Windows on the World

Daniel Auteuil is a good, solid actor. But he’s getting to be as ubiquitous as Robert de Niro and Gerard Depardieu (his hooter is as big too) He’s undemonstrative, restrained – often remotely detached. Think I’d like to be seeing a bit less of him in future. And Juliette Binoche (too winsome)

He’s an underwhelming actor. And this is an underwhelming film. I kept waiting for it to “hit” me. But it kept underplaying and undercutting my expectations.

A couple of scenes jump out at you alarmingly, both involving the ripping of necks with sharp implements. A year from now I’ll probably still remember blood shot up the wall, spurting out.

But mostly, this is cerebral rather than visceral entertainment. Actually it’s not entertainment. It tries to not entertain you. Deliberately.

It questions conventions about watching, and being watched, and what we watch for, and why. And what we make of what we’re watching. Or what we simply don’t see. There’s lots of thinky stuff like this you could do – after the film – with a friend in the kitchen, eating toast.

But once again – and this seems to be happening too often with most of the films I’m watching – I wasn’t moved much. I like to feel charmed, or seduced, or touched in some subtle and sensitive kind of way. I don’t mean soppy sentimentality (of the kind you get rolled out on a conveyor belt of cliche-ridden uniform conformity – from you know where)

But this isn’t a warm watch.

Maybe i have to question what it is I’m bringing to my watching that makes most films feel – like this one – so bone dry, and dissatisfying.

Watch less perhaps?

Or maybe just give in to Hollywood Shmollywood! (NO!! Never!)

Dir: Michael Haneke, Austria/France

6/10

An uncomfortable watch.

Nasty men doing nasty fings to “kants”.

“You’re byoutiful you are. A byoutiful gel. Nah get in there and do them for me – go on!”

We’re in the world of pimps, prossies, pervs, and paedo’s.

Where gels are “toerags”, “scum” and “kants”. Or if they’re being especially unco-operative (like jabbing knives in paedo’s stinky bits) they’re “stoopid fackin kants”. And they gotta have their hair pulled and gobs smacked – to learn em a lesson see. Not to mess.

On the extras there’s questions to Paul Andrew Williams the director. He’s vacuously chewing gum in an orange hoodie like a clunk-headed wannabe geezer. He’s coming across as more cant than Kant. Not a lot of wisdom going on there in the old brain-box.

Listening to him confirmed what I’d thought about his film: that its technically profficient – but empty at the core. “Why am i watching a film with so much vicious abuse going on” was the thought sinking down into the pit of my feelings. I know ugly worlds like this exist. Appalling fackin shit being perpetrated every day on some poor miserable girl.

I sat there feeling shat on. And yet i sat on. Till the end. Cus the film is too well told to be let go of. The anxious awfulness of the narrative has you trapped inside its grim misery. You want to know what the horrible sordid end is.

Turns out the end is redemptive. Which is a relief but also a cop out. The director not having the real balls to see the thing thro to its terrible credible conclusion. He chickened out.

A real nasty man wouldn’t bottle it.

But then Paul Andrew Williams is not hard at all. Just pretending to be a fackin kant. Soft as shite really.

Keep chewin your gum son.

Dir: Paul Andrew Williams, England

6.5/10