From the very first, we know that a hidden story within this film will merge with the film. After 4 minutes of looking at the movie, we realize we are looking at a movie within the movie, a tape. As the film proceeds, it pretends to be an ordinary drama.
But something is amiss, and we learn it up front. The tape of the front of the victims' house runs as the husband walks right by it. He didn't notice it. He couldn't because it doesn't exist in the same world.
Later, in the middle, a crucial scene occurs. Our man unexpectedly drops in on fellow he thinks is taping him. The visited man denies it, then and later. We believe him. Yet, a tape of that very encounter appears the next day. In the story, our man suspects the son. But we know he didn't do it and when he denies involvement later, we believe him too.
Who took the videos? Here's more information:
When our fellow visits the same man he suspects, something dreadful happens. The angle we see it from is the same as the video was shot from in the previous visit. The movie ends with a very long fixed video precisely like the beginning. We are fooled into thinking it IS like the beginning, that once again, the world we create by being there and supernaturally causing the filming within has returned. On the second viewing we can see the fellow, the son, who supposedly was the filmer. He's there, visiting the victim's son.
So what we have is a French film, the kind that plays with post noir matters of the viewer's intrusion, that our mere existence makes us watch, and that creates virtual cameras to haunt our fictional people.
But in this case, its conceived and created by a German. So its well made, but without the human connection the best of the French, supposing you count Ruiz as French. Still, as an essay on necessary introspection, its elegant and it matters.
Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.
But something is amiss, and we learn it up front. The tape of the front of the victims' house runs as the husband walks right by it. He didn't notice it. He couldn't because it doesn't exist in the same world.
Later, in the middle, a crucial scene occurs. Our man unexpectedly drops in on fellow he thinks is taping him. The visited man denies it, then and later. We believe him. Yet, a tape of that very encounter appears the next day. In the story, our man suspects the son. But we know he didn't do it and when he denies involvement later, we believe him too.
Who took the videos? Here's more information:
When our fellow visits the same man he suspects, something dreadful happens. The angle we see it from is the same as the video was shot from in the previous visit. The movie ends with a very long fixed video precisely like the beginning. We are fooled into thinking it IS like the beginning, that once again, the world we create by being there and supernaturally causing the filming within has returned. On the second viewing we can see the fellow, the son, who supposedly was the filmer. He's there, visiting the victim's son.
So what we have is a French film, the kind that plays with post noir matters of the viewer's intrusion, that our mere existence makes us watch, and that creates virtual cameras to haunt our fictional people.
But in this case, its conceived and created by a German. So its well made, but without the human connection the best of the French, supposing you count Ruiz as French. Still, as an essay on necessary introspection, its elegant and it matters.
Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.