Yesterday afternoon I watched Michael Haneke's The Piano Teacher (2001) for the first time, and, to be honest, I was glad to have a fast-forward button within reach. Haneke's films (or at least the four I've seen) are all meticulous in their trangressions. They make violence sudden and horrific, deflating the sadistic and voyeuristic thrills that typically make the cinema (and network TV) so "entertaining." Haneke's work is "intellectual" in the best sense of the word. His narrative films, in fact, creep close to the territory of "essay," but, like all good tellers of moral fables, he understands the power of narrative tension. He makes intense thrillers about bourgeois intellectuals for bourgeois intellectuals, and god bless him for it.
But, as I was saying, I found myself fast-forwarding yesterday afternoon and, even while doing so, I wondered what effect it would have on my viewing. Was I betraying the filmmaker/viewer contract in some fundamental way? Was I proving the point of Haneke's argument (muddied though it is) about sexual fantasy and our sexualized desire for control and submission? Or was this simply an instance in which Haneke's film fails on some formal level? Given my experience with his other work, I suspect that all three questions could honestly be answered "yes."
Five Films That Should Not Be Fast-Forwarded Through
(No Matter How Badly You Might Want To)
Trouble Every Day (Dir. Claire Denis) -- Joanna was disturbed by this film and she was in another room, able only to hear it. The gore here, while serving metaphorically, also colors the relationships with doom and melancholy. There's something almost Macbeth-like about the blood.
The Tarkovsky Long Take -- Any number of examples would apply: the drive in Solaris, the ride into the Zone in Stalker, the candle scenes in Nostalghia, the long pan over a battle in Andrei Rublev. Tarkovsky's films work because of the rhythm within a single take. No fast-forwarding allowed.
The River (dir. Tsai Ming-liang) -- I'm not sure why I'm so willing to give Tsai the benefit of the doubt. The truth is that I prefer his films when they're less explicit. But The River somehow needs that scene (if you've seen it, you know the one I'm talking about; if you haven't, I'm sure not going to spoil it for you). In this film about an unexplained and painful sickness (one ripe for socio-psychological-spiritual interpretation), Lee Kang-sheng's performance is like the cinematic equivalent of Artaud's "Theater of Cruelty."
A Taste of Cherry (dir. Abbas Kiarostami) -- Let your mind wander, drift off, even nap if you must, but don't fast-forward through Kiarostami's extreme long shots of cars and people zig-zagging through the landscape. I still haven't found the right vocabulary to describe this, but I'm convinced that somehow the boredom is essential. Consider it a form of meditation.
Battle in Heaven (dir. Carlos Reygadas) -- Reygadas's follow-up to Japon (another potential fast-forward victim, by the way) has been on my mind lately as I've begun thinking about that year-end best list. Except for one shot, which I would gladly have done without, I was happy to be trapped in a theater for this film. Reygadas's style is polarizing, certainly, but he seemed in such control of the material that I soon found myself surrendering my trust to him. The film is quite a character study.
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