Critics tended to agree that Michael Haneke's Caché represented a singular vision. What they couldn't mutually reconcile was whether he employed that vision toward a catharsis viewers would find satisfying -- or even accept as an ending for the film. A bracingly simple yet original take on the gradually escalating stalker story, Caché finishes in a way that shouldn't be revealed. In fact, it shouldn't even be hinted at, except that it plays a role in whether the movie is worth recommending. Suffice it to say that the ending is unconventional -- brilliant to some, maddening to others. Fortunately, the journey getting there is rich enough that even the most negative reaction to the conclusion can't spoil the experience on the whole. The eerie surveillance tapes -- which seem to come from a camera angle that couldn't exist in reality -- set the tone, and French acting treasure Daniel Auteuil sustains the tension through a performance of great quiet fear. The eventual revelations of his character Georges' secret guilt, and the details of what he's accused of, are somewhat mundane. But that's beside the point, because Caché is about subjective rather than absolute emotional damage. Georges may be deserving of these opaque threats and psychically violent intrusions into his domestic world, or he may not, but the film explores how the mere implication of guilt can twist and transform. Juliette Binoche, working in her native French, is equally strong as the wife who must absorb the dissolution of her home life without being offered an explanation for it, even though her husband knows more than he's saying. The film has enough good surprises to offset the debatable ones, and is composed at every level with consummate artistry, so Caché is an important work.