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Rating:
As with every respectable tragedy or drama, the initial situation is one of the most static normality. Georges Laurent lives in comfort. A successful journalist, he has a beautiful and educated wife, Anne, and a twelve-year-old son, Pierrot, well integrated into Parisian high society. As with every respectable tragedy or drama, something happens that cracks the idyll. Georges starts to receive videotapes depicting him and his family inside their own home. Who is the author of these recordings? What is their purpose? Why does someone want to punish Georges by depriving him of his intimacy? Georges is forced by circumstances to dig into his memories to find an enemy, but not just any enemy. He tries to remember whom he might have wronged so much as to deserve such a punishment. His search takes him back to his childhood home, to a time when an Algerian boy, the son of the household staff, lived with him and his parents. The Laurents adopted him after his parents were massacred by the French police during a demonstration. Georges remembers doing everything he could to drive him out of the house, to avoid sharing his room and toys with a stranger. He also remembers succeeding.
In 2007, Michael Haneke created this film that bears the same relentless ferocity of his previous works but with some notable differences. Leaving behind the overt malevolence of "Funny Games" and the clamorous cruelty of the brilliant "The Piano Teacher", the Austrian director focuses on the psychological tension generated by the insidious violation of private life. As seen in David Lynch's "Lost Highway", the protagonist lives the nightmare of an intruder, a stranger who constantly spies on him. However, while the American filmmaker aimed for a long and hallucinatory digression on the dual identity of the murderer, Haneke wants to propose a problem that is much more deeply rooted in modern society and Western malaise. It’s a grand political metaphor: Mijad, the Algerian son adopted for a few months by the Laurents and betrayed by Georges, represents the impoverished East, rich in values and principles, receiving the petty charity of the opulent and sickly West (Georges and his family) only to be forgotten. The theme is addressed with refined and plausible rawness, without resorting to the necessity of bloody or vulgar hyperbole, but above all, Haneke avoids compromising the result of his analysis by taking on the role of a magistral life guide, not presenting unique solutions and thus leaving the ending open.
It is clear that, regarding the character development, Haneke has read and reread Schnitzler (For the record, the author of "Traumnovelle", from which Kubrick drew "Eyes Wide Shut"). The writer, a compatriot of the director, expressed in many of his works the main demon of Western society: paranoia. Just as the famous Dr. Fridolin cannot fathom the idea that his wife has betrayed him and seeks all possible means to redeem what he perceives as a castrating inferiority, in the same way, Georges refuses to believe in Mijad’s innocence, even though he repeatedly tells him he has nothing to do with the videotapes. When the couple's son disappears, Georges immediately leads the police to the Algerian's filthy apartment, only to discover that the boy had voluntarily spent the night elsewhere (Do not underestimate the character of Pierrot. Like his father as a child, he seeks an almost morbid exclusivity in affection, leading him to run away from home and to justify himself by accusing his mother of adultery with a friend, thereby depriving him of attention). When Mijad summons Georges to his house and reiterates his innocence before slitting his throat (One of the most impactful scenes, underscored by Mijad's statement "I wanted you to be here" just before taking his life), the man believes this was merely one last attempt by the Algerian to frame him. Bringing these characters to life are Daniel Auteil, in a state of grace, Juliette Binoche who, despite proving her great professionalism, cannot shake off the fame derived solely from that annoying gypsy chocolatier, and a resurrected Annie Girardot in the role of Georges’ mother.
I don’t even want to dwell on the stupid Italian translation of the title (Which, as noted, says the exact opposite of the original). In conclusion, therefore, "Niente da nascondere" loses points in Haneke's strenuous and failed attempt to mix mystery, thriller, and drama. But I only mention this aspect because the film is worthy nonetheless...
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