While it falls behind Funny Games, The Piano Teacher, Cache, and The White Ribbon, Michael Haneke’s Time of the Wolf is certainly worth a look in that it is a phenomenal exercise in lighting as well as a rather novel take on apocalypse-film genre.
Characteristically, Haneke shoots this 2003 film with meticulous precision and strands the viewer on an ambiguous path with only a vague beginning and end. Time of the Wolf is certainly not incoherent, but the opening scene begs the question as to whether or not this film is a rendition of Funny Games, where a family is surprised and then tortured by a few twisted individuals. However, it quickly moves away from an exercise in sadism and into the realm of apocalypse films, stranding Anne Laurent (Isabelle Huppert) and her two children, Ben (Lucas Biscombe) and Eva (Anais Demoustier), in a French city where every citizens shuts the door, asking “[Do] you know what the situation is, or are you just playing dumb? Why didn’t you just stay in town?”
Every closed door increases the feeling of isolation, and the absolute reason for the shunning is rather unclear until all commodities are repeatedly referred to as “supplies,” and the news mentions “the difficulties getting supplies.” This coupled with the Laurents stumbling upon a makeshift bomb shelter transitions the film into televised waiting game for an imminent end of the world – or at least, civilization.
However, Time of the Wolf differs from a number of apocalypse films in that no apocalypse occurs. Rather, the scenes are all about the effects of the knowledge of an end. Haneke’s take on mentalities and reactions is also rather antithetical to the genre inasmuch as it defies the contemporary rhetoric. Typically, prior to the impending apocalypse – think Independence Day, Armageddon, Deep Impact, Dante’s Peak, Skyline — there is a rash of collectivity that encourages people to work together and fight the impending threat. In most post-apocalypse films – The Road, Zombieland, The Book of Eli – the previous collectivity crumbles to endemic individuality and clannish isolation, assuming that separating from the pack will add years to a life because the responsibility of survival is squarely on the individual’s shoulders.
Here, Haneke offers the opposite. The viewer is uncertain whether the end is going to be brought on by another nation, an angry god, a super virus, or outraged monkeys. Regardless, the focus is on the precarious nature of human relationships in the face of imminent destruction. Instead of encouraging the formation of a traditional collective to surpass the enemy in numbers, the potential threat of annihilation impels the dissolution of solidarity and creates a clannish independence, where strength in numbers is valued when it works in someone’s favor, but where the second and third member of a troika can easily be cut loose and used as shields if the situation calls for it.
There’s also an element of the film that looks at the value that we place on objects in a time of crisis, most notably a bicycle. While I have a feeling there is a reference here to De Sica’s The Bicycle Thief, Haneke takes the bicycle’s symbol of escape and freedom and turns it on its head, making it more of an impediment than a luxury. The bicycle belongs to Anne, but she can’t very well use it without leaving behind her two children. And while it provides the illusion for escape, it would prove to be ineffective given that most others are trying to evacuate via train, so anyone on the archaic bicycle would be left in the wake of the faster refugees. Finally, the bicycle’s illusory value, conflicting with its impracticality, renders it a valueless commodity for trade. Interestingly enough, a seemingly useless object – a watch in this case – is given high value that procures an additional gallon or two of water. Given impending doom, a timepiece seems a bit unnecessary, but perhaps its value lies in its ability to connect its owner to the traditional world. Whereas the bicycle is already anachronistic given the ubiquity of motorcars and trains, a watch forever connects humans to the establishment of time – or a constant regardless of circumstance.
Despite the wacky exploration of apocalyptic films, Time of the Wolf loses a bit of steam when the inhabitants of the bomb shelter begin waxing philosophically about whether or not they will encounter “one of the Just,” a group of 36 that “guarantee [life] will continue, that God’s hand will protect us.” There’s little inherently wrong with exploring religious rhetoric in the face of death, but it gets a touch heavy-handed, particularly when it’s placed in contrast with another group of chosen ones: “the Brothers of Fire.”
There’s also a rather melodramatic scene that pits a husband and wife against each other, offering various restatements of “[compassion] is a luxury I can’t afford.” While poignant, and certainly relevant to the content of the film, the soundtrackless documentation of people’s actions throughout the film and the majority of the crowd’s indifference to death illustrates this quite nicely.
Despite a few snags, Michael Haneke once again presents a Hitchcockian tale that doesn’t resort to graphic violence or shock value to frighten an audience. The premise itself is enough to send shivers up a spine.
