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‘Funny Games’ vs. ‘Funny Games’ – One of the Most Curious Remake Experiments of Them All

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Funny Games remake
Pictured: 'Funny Games' (2007)

Watching two Michael Haneke features back-to-back doesn’t sound all that outrageous, right? What if they’re Funny Games (1997) and Funny Games (2007)? You start with one of the more disturbing flicks in Criterion’s closet, then immediately follow it with an American shot-for-shot remake that relives the same nightmare. My inner masochist couldn’t skip on tackling one of the stranger entries into Revenge of the Remakes, as two equally competent home invasion thrillers played out like a case of knife-twisting déjà vu.

Haneke jumped at the chance to make an American version of his Austrian commentary on the media’s exploitation of violence. Why wouldn’t he? A proud filmmaker saw an opportunity to help his bundle of anti-joy reach a wider audience, only made more relevant by the popularized 2000s period in horror history with “torture porn” leading the charge. Although, does shooting the exact storyboards like they’d been shipped overseas classify as a good remake? Haneke’s involvement is the trump card, because we’ve all seen what happens when a lesser filmmaker takes someone else’s script and creates something inferior (cough cough Cabin Fever cough cough).


The Approach

‘Funny Games’ (1997)

It’s the same. From the overhead highway opener to the closing hold on a deviant murderer staring back at the camera as a freeze frame. Avant-garde musical rebels Naked City get to hear their song “Bonehead” reused over the credits. There’s so little altered outside maybe how many pounds of steak are thawed (“three” versus “four,” curse our American greed)? Otherwise, Haneke doesn’t see any weakness in his wall-breaking narrative. Bless a filmmaker with the confidence not to question a single choice they once made, essentially insisting a movie so stupendous doesn’t require second guesses.

The queen of American horror remakes Naomi Watts and Tim Roth star as Ann and George Farber, doomed vacationers heading to their lake house with son Georgie (Devon Gearhart). Stepping in as the film’s vile torturers in snow-white collared shirts are Brady Corbet as Peter and Michael Pitt as Paul. If you’ve seen 1997’s original, you know what transpires because it’s copied and pasted like clip art. Peter and Paul ask the Farbers for eggs, their request turns out to be a ruse, and they spend the movie holding them hostage until a teased execution deadline. Before “Because you were home,” there was “Why not” — all we can do is voyeuristically watch as coincidental torment unfolds.

It’s a complex analysis because Funny Games goes against everything I believe about remakes. I’m always harping on filmmakers to find their voice while paying respect to someone else’s source material — but that’s not Haneke’s objective. It’s said that Funny Games (1997) might have been intended to be an English film from the start, then thwarted by budgetary issues. Funny Games (2007) allowed Haneke a second chance to see his first intentions become a reality, using the same blocking, frame selections, and props where possible. Haneke agrees that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it — down to a hungry dog trying to raid an open refrigerator.


Does It Work?

Funny Games remake naomi watts

‘Funny Games’ (2007)

As an identical sibling film born a decade later? Yes, Funny Games (2007) is a well-acted psychopath’s getaway that generates all the same icky-awful feelings as Funny Games (1997). Haneke speaks directly to American audiences through Paul, keeping the metatextual commentaries about how we’re participants in the violence on screen. Everything about Funny Games (1997) works in Funny Games (2007) because Haneke chooses a path of meticulous replication. As a standalone, Funny Games (2007) successfully duplicates the agony, dismay, and delirium that stems from a movie that boasts its bleakness like a hole-in-one.

As a remake, Funny Games (2007) feels like a redundant experience for those who’ve already seen Hanake’s foreign-language shocker. There’s nothing to analyze beyond performances and dog breeds when watched in tandem, which becomes a question of tastes. Chances are, whichever you watch first will be your favorite because the following film will feel like cycling through repetitively morbid motions. Haneke cannibalizes his own market by trying to expand the story’s reach, which is still the right move considering how many Americans won’t “ruin” their movie experiences with subtitles.

Can you sense the conflict swirling in my head like a cyclone? Usually, I’d have all these comparison points about changes that either misrepresent or improve between sources and remakes — but Haneke does his damndest to leave no pebble out of place. Production took place mainly in Long Island, New York, which barely gives the “update” more of a wealthy American hideaway atmosphere. Still, besides some new driveway layouts and other minimal architectural differences, Haneke stays militant in his recreation. It works as an American version of an Austrian sensation that doesn’t skip a beat but feels needless if watched immediately after the original because there are no profound exploratory possibilities between either edition.


The Result

Funny Games remake tim roth

‘Funny Games’ (2007)

Funny Games (2007) is Haneke doing what he does best — again. Darius Khondji’s cinematography is merely crisper while reshooting the same angles with presumably better cameras (90s vs. 00s technology). It’s easier for English-language audiences to embrace a narrative without subtitles, but dialogue is nearly uttered word-for-word. Haneke avoids a situation like [REC] vs. Quarantine where Americanization fails the translation of international horror to stateside theaters, but possibly creates a new one that will frustrate fans of his first Funny Games ten years prior.

Performances from the English-language cast are the one aspect that helps set Haneke’s despicable exploitation apart and offer slim variations. Roth’s George isn’t a vocal screamer like Ulrich Mühe’s Georg Schober, bringing a broken quietness most appreciated after the whole sandwich-making distraction reveals its outcome. Watts matches Susanne Lothar’s Anna Schober, whether frustration or panic, paying homage to the original’s actress with chameleon abilities. Then there’s Corbet and Pitt finding more of a temperate threat level against original villain actors Arno Frisch and Frank Giering, likely to be welcomed into a residence due to their All-American appeal. Although, Pitt doesn’t play as coy when he talks into the camera during the fourth wall breaks, which has a fraction less fun with the twist — only super noticeable when compared side by side.

Neither is better. Both are successful as analytical presentations of violence to draw attention to our society’s sickest viewing habits. Both families endure the same unspeakable trauma, yet actors find borderline microscopic ways to make their performances their own. Haneke keeps the essence of his narrative pure in both versions, showing no desire to question his authority on the topic. The result is a rather impressive mimicry, for better and worse depending on your experience watching one Funny Games, or both, and how spaced apart you set your viewings.


The Lesson

Funny Games remake haneke

‘Funny Games’ (2007)

I feel like I’m J.K. Simmons in Burn After Reading. “What did we learn here, Palmer? I don’t fuckin’ know either.” Month after month, I ramble on about how the best remakes manifest respectful reinvention. The point of a remake shouldn’t be to duplicate — and yet Haneke does just that for understandable reasons. Should more forgiveness be issued because the same filmmaker can cash in on an expanded market take that gives him access to new audiences? Again, “I don’t fuckin’ know either.” All I do know is Funny Games (2007) breaks my usual rules, and while it’s a worthless double-bill, isn’t wrong for its approach?

So what did we learn?

● Michael Haneke took full advantage of a situation few international filmmakers are given.

● Rules are meant to be broken every once in a blue moon, and Funny Games (2007) is a rare positive example of remake mimicry.

● Violent commentary against the media is unsettling in any language.

● You don’t have to teach an old dog new tricks.

Heed my warning and never watch both Funny Games movies in a row. It takes hardcore masochism to endure Funny Games (1997) and immediately chase that with the same nerve-shredding repugnance like you’ve just hit “Play Again.” There’s no reward for watching both, just a double-dip that’s oddly infuriating as the same events repeat in English. It’s the most curious experiment I’ve conducted here on Revenge of the Remakes (to date) because even the Cabin Fever ditto showcase a transparent quality dropoff. I’m baffled, annoyed, and enamored by Haneke’s ability to reshoot that same flippin’ movie, which I’ll never watch together again, but wholly defend as separate entities.


In Revenge of the Remakes, columnist Matt Donato takes us on a journey through the world of horror remakes. We all complain about Hollywood’s lack of originality whenever studios announce new remakes, reboots, and reimaginings, but the reality? Far more positive examples of refurbished classics and updated legacies exist than you’re willing to remember (or admit). The good, the bad, the unnecessary – Matt’s recounting them all.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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