#michael haneke

code inconnu, 2000

michael haneke

code inconnu, 2000

michael haneke

code inconnu, 2000

michael haneke

code inconnu, 2000

michael haneke

code inconnu, 2000

michael haneke

1.Amour (Michael Haneke)

This masterful ode to death and dying is every bit as uncomfortable and unflinching as Michael Haneke’s sombre reputation suggests, but by adding a new found warmth to his repertoire, Amour is a film made remarkable in its simultaneously brutal and tender depiction of humanity.

2. The Master (Paul Thomas Anderson)

Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest opus offers, among other things, an intensive study of men who lead and men looking to be led in post-war America. This cerebral approach to character makes for fascinating cinema, and although its mysteries may ultimately evade, The Master is as breathless a film as one would expect from America’s greatest showman.

3.Tiny Furniture (Lena Dunham)

Building on the already solid foundations of mumblecore with the wit of Woody Allen, Lena Dunham’s painfully frank film about life after graduation is a thoroughly modern and disturbingly relatable examination of alienated youth and wasted talent.

4.Rust and Bone (Jacques Audiard)

Jacques Audiard’s exquisite take on melodrama observes the blossoming relationship between a security guard and a whale trainer in the wake of a career-ending tragedy, but instead of descending into mawkishness, Audiard’s well judged restraint grounds the film in some kind of reality, allowing the central romance to develop in an organic, unsentimental way.

5.The Innkeepers (Ti West)

By combining the twin terrors of ghost stories and existential crises, Ti West has found the perfect home for the thematic concerns of the mumblecore movement with a film that not only functions as A grade horror, but also as a terrifying parable for the modern youth.

6.Alps (Yorgos Lanthimos)

The Hitchcockian idea of using doppelgangers to help appease grief is an inherently sick one, and Lanthimos’ steady, distant observations of how the frailties of such a process begin to surface are, while elusive, as morbidly fascinating as they are troubling.

7. Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (Nuri Bilge Ceylan)

With its long, glacial takes, stunning photography and startlingly calm approach to narrative and character, Once Upon A Time In Anatolia offers an unusually lyrical, thematically rich take on the police procedural sub-genre.

8.Laurence Anyways (Xavier Dolan)

The epitome of a hot mess, Xavier Dolan’s vivid dissection of transsexuality, romance and heartbreak is a gorgeously presented, decade spanning emotional epic reminiscent of the work of Pedro Almodovar, and although it lacks control, its bombastic style is more than enough to sustain its ambition.

9.Sightseers (Ben Wheatley)

Taking cues from Badlands and the films of Mike Leigh, Ben Wheatley’s third film in as many years is an unabashedly violent, romantic and hilarious romp through the English countryside, blending horror and comedy to wonderful, if wholly British effect.

10.Holy Motors (Leos Carax)

Leos Carax’s brazenly opaque oddity almost didn’t make this list, with its absurd, often hideous images serving to baffle rather than engage. But, for better or for worse, Holy Motors has stayed with me more than any other film this year, and that surely has to mean something.

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NOTE:This list is based on UK release dates.

“We’re not up to feature film length, yet” - Funny Games, 1997

With his latest film, the Palme D'Or winning Amour, hitting UK cinemas, now seems as good a time as any to reevaluate the work of the great arthouse provocateur, Michael Haneke.

The Seventh Continent(1989)

Haneke’s debut film sees the director starting as he means to go on. Based on real events, The Seventh Continent follows a seemingly normal Austrian family who become so disillusioned with society that they reject it entirely.

On paper, this seems a perfect story for Haneke to tell, and, for the most part, it is. It unfolds quietly, with the jarring cuts to black between scenes and the painfully long takes imbuing the film with a palpable sense of dread. But as Haneke keeps his distance from the characters, the explosive final act, while incredibly interesting, lacks any real emotional weight, leaving the film too passive an experience to fully invest in.

Benny’s Video(1992)

The director’s sophomore effort sees Haneke building on the themes of his debut, crafting a distressing tale of desensitised youth. The film follows the titular Benny, a young boy who shares an almost symbiotic relationship with his video camera. When his parents go away for the weekend, his detachment from real life becomes obvious, and he and his family are forced to deal with the consequences.

Benny’s Video is Haneke’s most obvious critique of the media, focusing on its power to corrupt the minds of the young. It’s also his most heavy-handed work, with obvious imagery littering the film (the view of Benny’s brutal act through the viewfinder of his camera, for instance). Still, it does have value as a formative work of a very raw filmmaker, and although it may not be Haneke’s greatest achievement, it, like The Seventh Continent, lays the foundations for the great work to come.

71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance(1994)

The final part of his “Glaciation trilogy”, 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance takes a similar approach to his previous two films, deconstructing society’s flaws in typically unflinching manner. Comprised of seventy-one separate scenes, some long, some short, the film follows the lives of several characters leading up to a random act of extreme violence.

Interweaving news footage of war-zones and celebrity crises with the contrasting lives of the characters, the film’s message is hardly nuanced, yet Haneke’s control of the imagery drives it to its shocking finale. Far from the clunky metaphors of his previous work, this film contains some of Haneke’s best symbolism to date, particularly a shot of a boy being gradually worn down by a consistent barrage of ping-pong balls.

It’s a riveting image, and a riveting film. Although Haneke’s judgment is made clear from the off, it’s fascinating to watch this story unfold.

The Castle(1997)

This adaptation of Franz Kafka’s novel marks a thematic turning point for Haneke. It’s his first, and only, film based on a work of fiction, as well as the only time he would explicitly tackle themes of alienation and bureaucracy.

When a land surveyor, simply known as K, arrives in a remote village for work, he is constantly hindered by paperwork, prejudice and distrust at the hands of the locals. Treading similar ground to Kafka’s other novel, The Trial, a novel that spawned the greatest work of Orson Welles’ career, The Castle is a film of frustration and absurdity. Haneke handles it well, keeping the restrained, distant tone he’d perfected with his previous films to emphasise and enhance K’s loneliness.

And it works well. Much like Welles’ film, The Castle is an odd, bleak experience, but in the context of his filmography as a whole, it’s merely very interesting wallpaper.

Funny Games(1997)

The film that marked his breakthrough to world audiences, Funny Games is easily Haneke’s most visceral and brutal work to date. The film is about a family who, upon arriving at their summer house in the country, are subjected to violent physical and psychological torture at the hands of two young home invaders. Haneke puts his audience through their paces in Funny Games, with both the extremity of the violence and, most disconcertingly, the influence of the media on the antagonists - at one point, one of the torturers says “never underestimate the power of entertainment” - capitalising on the hopelessness of the situation.

Funny Games is an excruciating, compelling post-modern exercise in provocation from Haneke, but one that also acts as an unflinching critique of the media and its impact on society.

Code Unknown(2000)

Using Robert Bresson’s L'Argent as a reference point to his examination of cultural and sociological  differences, Haneke’s Code Unknown offers a typically brutal indictment of people and their prejudices in contemporary society.

The film chronicles the devastating impact on the lives of those involved in an explosive, racially motivated argument in Paris. Haneke follows each of these characters separately, jumping between their arcs seemingly at random - much like in 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance. But, unlike that film, Haneke’s judgmental hand is far from obvious here, leaving the finished product a much more complex, interesting and pertinent examination of society’s flaws. 

The Piano Teacher(2001)

The idea of repression seems at odds with Haneke’s depictions of extreme violence, so the success of The Piano Teacher marks something of a change of pace for the director - at least it should be. In fact, it’s arguably his most violent film to date.

Bolstered by an extraordinary performance from Isabelle Huppert as Erika, the titular piano teacher, the film is at once a harrowing examination of jealousy, repression and shame, as well as a startling tale of naivety and desire. It’s an intense film - possibly the most intense Haneke’s ever been - but it’s also his most intimate. Erika is in virtually every scene, and Haneke gives the audience time to understand her.

This is new territory for Haneke - he had never shown such interest in a character. But this is what makes The Piano Teacher so impressive. It’s a fascinating character study, and one that remains Haneke’s most troubling, harrowing work.

Time of the Wolf(2003)

Time of the Wolf is one of the lesser known films of Haneke's oeuvre, having been released to muted acclaim in 2003. This is understandable as it’s his least imposing film to date, but there are riches to be mined here - they’re just not the riches they could’ve been.

The film follows a family trying to survive in a post apocalyptic world after the patriarch is murdered. On paper, this premise seems to be one that Haneke could make incredibly interesting, but, in reality, it feels incredibly hollow. Visually, it’s a beautiful film, with fog and darkness used particularly well, but Haneke seems happy to simply observe this world when there was so much room for a detailed examination. 

It’s a shame, but not a total loss. The struggles of the family are handled well, and the film remains compelling throughout, but Haneke’s artistic concerns are conspicuous in their absence. 

Hidden(2005)

One of his most critically lauded films, Haneke’s Hidden is as strong an exploration of guilt as you’re ever likely to see on screen. The film follows a middle-class French family (TV personality Georges, book publisher Anne, and their son, Pierrot) as they are terrorised by a string of mysterious videotapes left at their door. As Georges strives to discover the source of the tapes, he is forced to confront the demons of his past.

At times reminiscent of David Lynch’s Lost Highway and featuring a string of great performances, Hidden is a typically Hanekian mystery - equal parts compelling examination of society and a virtuosic control of narrative. But what makes it stand out as one of his best films is its subtlety - beautifully demonstrated in the film’s eerily ambiguous final shot.

The White Ribbon(2009)

Haneke’s status as a master of modern world cinema was solidified with this bleak drama, winning him the highly coveted Palme D'Or at the Cannes Film Festival - regarded by many as the highest honour of the arthouse.

The film chronicles a number of strange goings on in a German village in the lead up to World War I. With the period setting, black and white photography and numerous homages to the work of Ingmar Bergman, The White Ribbon is the first Haneke film to feel like a throwback to a bygone era of European cinema - not that this is a bad thing, mind. The White Ribbon is typical Haneke material in the guise of the work of his biggest influences - particularly Bergman’s Winter Light and Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest.

Most impressively, it’s every bit as essential as its influences.

Amour(2012)

Haneke’s second consecutive film to win the Palme D'Or follows an elderly couple, Georges and Anne, forced to deal with their own mortality as Anne’s health begins to deteriorate following a stroke.

This is a tragic romance in the only way Haneke knows how - it’s both brutal and beautiful, depicting the full extent of Anne’s deterioration while focusing on the inner turmoil of Georges’ attempts to cope. Most impressively, however, is how romantic it is. Haneke is most known for his detached approach to his characters, but Amour is such a candid, claustrophobic film that it’s impossible not to empathise with their struggle.

Amour boasts the brutality of his previous works yet feels altogether different in comparison. It’s an interesting dynamic that leaves Haneke’s career at an interesting junction. Where will he go from here? Who can say, but he’s showing no sign of slowing down just yet.

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NOTE: The U.S. version of Funny Games has been omitted from this list, purely because it’s essentially identical to the original and does not warrant further discussion in this context.