I think it's safe to say that I wasn't supposed to like this film. Tammy Bannister said it best. This is a film about "an unmentionable subject." It's a film that no one knew how to promote. How do you market a film about pedophilia, told from the pedophile's point of view? This isn't a film like The Woodsman, either. It's not a compassionate portrayal of a sex offender who served their time and tries to lead a normal life outside of prison.
Instead, this film offers the ultimate example of just how very banal evil can be. Michael is an insurance executive who lives in a nondescript suburban home in Austria. He has friends, speaks to his neighbours, is friendly with workmates, has lunch with his sister, buys Christmas presents for his nephews, and goes skiing in the alps. His life is perfectly ordinary, except for the fact that he keeps an abducted 10-year-old boy in the basement.
The relationship between the two is uneasy at best, and hostile at worst. The boy plays along with Michael's apparent desire to make them look like a family, asking permission to watch television and helping to clean his room. The two even decorate a Christmas tree together. But the boy's compliance appears more akin to survival instincts than any affection for his captor. He is a strangely wise child who endures daily abuse (which all takes place off-screen) with stoicism and smoldering resentment.
I respected this film because it strikes a masterful balance between creepy and compelling. Though the story is told entirely from Michael's point of view, we're not tempted to feel compassion for him. I felt only hope that the humanity in him will eventually compel him to let the boy go. The pacing is piano-string taut, and the plot twists genuinely surprising. The acting is believably understated. And the premise allows the viewer to completely understand how something so dreadful could happen quietly in anyone's backyard.
It takes an open mind to watch Michael. I've heard several reviewers describe the director's approach to his subject as "non-judgmental." I wholeheartedly disagree. One of the signs of an accomplished filmmaker is the ability to show rather than tell. And images in this film speak volumes: browned ham on a plate, instant mashed potatoes on the boy's shelf, shutters that conceal all exterior light, foam glued to the door as soundproofing, and a TV propped up on a plastic chair.
I don't believe we need to be told that something is wrong in order to understand that it is. I think one would be hard-pressed to come away from this film with anything but revulsion for the protagonist and compassion for the boy. And in revealing the rarely-told perspective of a reprehensible character, the filmmakers do something very brave indeed.
Am thoroughly enjoying this vicarious experience of VIFF, Raincity Observer!...
ReplyDeleteDirector Markus Schleinzer has said that the man in this film must be considered a human not a monster, and that denying him his humanity prevents us from confronting offenders, and possible ourselves. You redirect suggestions that the director's approach is non-judgemental, saying we don't need to be told that something is wrong in order to understand that it is. How do you think Schleinzer's aim (to allow us to confront offenders as humans) is served by showing rather than telling? I haven't seen the film, but it seems that, rather than outlining a more clear condemnation, he is offering the minutiae of the man and boy's life. I think you're likely right that this film "offers the ultimate example of just how very banal evil can be," but identifying this man such has the potential to obscure him if we understand "the banality of evil" in the way it's usually used, especially in crimes involving children and sex: how easy it is for these criminals to hide among us. I would love you to go further with what exactly you saw in images of "the browned ham on a plate, instant mashed potatoes on the boy's shelf"...
Keep up the amazing posts pls & thx.
Thanks, RV, for your articulate comments and questions.
ReplyDeleteI think that when we label someone a monster, we immediately absolve them of a great deal of responsibility for their actions. Monsters are driven solely by instinct and uncontrollable base emotions. If we view Michael as a human being, we're forced to confront the fact that all of us are potentially capable of evil. We also need to deal with the fact that people like Michael exist, they live among us, and (unlike monsters) they may have feelings like love, responsibility, remorse, confusion, and culpability. They may be very rational in many ways, and justify their actions to themselves as all of us do every day.
Showing us that Michael leads an essentially banal life but is also perpetrating evil forces us to ask difficult questions. For instance: What separates good and evil? Can a person be inherently evil? Can they change? What are the effects of actively encouraging selfishness and self-indulgence in society? What is a family? What does it mean to protect someone?
The images from the film that I refer to are ones which I found particularly expressive despite their apparent ordinariness. The browned ham is a dinner that Michael eats with the boy - it is both the means to keep the boy alive and a way for Michael to create the appearance of a 'normal' family dinner. The irony of this meal is lost on Michael but not on the viewer. The instant mashed potatoes epitomize the boy's deprivation - while he is given the means to sustain life, the repetition of this meager convenience meal shows us just how bleak an existence it is.
In short, each image carries a great deal of weight. Michael's evil is banal not just in the way his life blends in with the rest of his neighbourhood and social sphere, but also in the way his abuse shows itself in all the smallest and seemingly ordinary details of life. One doesn't need to see images of torture, chains, and beatings to understand the profoundly negative effects of abuse and pedophilia.