Sites we will never want to go to because of Haneke
The Prince of Asturias awards are allowed from time to time some improper speed of their aspirations (type reward Xavi and Iker Casillas shortly after doing the same with the entire Spanish football team) but sometimes they give us a joy of those that we solve the week; rewarding Haneke has been one of the biggest.
Nobody would want to live or visit a Haneke movie but they are the ones that best illuminate our existence, besides functioning as a slap when we are half asleep: It's not something nice, but espabila. Behind this rude metaphor where there is, there is a deep admiration for the talent of the director able to sublimate the discomfort and at the same time remain oblivious to any sentimentalloid concession; so cold and accurate that it makes us think that we are watching truth filmed while constantly reflecting on the very equivocal nature of filming and the dangers of the screens. Never obvious, never complacent, never harmless, expert in long sequence shots that become unbearable, some websites rate their films under the hint and very successful concept "uncomfortable viewing", which we translate as "disturbing viewing." Because that is what it means, to break the peace and provoke something true in our accommodating heads of resigned bourgeoisie.
The scenarios chosen to tell their stories are the same as their existence: fundamentally Vienna and Paris. In Vienna is where interiors are shown in different degrees of suffocation chaired by televisions of those who phagocyte their inhabitants a bit like in a more realistic and intellectual version of Poltergeist. “The reason for this absurd killing is totally incomprehensible,” the news broadcasts on 71 fragments of a random chronology the same way speaking of the Balkan conflict as of the protagonist's drama by throwing shots through the streets of Vienna; in Benny's video the indifference that the pantallil theme causes reaches its maximum expression, and in The pianist the theaters and stages of one of the world capitals of music they wrap Isabelle Huppert in a state of grace.
The escape from the city does not bring any relief, see the post-apocalyptic nature of The wolf's time (and those train tracks, alas) or the seemingly idyllic lake of Funny games (either in its first Austrian version or in the American remake shot on Long Island); here Haneke shows a violence that has nothing to do with that shown by Hollywood: without frivolities or ornaments and seasoned with those ruptures of the fourth wall that take discomfort to a new level. In the multipremiada White ribbon, shot in real Brandenburg stages, the German village appears almost beautiful filmed in black and white and with the characters wearing period costumes; but in this polysemic fable the horror that cannot be named is hidden in the heart of the pre-World War I Europe.
It is almost impossible to shoot in Paris and the city is ugly, but as with Haneke it is never about beauty or lack thereof, the city is another distressing scenario of interwoven stories in Unknown code, film specialist in showing the daily horror of that with which it is transmitted, for example, in the subway cars.
We already talk about Amour here, a film in which Paris is barely showing us on a short bus trip; is Cache the one that deserves a separate treatment because the two most important houses that appear in it give for a whole geosocial study. The exact location of the house recorded on the mysterious tapes that begin the film is in the 49 de Rue Brillat-Savarin (Look for it in Google Streetview, there it is perfectly recognizable with its ivy, and we still don't understand how its inhabitants can live there without chills); while his antagonist lives in an anonymous block of flats located in the Avenue Lénine with Rue Normandie-Niémen, in Romainville, a suburb of Paris. A house is a beautiful house in the slightly bohemian neighborhood of Butte-aux-Cailles, while the other is a humble apartment in a Parisian suburb; the difference between both neighborhoods and both houses highlights the destinies that the characters followed after an ambiguous childhood episode. In the end, guilt leads to destruction wherever it is.