Early in Happy End, the latest film from Austrian master filmmaker Michael Haneke (Amour, Caché, The White Ribbon), there is a long, static shot of a construction site, its languid reverie interrupted by a sudden wall collapsing, taking an occupied porta-potty with it. This tale of dysfunctional family ties is dotted by calamities amid deceptively calm — and visually beautiful) circumstances, often viewed from a distance or off-screen, while internal tension stealthily mounts. As the title slyly implies, suicidal impulses thread through the story, from a preteen heroine to her mother and a grandfather with dementia (Amour’s Jean-Louis Trintignant, who cross-references that film’s plot here). Less claustrophobic than Amour and more of a multicharacter family tapestry, the film nonetheless pales by comparison with Haneke’s earlier masterpiece. But the classic, uncompromising, sentimentality-dodging Haneke touch is well in hand, stylistically, even as Happy End subversively tugs at the heart in ways we often don’t see coming.