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If it is true that sadomasochism is a two-sided coin which contains the whole in the diverse expression of its opposites, then the cinematic portrait of Erika Kohut has its reality. Professor Kohut treats her piano students with a kind of fascist sadism while longing for the same for herself. Her outward expression projects her desire. That is why she can hurt without guilt or remorse.
Along comes talented, charming, handsome young Walter Klemmer (Benoit Magimel) who is attracted to her because of her passion and her intensity. He wants to become her student so as to be close to her. She rejects him out of hand, but because of his talent the Vienna conservatory votes him in. He falls in love with her. Again she pushes him away, but he will not take no for an answer, and thereby begins his own descent into depravity and loss of self-respect.
The question the viewer might ask at this point is, who is in control? The sadist or the masochist? Indeed who is the sadist and who the masochist? It is hard to tell. Is it the person who has just been greatly abused both psychologically and physically, who is actually lying wounded on the floor in grotesque triumphant and fulfillment, or is it the person who is rushing out the door, sated, giving the order that no one is to know what happened.
But Erika is not just a sadomasochistic freak. She is a sex extreme freak. She wants to experience the extremes of human sexuality while maintaining the facade of respectability. Actually that isn't even true. She says she doesn't care what others think. She doesn't care if they walk in and find her bleeding on the floor because she is in love. Love, she calls it. For her sex and love are one and the same.
At one point Walter tells her that love isn't everything. How ironic such a superfluity is to her. How gratuitous the comment.
The movie is beautifully cut and masterfully directed by Michael Haneke who spins the tale with expert camera work and carefully constructed sets in which the essence of the action is not just clear but exemplified (as in the bathroom when Walter propels himself high above the top of the stall to find Erika within). He also employs a fine positioning of the players so that they are always where they should be with well timed cuts from one angle to another. This is particularly important in the scene in which Erika, like a blood-drained corpse caught in stark white and black light, lies under her lover, rigid as stone. Here for the most part we only see her face and the stark outline of her neck with its pulsating artery. We don't need to see any more.
The part of Erika Kohut is perfect for Isabelle Huppert who is not afraid of extremes; indeed she excels in them. I have seen her in a number of movies and what she does better than almost anyone is become the character body and soul. Like the woman she plays in this movie she is unafraid of what others may think and cares little about her appearance in a decorative sense. What matters to her is the performance and the challenge. No part is too demanding. No character too depraved. It's as if Huppert wants to experience all of humanity, and wants us to watch her as she does. She is always fascinating and nearly flawless. She is not merely a leading light of the French cinema; she is one of the great actresses of our time who has put together an amazingly diverse body of work.
I think it is highly instructive and affords us a wonderful and striking contrast to compare her performance here with her performance in The Lacemaker (La Dentellière) from 1977 when she was 22 years old. There she was apple sweet in her red hair and freckles and her pretty face and her cute little figure playing Pomme, a Parisian apprentice hairdresser. Her character was shy about sex and modest--just an ordinary French girl who hoped one day to be a beautician. Here she is a self-destructive witch, bitter with hateful knowledge of herself, shameless and entirely depraved.
Huppert is fortunate in being an actress in France where there are parts like this for women past the age of starlets. (Hollywood could never make a movie like this.) In the American cinema, only a handful of the very best and hardest working actresses can hope to have a career after the age of about thirty. Huppert greatly increases her exposure because of her ability and range, but also because she is willing to play unsympathetic roles, here and also in La Cérémonie (1995) in which she plays a vile, spiteful murderess.
Do see this for Isabelle Huppert. You won't forget her or the character she brings to life.


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