Review of Caché (2005) by Alfin N — 29 May 2010

The opening shot of "Cache" shows an upscale Parisian apartment, partly obscured by shrubbery and parked cars. Our point of view comes from across the street in what we can only guess is a narrow alleyway. Occasionally, cars and bikers pass by, oblivious to the still camera. It is a pleasant shot on a beautiful, spring day. It is also a threat.

That's right. A threat. It is a recording that will be made into a videotape. The tape will be placed on the apartment owners' front porch. They will find it on their porch and watch the footage. They will call it a sick joke. Boy, are they wrong.

Thus begins Michael Haneke's "Cache," a film of brilliant direction and skin-crawling uncertainty. There is a stalker behind that opening shot. Who is it? Why won't they stop? What do they want? These questions baffle the apartment owners Georges and Anne Laurent.

The tapes don't stop. Some are wrapped in disturbing drawings. Childlike drawings. Crayoned in bloodred. Well, they have a child. Needless to say, no one is laughing now. The threats unravel the narrative, which moves from scene to scene with urgent necessity and slow deliberation.

Director Haneke is not afraid of filming a scene that lasts four minutes, in which the camera never moves and nothing really occurs. Boring, you say? Not at all. I found every second of these long stills to be absolutely fascinating. All my senses perked up like a dog's, straining to hear the slightest breath of the stalker or detect any subtle changes in the background. Sometimes I did. Was my mind playing tricks on me? Perhaps it is better not to know...

But this film encompasses far more than just a stalker on the loose. Of course, this external threat is the impetus for the suspenseful narrative. But, more importantly, there are hostilities working within as well. Guilt is a terrible thing. Like a blood-sucking tick, it cares and clings to one thing only: the individual whose actions conflicted against their morals. The husband is a man with a secret. He may or may not feel guilty. He may or may not have done anything at all. His past may or may not have finally caught up with him.

"Cache" is, indeed, suspenseful. Not in a heart-pounding imminent jolt way, but the very real, this-could-actually-happen-to-me way. There are no supernatural forces at work here. Stalkers walk among us. Is it really inconceivable that there might be someone watching you right now? Following you? Intending to hurt you?

Look carefully and you will notice how stubborn the camera is in every scene. It is reluctant to move. It likes to sit and let you stare. Maybe it is staring at the family. Maybe at you. It is frighteningly deliberate. Every shot compels us to question whether this is Haneke simply filming or a more sinister force at work. The ambiguity is thrilling.

The acting is top-notch. These are very fine actors here. They don't force anything. Their tears are not fake. Everyone is restrained, ready to burst a rainbow of emotions. In this film, we often see two characters speaking, whether that be a mother to a son, a husband to a wife, even a stranger to a stranger. They are very rich scenes that allow us to know the depths of these characters even as they hide so much.

And "hidden" is the keyword here. Cache is the French word for hidden. How peculiar it is that cache also denotes a storage of things, a hoarding of something precious? Does guilt not fall into that category?

Some may be irritated by the film's ending. I find it brilliant. Personally, I am so sick and tired of films that end with cliched resolutions, wrapped up and tied like cute little Christmas presents, only to be forgotten after exiting the theatre. I promise you will not forget this ending. I dare you to even call it an ending. My only advice: look closely. There are may or not be something there. Look very closely....