Review by Matthew Lucas: Compared to “Funny Games,” “The Piano Teacher” and “Caché,” Michael Haneke's latest, a Palme D'Or winner, appears to be his most accessible. But "accessible" for Haneke is a relative term. While “The White Ribbon” may not be as blatantly nihilistic and sadistic as “Funny Games,” it still features what has become Haneke's trademark austerity. Shot in the starkly beautiful black and white of a world slowly losing its soul, “The White Ribbon” takes place in a small German village just after World War I. It's a quiet little village, deeply religious, and preoccupied with its simple farming lifestyle. But a mysterious string of seemingly random violent acts puts inhabitants in a state of unease. A man is ripped from his bicycle by a wire strung across the road. A barn is lit on fire. A mentally disabled child is maliciously attacked and sexually assaulted. The air of creeping dread that begins to overtake the town permeates every frame of the film, and the place is soon consumed by fear and paranoia caused by an unseen assailant.

Haneke mostly observes the secluded town and its routines between events. We see the local preacher tying his young son's hands to his bed to prevent him from masturbating and "giving into sin." We see the tentative beginnings of young love, once again thwarted by circumstance and strict tradition. A great deal lies buried beneath the surface, hidden behind a veil of piety and custom. By the time the true culprit is revealed, the effect is deeply unsettling. True to form, Haneke never spells out a specific perpetrator, leaving much open to interpretation. “The White Ribbon” is a film of ambiguity and nuance but its conclusion, while open-ended, leaves us with a strong and unshakable understanding of a world about to face profound change. The film takes its title from the white ribbon that the preacher's wife ties around the arms of her children as a punishment and reminder of their wrongdoings. As such, Haneke's latest is a deeply disconcerting meditation on the social and sexual repression that fosters deep-seated anger and resentment in an entire generation—one that eventually leads to the organized hate and systematic murder committed by the Nazis. Haneke isn't trying to locate a single explanation for the Holocaust here; “The White Ribbon” is an exploration of the roots of general evil, a look at how and why the seeds of hate are planted in the hearts and minds of the young.

The haunting black-and-white cinematography enhances the impression that we're watching some sort of contemporary portrait of these people, like an old photograph of folks long forgotten. People never seem to smile in those old photographs, lost to time, forever frozen with a grim countenance. So too are the characters that populate “The White Ribbon.” The adults are stern and severe, the children sullen and oppressed, any glimmer of youthful happiness soon stamped out by a strict religious regime. It's a film every bit as bleak as any other Haneke work, maybe even more so. Its chilling effect echoes into our own time, and not just as a historical curiosity. The suppression of doubt and the discouraging of healthy sexual exploration is not only wrong, it's dangerous. Haneke has made a classically minded film with decidedly modern sensibilities. Its disturbing ambiguity isn't as frustrating here as it might be in some of Haneke's other films; it enhances the movie's disconcerting effect. We know where the story is going, but Haneke never takes us there. “The White Ribbon” isn't a film of answers but questions, and one as compelling as it is fascinating to contemplate. Haneke both enthralls and repels us, luring us into a world where all feelings are buried deep beneath the quaint and idyllic surface. The pleasure is in the exploration, and “The White Ribbon” is a rich and captivating film to explore.

Last Word: As an exploration of the origins of evil, Michael Haneke’s “The White Ribbon” is a fascinating and deeply troubling film, probing the effects of paranoia, fear and social repression with a keen and penetrating eye. It’s easily Haneke’s best and most accessible work in years.

Review By:
Matthew Lucas

IN REVIEW ONLINE