Speaking of
Desperate Hours-inspired cinema, it's nearing time for U.S. moviegoers to brace for the
Funny Games remake, hitting what I'd guess will be an all-too-low number of theaters on March 14th.
Austrian provocateur Michael Haneke remakes his own 1997 original. Word is it's shot-for-shot (confirmed by producer Linda Moran in the early stages), and the
trailer does indeed look mighty familiar – it's frame-by-frame same as the
original trailer for about a minute or so, at which point we get a little
In the Hall of the Mountain King and the dramatic escalation that Grieg usually provides.
Haneke selected to translate his dialogue Naomi Watts, Tim Roth, and Devon Gearhart (as the unsuspecting vacationers) and Michael Pitt and Brady Corbet (as the mannerly intruders). Talented cinematographer Darius Khondji must have been bored replicating shots; Watts described the process of structurally simulating a previous performance as akin to 'acting with a bag over your head' in an interview I can't currently relocate to fact-check that quotation. I imagine Devon Gearhart also found the process remarkably similar to acting with a bag over his head.
“To my knowledge, no one has ever remade his own film so precisely,” Haneke told novelist John Wray for the
New York Times: “The new version is the same film superficially, of course, but it’s also very different: a different atmosphere, different performances, a different end result. That in and of itself is interesting.”
Funny Games is indeed a funny game, a teetering mixture of Haneke's unerring technical precision with an occasional (but very much the film's thesis) interest in accusations of audience complicity. Haneke intended it, from what little I've read, as a volley against the sadism of Hollywoodized violence; part of the appeal of the movie to me is the way it both succeeds and fails, or, since Haneke is unfailingly precise in my experience, the way it offers and withholds. If you really want to subvert the violent thriller, isn't that best achieved by starting with a pretty standard one and using that as an impartial base to level your accusations at the audience? Unfortunately, Haneke is probably too good a filmmaker, and so he made a better thriller, which seems at odds with his main point. Or is the offscreen violence part of a withholding to make us wonder what we want from these flicks, the long static shots meant to frustrate? In any case, the original "was always made with American audiences in mind, since its subject is Hollywood’s attitude toward violence," says Haneke, which must have led to some frustration over the years, since it hasn't been widely seen in the States.
The remake, then, seems less like a remake and more like a re-try, an admission that the only way to reach the ideal audience is to make it in English with actors of some recognizability (though Watts is the only box-office draw). Note that the original
Funny Games is titled in English despite being in German, announcing its North American relevance immediately (and again at the end). If the entire endeavor is an attack on American audiences, it's only right they get to see it. Ideally it'd open in a lot of theaters and make a lot of people very mad, but sadly the assumption right now is that grim torture thrillers are very
out (though
Funny Games, as with Haneke's others, allows very little onscreen violence), so I'm not expecting the wide release it would need to make any real impact beyond art-house philosophizing.
What I expected upon Americanization was a removal of the weird European art-house stuff, the stuff that makes
Funny Games stand out beyond its showing as a strong genre flick. It's also what makes the movie potentially confusing to anyone (if you've seen it, you know what scene I mean), let alone an audience not used to these shenanigans. In any case, Haneke admirably enough retains the meta-commentary (be a sellout if he didn't), and the film will level its mild assault on audiences soon, to mediocre box-office and general disdain from critics who gripe about its brutality, lumping it in with the usual suspects, or find its forced audience involvement distasteful (or tasteful but uninteresting in its second iteration).
Funny Games can't necessarily decide if it's against a sadistic audience or cinematic violence. Haneke seems to think the latter and main heavy Paul the former, so which to believe? Paul's opinion, clearly stated, is that perceived fiction is as real as perceived reality, so that'd leave the two on equally authoritative footing.
Haneke (nor Paul) also doesn't much distinguish between the unwashed masses salivating over what he must see as non-commentary film violence (
Saw, to pick an easy target, and to select a movie I didn't like but would still be willing to produce a defense of, or maybe
Hannibal, to go a different route) and more critical patrons at the Arclight watching
No Country For Old Men. Nor does he address a third group, those writing dissertations on
I Know Who Killed Me (figuratively or literally). There's much to question about the motives about this group in particular, myself included, and Haneke surely has his own ideas, but he stays mum.
Paul is happy to include all viewers equally, and his refusal to distinguish makes the charges all the more applicable, and perhaps admirably removes the high horse from the second and third categories. I'm pleased to realize that he's including Haneke as well.
In any case, the rather difficult poster pointedly addresses the larger idea that
Funny Games wants to get across. While the genteel evildoers do lightly remind the family that their own inhospitality was the catalyst for their subsequent misery, the tagline YOU MUST ADMIT, YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF refers more crucially to the poster-readers and movie-watchers, who are the guilty parties, having indirectly brought upon themselves the original assault, the retargeted second-chance presentation (exponentially extra guilt if you watch the original and return for the remake), and Naomi Watts' predicament itself. Unless you're just walking past the poster on your way into the multiplex to see
Horton Hears A Who, in which case, whoops, my bad.
Labels: desperate hours, funny games, michael haneke, naomi watts
Diablo Cody and Jason Reitman will follow Juno by teaming once again – Cody's script, Reitman producing – for an upcoming horror-comedy called Jennifer's Body, directed by Karyn Kusama. (I don't know if it's Cody or Reitman responsible for bringing J.K. Simmons back for this film as well.) The Jennifer in question (Megan Fox of Transformers and Transformers 2: More Transformers) is a small-town Minnesotan cheerleader who succumbs to demonic possession and starts killing the local boys. Her best friend (Amanda Seyfried, of sizable runs on Big Love and Veronica Mars as well as the upcoming Mamma Mia, an entry in the Greatest Hits CD-to-film genre) and a Satanic rock band play parts.
