Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil play a married Parisian couple living in the lap of bourgeois comfort in Haneke’s slow-burn psychodrama—and this being a Haneke film, that comfort doesn’t last for long. Their coddled existence is soon disturbed by the appearance on their doorstep of ominous surveillance tapes of their home and troubling art brut drawings originating from an unknown source, mysterious messages with no obvious meaning that nevertheless fill the family apartment with an air of guilt and suspicion. A riddle with several plausible solutions, Haneke’s film leaves the viewer without the satisfying closure of identifying one thing that’s wrong with a life of antiseptic ease, but the disquieting sense that everything is wrong about it.