Michael Haneke

21 November - 17 December

Introduction by Geoff Andrew

Just prior to the 2001 release of Code Unknown, in his introduction to the BFI's first retrospective of Michael Haneke's work, Geoff Andrew wrote that the Austrian writer-director deserved to be far better known. Happily, that situation has changed for a man he still considers one of the most ambitious, intelligent and consistently rewarding film-makers around.

Eight and a half years on, Haneke is now widely regarded as one of the world's most important auteurs. He's not only won a host of major awards - his many Cannes prizes culminating this year in the Palme d'or for The White Ribbon - but he's seen several films (most notably The Piano Teacher and Hidden) attain 'crossover' box-office success. These achievements have not been the result of any compromise, artistic or philosophical; indeed, Haneke's artistry has with the passing of time become even more rigorous in its precision, subtle in its complexity, and significant in its relevance to today's world.

Happily, too, the misconception that Haneke specialises in a cinema of violence has long been laid to rest. If violence exists in his work - it does, though it's always the product of great creative care and ethical consideration - that's only because it exists in the world. Few film-makers are so committed to exploring the deeper implications of what it means to be living today - especially for those of us who, like himself, lead a relatively privileged existence in Western(ised) Europe. And even fewer are as adept as he at turning any thoughts on that topic into pacy, gripping, properly affective drama.

If, as has too often been said, Haneke is something of a provocateur, that's because he'd like us to think a little more carefully about what we watch and, while we're at it, how we live. But he's also an artist of great restraint; the biggest influence on his work, after all, is probably Bresson. And as with the Frenchman, the asceticism of his style may initially give an impression of cold detachment; look again, however, and you'll find a quiet, unsentimental but very profound compassion. Haneke makes his films because he cares about people, the world, the truth; and thanks to the essential honesty, integrity and eloquence of his work, we may come to consider those things more carefully, too.