Memory, Shame and Footage in Michael Haneke’s “Caché”
Revisiting the Historic Significance Behind French Psychological Thriller "Caché" 20 Years After Its Premiere at the Cannes Film Festival
Trigger Warning: Descriptions of suicide
By October 17, 1961, France had maintained a colonial rule over Algeria for over 130 years. The country’s oppressive presence had become too much for Algerian nationalists, and a revolution against the French began in 1954. That historic October day, tens of thousands of Algerian protesters descended upon Paris to demand an end to French rule — the retaliation from the French police is now known as the Paris massacre of 1961. While there is no official death toll, historians estimate that around 200–300 Algerians were murdered that day, with many people being savagely beaten and drowned in the Seine river. Following the event, the French government refused to acknowledge what had happened, claiming that only two Algerians died and censoring all media coverage of the protest and the subsequent massacre. There were no photos, no footage. And there had never been a film about the Paris massacre until “Caché.”
By 2005, those liable for the Paris massacre were long gone and could not be held accountable. Who is left to feel their guilt and shame? Can it be passed on to later generations? These are the questions that drive Michael Haneke’s 2005 film “Caché.” The film depicts the Laurents, a well-off, sophisticated, Parisian family while they investigate a series of mysterious videotapes left on their doorstep. The footage on the tapes shows the family’s home and their comings and goings just outside the building. As the tapes gradually become more personal, patriarch Georges (Daniel Auteuil) suspects the culprit to be Majid (Maurice Bénichou), an Algerian man whom he has not spoken to since childhood, when his parents disappeared in 1961, after working at the estate of Georges’ family. In a one-off statement to his wife (Juliette Binoche), Georges mentions that they were presumably killed by the French police in the Paris massacre. “Enough said,” he tells his wife after becoming uncomfortable at the thought of the atrocity.
As a result of Majid’s sudden orphanage, Georges’ parents invited him into the family home and made plans to formally adopt him. But a young Georges felt that his home was being invaded by the immigrant, and began to tell his parents disturbing lies about Majid. Georges’ parents felt that they had no choice but to send Majid away. After a videotape depicts the old family estate, Georges hastily concludes that Majid is sending them in an attempt to intimidate or terrorize his family. When he finally goes to the low income housing district to confront Majid in his home, he claims to know nothing about the tapes.
As the Laurents’ unidentified stalker relentlessly tries to make Georges feel some form of indignity, Georges insists that he is not responsible for Majid’s current situation. Georges tells himself that it was other French people that killed Majid’s parents, and reminds himself that he was only six years old when he told those lies. But this pain and shame is larger than just him and Majid. After a life of comfort built on the back of 130 years of colonialism, Georges is being punished. The disparity and injustice is made blatant in the film. As Majid dwells in his two-room apartment, Georges roams his large, modern home, and does his best to forget the uncomfortable memory of Majid and France’s historical atrocities.
The symbolism expressed by the camera is anything but subtle. There is no footage of Majid’s parent’s deaths, so Georges is forced to watch his own family live through the videotapes. This footage is undeniable documentation that the Laurents exist, in contrast to the fact that Georges and his mother both seem to forget Majid ever lived with them, and contrast to the French government’s claim that only two Algerians died on October 17, 1961. While footage is clear, indisputable proof of existence, both Georges and the French government prefer to choose how to tell history. Instead of state violence, the audience is left with domestic routine.
Prolonged wide shots from the perspective of the Laurent’s stalker are riddled throughout the film. The camera lingers in awkward moments, as the viewer is made to feel they are watching something they shouldn’t be watching. The shots force us to watch the footage Georges is forced to watch by way of tapes on his doorstep. Whether that makes the viewer associate with the cameraperson or Georges is up to them. Making the viewer feel complacent in a character’s misguided actions is a technique used frequently by director Michael Haneke, including in his 1997 film “Funny Games.”
Invasion is a constant theme in “Caché.” Georges’ intimate, private home being invaded by his stalker mirrors France’s colonial invasion of Algeria in 1830. Footage of contemporary invasions is shown on occasion, with television news of conflicts between Israel and Palestine being audibly overwhelmed by a conversation between Georges and his wife discussing their problems.
The most significant transgression of the film is the infiltration of Georges’ mind. Georges’ previously peaceful mind which chose to ignore Majid’s existence for decades is rampaged and occupied by memories of his childhood sins.
The most overt parallel between the Paris massacre and the story of “Caché” can be found in the film’s climax. After continuous conflict between the two men, Majid asks that Georges come back to his apartment for them to talk. After once more denying having sent the tapes, Majid tells Georges, “I called you because I wanted you to be present.” He leaves Georges with just a moment to stare at him blankly, and suddenly Majid pulls a blade out of his pocket and takes his own life. A streak of red splatters across the wall as the death toll of the Paris massacre increases by one. Georges cannot hide from his past, nor the past of his country any longer. This moment will be burned in his mind for eternity. There is no more forgetting. Majid simply could not allow one more person to forget. Georges exits the shot and the viewer is left to witness Majid’s body.
Georges, now without the ability to run from reality, locks himself in his home, the very space that his stalker originally violated. He closes his blinds in a desperate attempt to keep out any intruders, or perhaps any intruding thoughts. He takes sleeping pills, hoping that slumber will be his escape. But as he sleeps he dreams of Majid.
On October 17, 2021, Emmanuel Macron became the first French president to attend a memorial ceremony for the Algerians killed 60 years prior. He honored the victims alongside their relatives at the Seine river. Mainstream French media finally acknowledged the hundreds of deaths that occurred that day, but the generational trauma of Algerians remains. The ending of “Caché” has continued to draw significant confusion from audiences over the past 20 years. After a series of hostile and at times bloody confrontations between Georges and Majid, and Majid’s son (Walid Afkir), the film ends in an oddly unremarkable fashion. As Georges’ son, Pierre (Daniel Duval), walks out of his school, Majid’s son approaches him and begins a conversation. However, we as viewers cannot hear what either are saying as the wide, surveilling shot is observing them from too far away. The two share a relaxed body language, and appear to be quite comfortable with each other. As the sons of feuding fathers exit the frame and allow the credits to roll, the viewer is left to wonder: What did they discuss? Were the boys sending the tapes? Does Majid’s son have some sort of sinister plan for Pierre? While there are countless interpretations, one may choose to believe that the two of them simply are enjoying each other’s company and that, despite their family’s horrific past, the two can envision a future unburdened by their father’s histories.