In the original, he strings the audience along, constructing what looks like — at least at first — a run-of-the-mill horror movie. Such horror movies usually involve the innocent being harmed, and audiences know that. Haneke has his killers peer directly at the audience, declaring that it is they, and not the victims, that we're meant to identify with. You came to see torture? Here it is. You, dear viewer, are the sick one. You are the evil one. You are killing this family. We, left with that implication, begin to look for just, explainable reasons why the central family is being so grievously punished. Is it because they are rich and bougie? That makes sense, as their killers are dressed in tennis outfits, a uniform of the bourgeoisie. Paul and Peter are initially polite, but also weirdly critical of the Schober family. They break the eggs they are borrowing "by accident," and then ask for more. Are they testing the limits of the Schober family's politeness? Are the Schobers being tortured for not properly weathering this little test of politeness? And, wait, aren't we being a little sick just by asking these questions? Surely, then, the thesis of "Funny Games" is to achieve catharsis in witnessing the torturers facing justice, right? If the family can escape, get the drop on their captors, and achieve blood revenge, we, the audience, can rest assured that justice is served. Sometimes, we can say comfortably to ourselves, violence is necessary to balance the scales. But then, Haneke doesn't let us have that either. The killers can break the fourth wall, so they have total mastery over the movie itself. Even longing for their deaths is revealing our own need for violence. There's no way out for us. We, us, the viewers. We are the guilty party.