Rewind: ‘Funny Games (1997)’ Review
Stars: Ulrich Mühe, Susanne Lothar, Stefan Clapczynski, Arno Frisch, Frank Giering | Written and Directed by Michael Haneke
An innocuous sight opens this feature from writer/director Michael Haneke, as a car travels while containing the Schober family – made up of husband Georg (Ulrich Mühe), wife Anna (Susanne Lothar), young son Georgie (Stefan Clapczynski), and dog Rolfi. They pass the journey to their holiday home with a song guessing game, until one song stumps Georg. Much like the classical music playing on the car speakers, the film’s sound is then drowned out by hard rock, an effective indication of how any expectations of an arthouse feature is changed to something more hardcore.
While unpacking, the family are visited by two young men – Paul (Arno Frisch) and Peter (Frank Giering) – who ask to borrow eggs. The pair overstay their welcome as Peter clumsily breaks numerous batches of eggs and knocks the family’s phone into water, while Paul tries one of Georg’s golf clubs. Meanwhile, Rolfi is on edge and constantly barking until it comes to a sudden halt. Anna’s limits are tested as tensions rise until the two men attack and take the family hostage for their own amusement.
Haneke depicts a tense affair which puts the family in the middle of the duo’s sadistic games, while the violence largely occurs off-screen to leave the brutality to the viewer’s imagination. A particularly uncomfortable moment involves a game called “kitten in a bag,” with these moments heightened by the skin-crawling performances of Frisch and Giering. The duo put on friendly pretences to offset their cold actions, as they react with such viciousness to what they claim is unnecessary rudeness. They constantly claim that the events are happening over a box of eggs, yet one gets the feeling the eggs are just an excuse to justify their cruelty.
What sets apart this work from other home-invasion films is Haneke’s interrogation of the viewers, and how they can willingly watch such cruelty while also rooting for the family to survive. This comes out in fourth-wall-breaking moments, from Paul’s wink to the camera making the audience complicit, to the open remark of prolonging the suffering for “entertainment value” so that nobody misses out. When the family ask for motivations, ridiculous backstories are given in response, before Paul simply asks what answer would be satisfactory. There is no answer which can justify the torment inflicted, and Haneke makes that abundantly clear.
The off-screen violence leaves a focus on the aftermath of such savagery, depicting the traumatizing impact while asking if viewers are satisfied. It can feel a bit much in the reprimanding of viewers, as though one expects an on-screen finger-wagging at the camera, yet there is power in confronting the media’s preoccupation with violent horrors. Funny Games is a brutal piece that offers no respite for viewers, with the smallest glimmers of hope being snuffed out rather quickly.
