Unsettling incidents take place in a small village in north Germany before World War I. The events are characterised by increasing violence and the community wonders about the identity of the perpetrators and their motivation. The village is no different from other communities in the rigid society of the period, nor is its puritanical approach to raising children unique. Strict obedience is required and humiliating punishments are exacted on those young people that deviate from expected behaviour. As time passes the village children seem to be implicated in the strange accidents.

Multi-award winning Haneke is known for his dark view of the world (Hidden 2005, Funny Games 1997/2007, Benny’s Video 1992) and, though lighter than some of his films, The White Ribbon is a disturbing offering about a rottenness in society that those in authority do not recognise or choose not to acknowledge. As with many of the director’s films it is left to the audience to make up its mind about responsibility and the why and who.

Many commentators have made the link between the youth of this period and those in authority in Nazi Germany. Perhaps this interpretation is too simple, maybe the film is about fear and security and the risk that rooting out evil might lead to a more authoritarian less liberal society. Haneke does not give us the answer and the power of the film lies in raising possibilities that make us think.

Although White Ribbon was filmed on colour stock Haneke chose to fade the colour away, the black and white result is visually stunning. A masterful film from a great director.

Haneke’s genius is to embed possibilities in films rooted in the daily lives of ordinary people. He denies us the simple solutions… his films are like parables. Robert Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times.

Neatly unfolded and tightly bound, White Ribbon controls like a novel that cant be put down. Brian Orndorf, efilmcritic.com

This is a profoundly disquieting movie, superbly acted and directed. Its sinister riddle glitters more fiercely each time I watch it. Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian.