We're looking down an alleyway, at a house. There are two cars parked out front. What we see is a regular suburban street, an unremarkable sight, even if the cold simplicity of the image and the stillness of the long take is a little unnerving. But we come to realise we're not strictly watching this scene, but watching it through the eyes of Anne (Juliette Binoche) and Georges (Daniel Auteuil) on the television in their marital home. They've been anonymously sent a tape in the mail, and what they're watching on the TV is a recording of their own house, and themselves. The opening shot sets up the (unsolvable) mystery of Hidden, while making us complicit in the voyeurism of whoever the culprit may be. It also gives us a sense of pace, that of a slow-burn, that eventually director Michael Haneke will use against us by inserting moments of shock violence later on. But the plainness of the opening still, coupled with the enigmatic plot, means you'll forever be scouring this opening image for clues.
Lover of film, writer of words, pretentious beyond belief. Thinks Scorsese and Kubrick are the kings of cinema, but PT Anderson and David Fincher are the dashing young princes. Follow Brogan on twitter if you can take shameless self-promotion: @BroganMorris1
