and furthermore, the source of several of the videotapes. The viewer at this point undertakes the role of voyeur, intruding in on the lives of the Laurents just like the stalker does.  The viewer is the spy, soaking up the message of the filmmaker, which is, in this scene, overt and alarming.

Haneke  displays his versatility, however, throughout the film with scenes, such as the final scene, that demand the viewer to carefully scrutinize them to search for their purposes in relation to the narrative.  This scene, in and of itself, is not particularly exciting or complicated. It is a wide angle shot and an incredibly long take of Pierrot’s school. The scene is one single shot with no camera movement whatsoever; the movement in the frame is chaotic and busy, and upon first glance, it is difficult to deduce what Haneke is cueing the viewer to pay attention to. American audiences are spoiled by American directors who dumb down their shots to guarantee that the viewer’s eye is drawn only to the main subject of interest; watching that type of film is a passive experience. Haneke does not give his viewers the luxury of being able to zone out and still soak in the basic message of the film.

With almost painfully long takes and subtle, sometimes even nonexistent, editing, Haneke forces the viewer to be more attentive to the narrative, and the viewer thus becomes an active participant in the interpretation of the film. Consequently, by the time the final scene of the film is introduced, the viewer is so accustomed to the absurdly long takes that he knows to look for the somewhat disguised purpose of the scene. The watcher’s newly-developed viewing style prompts him to scan the distracting and seemingly unimportant background, searching for what Haneke wants him to see. After much searching, the viewer finally focuses in on Pierrot and Majid’s son deep in conversation. With this subtle move, Haneke brings a whole new set of possibilities to the narrative and leaves the viewer guessing. With less intense action, Haneke manages to make almost a stronger impression on the viewer than in dramatic scenes.

Accordingly, the suicide scene and this ending scene share many other differences. Not only are they dissimilar in how they illustrate their overall messages, they are also different in the emotional connotations that these message elicit. Majid’s suicide provokes a horrified emotional response; the macabre method of his unexpected death makes the spectator cringe. The relaxed camera work and slow pace of editing make Majid’s abrupt throat-slashing all the more startling and appalling. On the other hand, the final scene cues not the emotions of terror and disgust, but those of wonder and inquisition. Although the suicide evokes a more animalistic and innate emotional response, the final scene touches the viewer on a deeper level, making him question the meanings and implications of the film. In comparing these two scenes, we get a feel for Haneke’s emotional dexterity and variation.

Haneke’s editing and long takes give the impression that the viewer is watching the film in real time. In multiple scenes throughout the film, the viewer watches the anyonymous  videotapes from the point of view of the Laurents. These scenes are often mundane and boring. Basically every tape the Laurents receive contains little to no action on it; they are simply every day scenes of the Laurents’ house, with the occasional car passing by.  Although this, at times, can be off-putting and tedious, it does convey the sense of realism that permeates the rest of the film. Yes, there are portions of the film that drag on a bit, but if the story of the film were happening in real life, there would indeed be portions of lag time. Real life is not always interesting, it is not always action packed, and Haneke does an excellent job of translating this into the cinematic world.

This realism goes hand-in-hand with the concept of voyeurism that is at play throughout the film. The videotapes are the most obvious example of this notion. The Laurents’ anonymous stalker is indeed a voyeur, intruding in on their lives and wreaking havoc in their personal relationships. But the concept of voyeurism transcends the diegetic world of the film into the larger message of the film.

Instead of explicity showing the viewer what he wants you to see, Haneke uses subtle editing techniques and long takes to alter how the viewer watches the film. Haneke plays with the audience and limits the amount of knowledge he divulges to the viewer throughout the film, forcing the audience to delve deeper into the story to solve the mystery and assemble the pieces of the narrative together into a concise account. In this way, the viewer is like a voyeur, spying in on the story of the film to try and gain additional knowledge to add to what he already knows. All in all, I’m very impressed with this introduction to Haneke and I look forward to seeing more of his work.

Brick (2005)

Shadows in the Basement 

Rian Johnson’s Brick is a neo-noir if I’ve ever seen one. It puts on interesting spin on the neo-noir by setting it in a suburban California high school. The noir characteristics of Brick are manifested in the story of the film more than in the style. Though there are some stylistic nods to noir, such as the dark, shadowy basement filled with shadows that Tugg and Brendan find themselves in part way through the film. The scene at Laura’s party in her room with Brendan featured the dark/light juxtaposition common in noir films through its use of candles. The film also demonstrates a non-linear storyline, which helps amplify suspense and “shows by not showing”. This works well with the quick editing and rapid-fire dialogue (which I will discuss further in a moment).

Femme fatale, high school edition

More noticeably, the plot and story of Brick adhere to many noir characteristics. Perhaps the most prominent is the flawless femme fatal, Laura. She smokes cigarettes (cigarettes which actually lead to Brendan figuring out her role in the scheme) and is often featured in red as she seduces and manipulates the men (and women) around her to work to her advantage. She is cold and calculated but comes across as gentle and feminine. I particularly appreciated how, at the very end of the film, just when you think she’s played all her cards as Brendan accuses her and a tear rolls down her face, she drops the bomb that the baby might have been Brendan’s and walks away with the last victory.

Joseph Gordon Levitt fulfilled the role of lonely anti-hero very well. Although we root for him the entire film, his character is not necessarily likeable and his morality is generally ambiguous; it is hard to tell why he does what he does throughout the film. His character was accented well by Tugg, the “good” bad guy, who slaughters several people in the film but yet somehow garners a bit of our sympathy when we learn of his love for Emily and how Laura used it to play him like a pawn in a game of chess.

I thought the choice to set Brick in a high school worked marvelously well. At first, the gritty, old school crime dialogue which the characters, particularly Brendan, fire off with rapidity seemed awkward and out of place for their age. The more I thought about it though, the more I think it is a genius move playing on the idea of teenagers getting in over their heads and dabbling into things which they are too young to be able to handle. This also had the effect of making them seem like they were “too cool for school”, so to speak, and made me feel how a grandmother might feel listening to her grandkids using current slang terms and having no idea what they’re talking about. The high school setting also contributed moments of absurd humor, like in the scene where Pin’s mom sweetly pours Brendan orange juice and kisses Pin on the head on the way out, totally undermining his constructed identity as a ruthless, fearsome drug lord. The characters seem to hard-boiled and tough but in actuality, they’re just awkward, hormone ridden teenagers who bit off more than they can chew and to situate them in a noir translated particularly well.

            One last thing that I was fond of in this film was the bird motif that was prevalent throughout the film. There’s the ridiculous bird on the mailbox of Pin’s house, another large bird statue in his basement, and the chickens on all of Pin’s mother’s dishware; not to mention the flock of birds that take flight off the football field as Brendan confronts Laura for the last time (who is wearing a bird feather on a headband in her hair). I read these birds, particularly the bird on Pin’s mailbox, as a nod to The Maltese Falcon and another element of noir that was subtle yet powerful.