Two Cents is a Cinapse original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team curates the series and contribute their “two cents” using a maximum of 200-400 words. Guest contributors and comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future picks. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion. Would you like to be a guest contributor or programmer for an upcoming Two Cents entry? Simply watch along with us and/or send your pitches or 200-400 word reviews to cinapse.twocents@gmail.com.
The Pick: Funny Games (2007)
No one hates remakes as much as horror fans… or so it seems. It’s really just a vocal minority, because once you start talking to gorehounds and horror nerds, you’ll find that most of us appreciate a good remake and are willing to admit that some of them are as good as or better than the original films. This month, we’re spending spooky season with some of our favorite remakes. Each week one of us will present a remake we thing surpasses its predecessor and invite the ridicule, love, agreement, hate, or whatever comes our way.
Funny Games is a slap in the face to viewers. It stings, it makes you angry, and it lingers. It’s designed to agitate, and it does so wonderfully. The first time I watched Funny Games, I watched the 2007 version, and I hated it. I dismissed the movie outright. Years later I found myself thinking about the movie every now and then, eventually being curious enough to go back and not only watch the 1997 original but also taking another look at the 2007 version. I gained more appreciation for what Michael Haneke is doing with this movie, even if I can’t say I like either film. However, I do find them to be fascinating and I’m dying to see what the team thinks of Haneke’s Games.
The Team
Julian Singleton
Funny Games (US) was my first Michael Haneke film, back in 2008. I had zero context for the film outside of its trailer–which, if I had, would’ve immediately keyed me into the fact this was a shot-for-shot remake of its 1997 original. Regardless, it was a bracing cinematic slap in the face to what I previously expected from cinema, or my position towards it as a seemingly passive spectator.
Many dismissed the film as a pointless, even vain exercise, comparing it to Gus Van Sant’s Psycho remake and accusing Haneke of adding nothing to his earlier work. Yet the film gains meaning precisely because it’s an exact replica of the original. Haneke underscores that the message hasn’t changed–and, even after changing languages and performers, neither has the audience.
Few directors are as attuned to the ethical stakes of filmmaking as Haneke, who has openly criticized works like Schindler’s List for turning atrocity into Oscar-bait attractions. His career fixates on our appetite for on-screen violence and the blurry line between actions witnessed and actions taken (or not). In witnessing Funny Games’ torture of a family by two disturbingly cheerful young men, he makes us a silent accomplice through our own act of watching.
From the outset, Funny Games exposes its artifice: the lack of score, the stock character names (joining The Seventh Continent, Cache, Amour, and more in its Anne/George pairing), and the unsettling moments when Paul looks directly at the camera, awaiting our response. When Anne (Naomi Watts) kills a captor, only for Paul to “rewind” the film and undo her act, feels like a deliberate slap at narrative convention, denying us the cathartic release we’ve been conditioned to expect even as Paul chastises her for “breaking the rules.” But to Haneke’s own point, isn’t this manipulation? If a creator can intervene to rewrite the story at will, what meaning does the experience hold? The same question applies to Haneke’s decision to remake his own film shot-for-shot; for me, knowing Funny Games is an identical remake, an overt act of re-manipulation, only sharpens that provocation. By revealing the once-invisible hand behind the story, Haneke makes us uncomfortably aware of the personal choice required, concious or not, to be manipulated.
In 2008, Naomi Watts, Tim Roth, and Michael Pitt were well-known names (and today Brady Corbet is an Oscar-nominated writer-director), making it harder to separate character from performer compared to an American’s relative knowledge of Ulrich Mühe or Susanne Lothar. Regardless, Haneke’s austere direction and his cast’s unflinching commitment shockingly sustain the same illusion of realism as Haneke’s 1997 original. It’s in the anguished faces of Watts, Roth, and especially Devon Gearhart as much as the blank smiles of Pitt and Corbet. The cumulative effect makes Haneke’s piercing of the veil all the more shattering–a visceral demonstration of how easily we’ve surrendered to the spectacle of violence, even if we might claim to reject it once we leave the “world” of the film.
In interviews, Haneke has said that Funny Games—both versions—are “for those who deserve it.” To me, all of Funny Games (US)’ cultural baggage only heightens the experience of watching the film and further sharpens Haneke’s blade. No matter the culture or context, no matter how familiar the story or cast, the real experiment lies in the experience itself. By mirroring his own film for a new audience, Haneke suggests that the hunger for violence isn’t diminished by time, language, or casting—only by our willingness to confront what we seek from the images on screen. Haneke’s enduring, funniest game is that the violence persists not because it’s depicted on screen, but because we keep choosing to watch.
Justin Harlan
I saw the American version of this film first, so I must admit that this fact colors my opinion. When. it comes to films and their remakes where I appreciate both, it’s often the one I saw first that remains my favorite. So, take that as an admission that there’s bias. An additional bias is that I tend to prefer English language films because I feel more fully immersed in languages I understand (I feel similarly comfortable with Spanish language films, though not to the same extent, despite not being fluent).
With these admissions, I still assert that the Haneke’s 2007 remake of his own 1997 film is the superior version of the film. For me, the main reason for this is the cast – specifically Michael Pitt. Pitt is perfect in his role . Sadistic, yet charming. Charismatic, yet cold and dark. He’s brilliant in his awesome awfulness. For me, he is the element that really pushes the film over the top when comparing the two versions of the film.
Never the less, I was a late comer to this one. Despite enjoying horror a great deal since my youth and becoming a full on horror nerd in my teens when I saw Scream in theaters, I didn’t do the extreme side of the genre until my 30s. While most gorehounds seem to do that edgelord phase in these early 20s, I didn’t watch the banned and generally screwed up stuff until a decade ago. But, for me, it became more than a phase. I like to watch extreme cinema in a more academic way than I do most film, looking at the transgressive ideas and what the film is trying to say – for example, I think A Serbian Film is a fantastic film (albeit one that I think I may be done watching for the rest of my life) and I even spent a great deal of time thinking and writing on it.
Funny Games was one of the earlier entries into extreme cinema for me. And it’s one that is appreciated by many folks who don’t like the bulk of this subgenre at all because of it’s extremely well crafted shots and attention to detail, as well as the overall filmmaking quality. It’s also an extremely interesting study in that a filmmaker remade his own work in a different language and adapted it to a different culture while retaining the overall feel and themes.
In short, both films are fantastic, yet difficult to watch modern classics in my mind. But I certainly prefer the 2007 American remake.
Eddie Strait
The thing that compelled me to suggest Funny Games for this month’s theme is the Michael Haneke of it all. We’ve seen plenty of shot-for-shot remakes before, but it’s not often we see one by the director of the original. And it’s really not often that we see a director of Haneke’s status double dip.
There’s only one place to start and that’s with the movie’s signature scene. It’s the moment when the murderous ne’er-do-wells finally get a bit of comeuppance when one of them gets shotgun blasted by Naomi Watts’ character, only for the other one to pick up a TV remote control and rewind the action, thus stealing the only victorious moment for the protagonists. It’s the moment where the film shifts from an exercise in sadism to something more insidious. It’s a provocation wherein Haneke forces viewers to reckon with the nature of cinematic violence. Every violent act committed against the protagonists works to lull the audience in and break them down to the point where all anyone wants is to see the smug, generically handsome villains get what they’ve got coming.
Funny Games is such a thumb-in-the-eye to viewers that Haneke remaking the film in English and not changing anything makes the film’s existence a great prank in and of itself. It’s like when someone tells you a joke and doesn’t get the reaction they want, so they repeat the joke. The gall. The nerve. The chutzpah. That’s what makes me favor the 2007 version over the 1997 one despite the two films being so similar. All these years later I can’t say I’m any closer to liking Funny Games, I’m more fascinated by it than I’ve ever been.
This Month: Revenge of the Remakes
All month, we are celebrating spooky season with something a little different. Our staff chose some remakes that we enjoy as much or more than the originals. Each week, one of us will plead our case and we’d love to have you chime in to tell us if you think we’re crazy or we have a point. Or just chime in to share your thoughts on the film! See you nest week!
