THE SEVENTH CONTINENT (Der Siebente Kontinent) B-
Austria (104 mi) 1989
d: Michael Haneke
In the beginning, was Haneke already making Haneke
films? Not exactly. Drawing upon the model of Fassbinder’s WHY
DOES HERR R. RUN AMOK? (1970), including similar dissatisfaction expressed in Edward
Yang’s The
Terrorizers (Kong bu fen zi) (1986), Haneke based his treatise on middle
class discontent from events taking place in real life, from a story he read in
a newspaper, trying to de-dramatize the monotony of ordinary life, making it as
unglamorous as possible, where people are going through the motions, subjected
to the constant noise coming from an everpresent radio and television, that
appears to be blabbing away in the corner of the room like an unidentified
member of the family who won’t shut up, where after a while one tunes it out
and becomes numb to the effects of daily living. A minimalist exercise of anti-theater, Haneke meticulously
establishes the ordinary rhythms of daily routines, constantly repeating the
same habits, finding little satisfaction or meaning in existence, becoming
alienated from the world at large. His
parents a theater director and his leading actress, Haneke was raised by one of
his aunts in a working class suburb of Vienna, a budding concert pianist whose
career never materialized, studying philosophy at the University of Wien in
Vienna, but starting his career as a regional newspaper film and literary
critic while also working as a theater director before working as a
writer/director in television, showing a penchant for Bressonian-style isolated
individuals and understated relationships.
Coming from the European school of Antonioni, Bresson, Pasolini, and
even Chantal Akerman, in particular the cage-like prison effect of repetitive
motions in Jeanne
Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce,1080 Bruxelles (1975), (Michael
Haneke, the director’s 2002 Sight
& Sound poll vote for greatest overall Top Ten films), finding
expression for the soul-crushing bleakness of modern detachment, it’s as if
something is compelling Haneke’s characters to behave in a disturbing manner,
forced to act against their own interests, set off by vague circumstances that
remain ambiguous or anonymous, yet hold an unusual power over them, where they
can’t break free from the insidious control.
Chosen to play at Director’s Fortnight at Cannes, the film was also
selected as Austria’s official submission in the best foreign language film
category, with Haneke and his fellow Austrian director Ulrich Seidl both promoting
austere themes of Austrian miserablism, where the middle class is stifled by
their obligatory duty to work, which instead of bringing perceived benefits of
pleasure find them bogged down into circular habits of monotonous routine,
where their inner life spirit is simply sucked right out of them, leaving them
empty shells of who they used to be, little more than walking ghosts. Nothing could be clearer in the opening few
moments of this film, which examines a modern family, including scenes at the
breakfast table, but their faces aren’t even seen in the opening ten or fifteen
minutes, clouding them in anonymity and general disinterest, instead focusing
on inanimate objects, such as a digital alarm clock, a pair of red slippers, shoelaces,
a door handle, a fish tank, a bowl of cereal, an electric garage door, or the
windshield of the car. When we do
finally meet them, there is nothing at all that stands out, as they couldn’t be
more ordinary and non-descript.
Shown in three parts, the first two are identified as 1987 and
1988, each depicting a typical day in their lives, showing the degree of
discomfort leading such insulated lives, separated and cut off from the rest of
the world, leaving them friendless and alone.
Shot in drab colors, with any sense of brightness drained completely out
of the screen, it’s almost as if they lead their lives in darkness, where the
constant pressure of an all-consuming night is pushing into their daily
existence, threatening to extinguish all light.
With the credits rolling before the start, the film is about Georg
(Dieter Berner), his wife Anna (Birgit Doll) and their daughter Eva (Leni
Tanzer) over a period of three years.
The first image is seen from inside the car in an automated car wash, playing
out in real time, where time is all but suspended, at least for the moment, as movements
are entirely restricted, suggesting a self-imposed claustrophobic imprisonment,
a recurring metaphor that repeats throughout the film, contrasted by a colorful
billboard outside the car wash that advertises Australia as a tourist
destination. In an era before the
Internet, people routinely communicated long distance through letters. In the beginning of the first two segments,
Anna is heard reading a letter to the husband’s parents informing them of his
great success at work as an engineer, while also identifying an anxious-ridden
boss who fears Georg may threaten his position.
By the second year, Georg has assumed the boss’s position, seen treating
the former boss coldly when he comes to collect his possessions, suggesting an
unspoken cruelty. Anna works as an
optician, where there’s a particularly graphic scene examining an elderly
woman’s eye, the lids manipulated and distorted beyond belief, shown in
excruciating detail, all but expecting the horrible presence of Buñuel’s razor from
UN CHIEN ANDALOU (1929). Perhaps
expectedly, due to her mother’s profession, Eva pretends to be blind one day at
school, examined by a teacher who quickly outsmarts the girl, discovering it’s
all an act. Discussing it later at home,
Anna promises not to hurt her if she tells the truth, but then surprises her
with a hard smack in the face. Even as
the family goes grocery shopping, with the aisles of food shown in great
detail, yet the faces of the protagonists are noticeably missing. None of the characters distinguish
themselves, nor are they particularly sympathetic, though Birgit Doll is a
stand-out performer, showing exemplary control, yet still expressing an inner
emotional involvement that viewers can recognize and understand. Clearly she loves her daughter, affectionately
putting her to bed each night, but even this becomes a ritual over time,
drained of all meaning. One random
incident seems to have a heavy impact, as they are driving along a
rain-drenched highway one night, but traffic is backed up, as heavy machinery
is removing a car twisted and contorted into a mangled shape, but dead bodies
can be seen lying under a protective tarp, creating an ominous mood of
impending dread. Another car wash scene
has the whole family inside, but this time Anna breaks into uncontrollable
tears for no particular reason. This
brief wordless moment is one of the few overtly recognizable signs of
unhappiness.
With the film described as Part 1 of Haneke’s “emotional
glaciation” Trilogy, originally conceived for television, the overall mood of
gloom and doom only escalates in the final segment, with many concluding Haneke
is an anti-humanist, as his dour outlook appears so fatalistic. But this is only his first film, so it’s much
too early to draw such definitive conclusions.
In one of the few scenes shot in sunshine, the family is seen leaving a
visit to Georg’s parents, where they can be seen waving as the family drives
away. In something of a surprise, it’s
Georg reading the follow-up letter to his parents, informing them he has quit
his job before getting into even more dire suggestions, all of which suggest
they have decided “to leave.” This feels
like a major shift, as though they may be moving, perhaps to Australia, though
implications remain unclear, growing morbidly humorous as we see Georg stock up
on heavy-duty hardware items like an axe, a sledgehammer, a saw, and
scissors. Things grow even more
mysterious when they withdraw all their money out of the bank, and then decide
to sell their car to a junkyard. This
includes one of the more memorable scenes of the film, as Eva is standing off
to the side by herself watching a nighttime riverboat pass by illuminated by
lights, suggesting a kind of idyllic reverie, yet the abrupt music heard briefly
is a wildly atonal Alban Berg violin concerto, The Seventh Continent
- the scene at the car lot YouTube
(2:22), interrupting what might be interpreted as a child’s dreamlike
imaginations, reminiscent of Bresson’s brilliantly colorful Four
Nights of a Dreamer (Quatre nuits d'un rêveur... (1971), or it may simply
be a boat passing by, which in true Haneke fashion is never explained,
remaining hauntingly ambiguous. Returning
home in a taxi, a food delivery truck has left behind a gourmet feast,
including multiple bottles of champagne, where they gorge on what amounts to a Buñuelian
“Last Supper,” splurging in high style. In
another voice over, Georg suggests they were worried about what to do with
their daughter Eva, whether to take her or not, ultimately deciding she showed
no fear of death, becoming a last letter left behind, continuing to talk over an
escalation of unprecedented violence that turns bat-shit crazy, becoming
humorous in the dedicated workmanlike manner in which it is done, coldly and
calculating, tearing their home apart piece by piece, closing the blinds,
demolishing all furniture, cutting up and ripping their perfectly folded clothes
to shreds, scattering broken glass all over the floor, leaving behind nothing
but a mess of scattered debris. Reflective of the Haneke methodology, this is
shown in a very precise and controlled aesthetic that minimizes cutting and
camera movement, including a lengthy shot of ripping up their remaining
currency and flushing it down the toilet.
Some have compared this violent frenzy to the spontaneous explosion at
the end of Zabriskie
Point (1970), the difference being just how methodical it is, given plenty
of forethought, like digging their own graves, using the same planned methodology
as the mind-numbing routines they carry out each day. What follows is a nihilistic drift into the
void, each taking an overdose of sedatives, sparing one lone television screen
that serenades their macabre journey into the afterlife, accompanied by the
evening’s entertainment, Jennifer
Rush - The Power Of Love (Official Video) - YouTube (4:57), a melodramatic
love song that is almost laughable, with the lyrics adding an ironic twist,
having lost all meaning whatsoever. Because
so little is learned about the protagonist family, any motive for ending it all
is just as absent in this film, leaving viewers perplexed, perhaps serving as
shock therapy for remaining complacent.
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