You're gonna be bothered by how cool I am.

Michael Haneke directed one of my favorite seriously disturbing movies, The Piano Teacher. When I read reviews of that film, I kept seeing critics refer to one of his previous films, Funny Games. While not many details about Funny Games were given in these referential comments, it seemed to be a truth universally acknowledged that it was, like The Piano Teacher, an exceedingly uncomfortable and frightening film.

I was intrigued, but never got around to watching Funny Games. Even when I found out that Haneke was remaking it in an American setting. The American remake was what I chose as my movie outing today. This is not what I'd consider a horror movie, but it's still terribly disturbing, despite there not being much overt violence on the screen.


Ann and George and their son Georgie are on their way to their lake house for a couple weeks of vacation. When they pull into their neighborhood, they spot their friends/neighbors, with whom they're supposed to play golf the next day. Ann rolls down the window for a shout-out, but the friends respond rather coldly. Not too out of the ordinary, I thought, because I can think of times where I've greeted people with a little more familiarity than was felt in return. Ann thinks it strange, though, and wonders who the two guys are that are standing with her neighbors.

Over the next few minutes of packing and boat-launching, Ann and George are introduced to the strangers. Well, introduced is probably not too accurate a term, because introductions are not actually exchanged in the normal "Ann, this is Paul. Paul, this is Ann." way. Just a perfunctory "This is Paul." with an added afterthought of "His father is a colleague of mine." said very much as if a)it's a fact that's resented, or b)it's not a fact at all.

And then one of the young men comes to ask Ann a favor. Your friend, the woman we're staying with, he says, is cooking dinner and needs four eggs. No problem, says Ann, and she gets the eggs. The young man refuses the offer of a small carton and carries them with his hands instead. Uh-oh. He drops them on his way out the door. It's okay, says Ann. Don't worry about it. She cleans up the mess while he says "I'm so sorry." repeatedly. The mess is cleaned up, and now there's an awkward moment. He doesn't say it in so many words, but he expects Ann to give him four more eggs. Ann, though she doesn't say it explicitly either, would clearly rather not give them to him. Not wanting to seem rude, though, she does (in a carton this time). However, for her own satisfaction and peace of mind, she politely asks him to take the eggs and leave.

This may not seem like much, but it's really a brilliant setup for what's coming. It's a seemingly banal domestic situation, and Ann handles it with all the politeness that a warm and friendly society would expect of her. She does what any of us would do in her place. But in giving this stranger her politeness, she also gives him power. And power, in the hands of a pair of sociopaths, is a very dangerous thing. It starts with a few broken eggs, and before we know it, there's blood on the walls.

As I watched Tim Roth play the broken husband George in this, I couldn't help thinking of him in Pulp Fiction, telling Amanda Plummer about a pair of thieves who robbed a bank with nothing but a telephone. No guns, no knives, just a phone. That's so similar to what happens here. These two guys, armed with nothing, terrorize this poor family with just ... what's around the family's own house. That and their absolute audacity.

There are some pretty astounding performances in this, most notably Naomi Watts as Ann. She does some remarkable emotional work here, but there's also a very physical aspect to her performance. Haneke has a way of pointing the camera at a scene and just ... letting it unfold, without telling us what to look at or how to feel. After one of the characters is killed and the family gets a bit of a reprieve, Ann, who has been left with nothing on but her underwear and her hands tied together as well as her feet, attempts to free herself. I swear this took at least five minutes with endless gettings up and down and moving around until she can finally get to the kitchen to cut herself free. And all from a single camera angle. I'm tired just thinking about it.

This film is brilliant in every respect ... except one. :P I was not sold on the "implicating the audience" idea. There are several times when the killers look into the camera, asking the viewer what he/she thinks or expects, or winking or something. As if we're as guilty along with them because we're watching. Well, no I'm not. Because I know darn well that what I'm watching is a story, and it's not really happening. Know how I know? Because if it wasn't, I'd be a HECK of a lot more scared watching. There's a point to be made about people who enjoy violent movies, to be sure, but this isn't it, in my opinion.

That aside, though, this is a really amazing film. Not too flashy, and not even too violent, but it scares you in a very different way.

Now I just have to see the original. :)

Here's the trailer, if you're curious and don't want to see the whole thing. Probably the best use of Peer Gynt in a movie trailer ever.