Georges and Anne are an octogenarian couple. They are cultivated, retired music teachers. Their daughter, also a musician, lives in Britain with her family. One day, Anne has a stroke, and the couple's bond of love is severely tested.
A 14-year-old video enthusiast is so caught up in film fantasy that he can no longer relate to the real world, to such an extent that he commits murder and records an on-camera confession for his parents.
Jean, a farm lad, wants to escape his silent father; he runs to Paris to his older brother, Georges, who's away covering the war in Kosovo. Angry, he throws a bag of half-eaten pastry into ... See full summary »
A European family who plan on escaping to Australia, seem caught up in their daily routine, only troubled by minor incidents. However, behind their apparent calm and repetitive existence, they are actually planning something sinister.
Set in France, Georges is a TV Literary Reviewer and lives in a small yet modern town house with his wife Ann, a publisher and his young son Pierrot. They begin to receive video tapes through the post of their house and family, along side obscure child-like drawings. They visit the police with hope of aid to find the stalker, but as there is no direct threat, they refuse to help. As the tapes become more personal, Georges takes it upon himself to figure out who is putting through his family through such horror. A true Michael Haneke Classic. Written by
There is no music, save for the theme on George's show, and background music at Anne's publishing party. See more »
During the tape where Georges pulls up in his car and parks at night the headlights clearly cast a huge distinct shadow of the camera on the wall. See more »
Isn't it lonely, if you can't go out?
Why? Are you less lonely because you can sit in the garden? Do you feel less lonely in the metro than at home? Well then! Anyway, I have my family friend... with remote control. Whenever they annoy me, I just shut them up.
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Which pretty much sums up my reaction to this overrated, pretentious pile of indulgent pap. This mind-bogglingly awful, brain-numbingly slow film starts with a potentially interesting premise and then grinds away, pointlessly and at the speed of sludge, as if to spite anyone whose hopes might have been raised. Whole scenes lack shape, pace or even purpose, and go on for longer than should be permitted. At the end of each scene, the only realistic reaction is, "Yeah? So?" This is not, as many fans will be quick to claim, just anti-Hollywood, it is anti-film. I do not expect instant resolution or fast editing or obvious story-telling. I do expect some sort of point, even if it be pointlessness. It is said that this is an "open work", that it is up to the audience to bring what they will to it. Nonsense. This merely means that the filmmaker was too lazy to bring any vision of his own to the table, but merely lays out the half-baked result so that some chin-stroking cineastes can go,"Oooooh, look -- how profouuuuuund". Mind you, from what I've read, a lot of the fans seem determined to read anything they can into this mess. George's is a racist? And how...how did this ever present itself? For that matter, how did anything present itself? I'm not about to indulge in "spoilers", here, solely because there is nothing to spoil: what "revelation" there is, when it comes, is of the "Yeah? So?" variety, a trivial, meaningless event that took place years before and is never really explained (You know, so you can read whatever you want into it, maaaaaaan) Implausible situations pile upon implausible motivations: people say things they would never say, do things that no real person would ever do, conversations consist merely of people shouting at each other and never actually answering the questions they're asked merely to prolong the shouting match (not for any dramatic or realistic effect).
Do yourself a favour: skip this pile of Emperor's New Clothes, because it's time you'll never get back, time you'd be better off on far more fulfilling pursuits, like clipping your toenails or trying to staple yourself to a plank.
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