The White Ribbon

As visually beautiful as it is emotionally ugly, Michael Haneke’s latest provocation dazzles the eye in luminous black & white and haunts the mind with its shades of darkness.  The film conjures innumerable cinematic associations, but none more so than Village of the Damned.  (Ordet and Diabolique are two more that leap to mind, not to mention plenty of Bergman, with pictorial allusions to Millet and August Sander as well.)  Here the afflicted village is in Germany just before the start of World War I, a patriarchal society gone grievously wrong, where baron and steward, pastor and doctor, all abuse their power within the family and social structure.  The title refers to a symbol like the Scarlet Letter, which the pastor ties to his teenage son and daughter, to remind them of their sins and the purity they have lost.  While the men in power indulge their appetites, the mothers and children under their sway are hardly paragons of innocence.  Though the film makes it purposefully hard to sort out the large families that constitute the larger family of the self-contained village, or any firm resolution of the mysterious crime spree it suffers, the larger story of male abuse of power and the perverted revenge of its victims comes through clearly enough.  The acting of the large ensemble is consistently effective, especially the children, and a mood of quiet domestic horror is sustained throughout.  The one sympathetic, though possibly clueless, male character is the teacher, who narrates the film as an older man, while his younger self provides the film’s lighter moments in his courtship of a shy young maid.  Haneke’s mission is always to unsettle the audience, but here he offers a lovely visual antidote or counterpoint to his dark vision of human nature.  He demands attention but rewards it.  (2009, dvd)  *7*  (MC-82)