Das Weisse Band (2009)

Directed by: Michael Haneke | 144 minutes | drama, war | Actors: Ulrich Tukur, Susanne Lothar, Josef Bierbichler, Mercedes Jadea Diaz, Burghart Klaußner, Marisa Growaldt, Leonie Benesch, Rainer Bock, Michael Kranz, Thibault Sérié, Christian Friedel, Sebastian Hülk, Janina Fautz, Steffi Kühnert, Leonard Proxauf, Michael Schenk Lilli Trebs, Theo Trebs, Ursina Lardi, Vincent Krüger, Kai-Peter Malina, Maria-Victoria Dragus, Enno Trebs, Leonard Boes, Marvin Ray Spey, Anne-Kathrin Gummich, Paraschiva Dragus, Hanus Polak Jr., Sara Schivazappa, Felix Boettcher, Levin Henning, Ole Joensson, Aaron Denkel

Michael Haneke’s new winner of the Golden Palm at Cannes, ‘Das Weiße Band’, is, like much of the director’s work, not a film that you take in between, slumped on the couch. Haneke does not make standard entertainment and his films almost never take place in his own constructed world. Typically, his films refer to a larger context in our world – current events, trends, or features of the “human condition” – and his films are therefore best appreciated when this context is considered. In the case of ‘Das Weiße Band’, this is almost a precondition for a positive appreciation of the film. Haneke does not want to suggest direct, causal links between the behaviors and mentalities shown in this film and the later rise of fascism, but he does try to expose the roots of these.

The children in ‘Das Weiße Band’ – the subtitle of the film reads: “a German children’s story” – are the generation who, just under three decades later, will witness or even carry out the horrors of Nazi Germany in World War II, and Haneke examines in this film what the conditions for such criminal behavior – of an executioner or someone who just averts their eyes – could be. And by setting the story in a rural setting and setting it almost a hundred years ago, the character traits take on something universal. The film also works well as a general parable about the dangers of a rigid, punishment-based upbringing, the blind approval of abuses within a community, the hypocrisy of bottled up or ignoring the (own) sins of adults. As a reflection on a theme, the film is effective, but less so as a standalone film or the development of independent stories. The film follows different families, in which extremely interesting problems and tension always occur, but there is just too much switching between perspectives and too little focus on a single case to really let these issues enter the viewer’s mind. For example, if Haneke had focused on the Spartan-raised family of the bishop, whose children are whipped and tied with a white ribbon to remind them of the innocence and morality they must pursue, and briefly other questionable tendencies in other families and the rest of the community to endorse the universality of this kind of practice, the viewer would have the chance to bond with those involved and really take the abuses in an intense way. Now it often remains a somewhat clinical, analytical exercise by Haneke, in which arguments come out well, but keeps the viewer too far at a distance.

Still, there are scenes that do make an impression. Like when the doctor and his nanny/mistress, after having let all emotions slumber under the skin for years, finally spew their bile at each other. It would be euphemistic to say he calls her dirty. Swearing doesn’t hurt, they say, but the viewer feels the razor-sharp words go deeper into his skin with every sentence he utters. When he asks if she isn’t finally leaving (after all those words) and if she asks if she has no sense of honour, she tells him that she doesn’t have that luxury with a man like him. As the only adequate defense she says she has to take care of two handicapped children, of which the doctor is the worst. Furthermore, surprisingly, given the usual misanthropic tendencies of Haneke’s films, there are glimmers of humanity and innocence in the film. To start with in the form of a son of the doctor and one of the bishop. The first, in a touching scene, asks an older daughter exactly what death is, and the second knows a few times (almost) to penetrate the bishop’s cool, rough exterior with his sweet demeanor – for example, when he sees a self-found bird. offers to his father to keep him company, and so make him less sad at the death of his own dead bird. Furthermore, the narrator of the story is the young teacher who courts the Baron’s young (new) nanny. These semi-romantic episodes form a welcome contrast to the cool events surrounding them.

‘Das Weiße Band’ is practically perfect from a film perspective, with beautiful black and white images, and an extraordinary representation of this time and place in Germany. This rural village – in its deadness – comes to life in an ultimate way. The cinematography and directing choices are also extremely catchy, with crucial events that take place behind closed doors or around a corner and beautifully held silences and long takes. It is only somewhat regrettable that the whole sometimes feels so clinical, so that as a viewer you start to feel the long duration of the film. Still, with a film like this it pays to watch it several times. Then scenes fall into place even better and symbolism finds its elaboration better. A movie to work on, then.