Pretentious movie at the cost of a great story Yet another Haneke-Movie: Provocative, pretentiously not caring about the audience's approval, the filmed story of Jelinek's "Pianiste". Prettily decorated, or maybe contemporarily equipped, with all sorts of "shocking" scenes played by Isabelle Huppert (who's mostly not a bad actress) with two or three faces. Yes, Erika is frosty and frustrated, but is there actually only one color for that ? Somehow this one-dimensional coldness must be hip in Cannes right now; otherwise I can't understand the laurels the movie received, neither for the film nor its actress.
That's unfortunate, because the theme of the movie is very interesting and truly contemporary: fed-up Austrians, somehow also a mental corner of Germany's correct, efficient society, cultivate art without being touched by it. Sensitivity, stay outside! This over-ambitious system creates a hysterical mother who pushes her daughter further into this system. There's hardly any place for free emotions, not to mention intimacy or sexuality.
But just like in any artwork, there's not only the idea, but also the form the artist choses to portray the idea, which after all perfectly reflects his attitude. And here Haneke's filmstyle is unfortunately just as bold and cold as the society he's trying to portray. There are the additional scenes which can be interpreted this way or that way, which supposedly should "make the audience think a little" (Haneke), while one is already physically far outside the film by the accumulation of flatly directed scenes. There's the additional emphasis of Klemmer's character that makes the movie hip, but costs the believability of Erika's character, which stays very one-dimensional. Result: Très chique. I'm only surprised that so many people don't seem to notice how selfindulgent this film-technique is, thown at the audience just as boldly as Adorno quotes during a Piano recital. That's too bad; too bad for the chaos of emotions, which mostly remain invisible. (translated from German by Mary Ann Adair)