Misericordia 

With nods to Hitchcock and his late French counterpart, Claude Chabrol, Alain Guiraudie continues to chart his own path in the 2024 suspense film, Misericordia. Unleashing mayhem and eroticism in placid settings is a Guiraudie specialty, and with Misericordia, he delivers a bookend to 2013's much-lauded Stranger By the Lake (L'Inconnu du lac). Both films have similar themes of death and desire  among a small group of troubled souls in rural France. However, in the case of Stranger By the Lake, the story unfolds through the eyes of the morally conflicted witness to a murder, while in Misericordia, the protagonist is the morally conflicted murderer. Dispensing with the explicit sexual imagery of Stranger By the Lake, Guiraudie, instead turns up the heat with what he doesn't show: it's a tease that works. 

The plot of Misericordia seems deceptively simple: when a young man named Jeremie' returns to his hometown to attend the funeral of his former mentor he stirs up a hornet's nest of hostility, longing and suspicion among his old acquaintances. Yet, as is usually the case with Guiraudie (and other French directors), nothing is ever as simple--or predictable--as it seems.   

Following the village baker's burial, things start to get tricky when his widow, Martine, persuades Jeremie' to spend a few extra days to help alleviate her grief and loneliness. Installed in the former bedroom of Martine's grown son, Jeremie' is soon confronted by the married, temperamental Vincent--Jeremie's childhood frenemy--who does not hesitate to express his profound displeasure with his mother's new houseguest. Jeremie' further raises Vincent's hackles when he pays a visit to their mutual friend, Walter, a reclusive sort who lives in a ramshackle cottage on the edge of town. What gives? Jeremie' wonders. 

Genuinely grieving, Jeremie' attempts to find solace in daily strolls through the woods, but Vincent is never far behind. Deep in the forest, Vincent childishly engages Jeremie' in some good old-fashioned roughhousing. At first, both men laugh uneasily: neither is certain how far the other is willing to take this. As the daily encounters escalate, Vincent makes it clear that he wants Jeremie' gone--one way or another. Nearby, villagers, day-trippers and the local priest prowl the forest collecting the highly valued mushrooms that proliferate there during the fall. At times, it almost feels the priest seems to be hunting more than mushrooms. But, surely, he's a priest, right? Right?

Meanwhile, on an hourly basis, the local gossip mill churns out unfounded allegations that circulate throughout the village. At one time or another, almost everyone (it's a very small village) takes their place in Martine's kitchen to ponder Jeremie's now-questionable sojourn. An act of violence and a sudden disappearance engenders further speculation (though surprisingly little distress). What is this city boy really doing here? What does he want? 

Well, that's difficult to answer because Jeremie', himself--a onetime resident of the village--is largely unknowable. Louchely handsome and a bit introverted, he is a young man of few words, as well as a man of mystery. In the decade since he left the village--and the baker's tutelage--he has been employed at an industrial bakery in Toulouse, where he shares an apartment with his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. That's what he says, anyway. This information represents the totality of what the villagers--and the viewers--know about Jeremie's recent past, but, as it happens, Jeremie' is a rather unreliable narrator so can anything he says be believed? Behind his startling blue eyes, there is a slyness suggesting that Jeremie' is not quite the cool, reserved good boy he pretends to be. 

Vincent, the edgy ruffian, catches on to this quickly--or thinks he has. Their incessant quarrels imply that they have unfinished business dating from their youth, with Vincent's increasingly aggressive physicality underscoring the idea. 

On the other hand, Jeremie's approach towards Walter is both sneaky and forthright. Thanks to Vincent, Walter is--at first--wary of his old classmate but, gradually, warms up to him. That is until Jeremie' provokes Walter with an ill-advised seduction attempt. Drunk and stripped down to his underwear and one of Walter's outsized Stanley Kowalski tees, Jeremie' pounces, causing his shocked friend to haul out the shotgun and chase him out of the house. 

There is a good bit of dark humor in Misericordia, especially when Abbe Griseul, the village priest, is on hand. The constantly lurking Griseul is among the mourners who gather daily around Martine's kitchen table to drink, speculate and gossip. An intelligent man, more worldly (and cunning) than others realize, Griseul absorbs the conversations and responds with facial expressions that inform the viewer that this holy man is no innocent, that he knows exactly what's afoot. He also has the funniest scene in the film when he leaps from bed--naked and impressively erect--to frighten away an intrusive gendarme who has burst into his quarters. 

As Jeremie', Felix Kysyl is boyishly chubby-cheeked, with a hangdog quality that immediately sets him apart as an outsider in this village of eccentrics. Able to convey emotion through the slightest movements and sparsest dialogue, his strangely attractive face is, at once, expressive and untrustworthy. Without ever giving away too much, his character's true motivations remain enigmatic to the very end. 

As a matter of fact, all the characters in Misericordia have motives that are either shady, sneaky or misunderstood. Jean Baptiste-Durand's portrayal of Vincent is convincingly menacing, especially when he surprises Jeremie' in his old bedroom in the middle of the night. On the knife's edge of deranged, his Vincent is a palpable threat even if Jeremie' doesn't initially acknowledge it. Baptiste-Durand's performance is a balancing act of uncertainty and hostility. 

David Ayala's Walter, on the other hand, is well aware of Vincent's ungovernable temper and responds accordingly. With his uncouth appearance and rural naivete, Walter, as played by the excellent Ayala, is unexpectedly endearing: his shocked, buggy eyes, shlumpy posture and general state of disarray make him an unlikely object of desire for Jeremie' (and possibly Vincent). Animal magnetism, I guess. 

Catherine Frot, as the stoic Martine, brings maternal warmth and dignity to her character, while ever-so-subtly maneuvering Martine into the position of silent inquisitor; an arch of her eyebrow and the narrowing of eyes suggest that she may have a little something in store for Jeremie' that belies her hospitable demeanor.  

Finally, there is Jacques Develay who almost steals the show as the melancholy Abbe Griseul . Showing up at the most (in)opportune times, Griseul skulks the vicinity with determined vigor and watchful eyes. Develay is, alternately, moving, creepy and cunning in the role, in addition to being funny (in a deadpan sort of way) and believably horny (evinced by the aforementioned phallus he wields to ward off the cop).To his credit, director Guiraudie mixes and matches his casts without regard to age, shape or standard physical appeal: you sometimes find the unlikeliest bedmates in his films. 

Misericordia premiered at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival and received 8 Cesar nominations before being snatched up by the prestigious Criterion Collection. Ever since Stranger By the Lake, Guiraudie has demonstrated his prowess at building slow-burn suspense while navigating well-defined, flawed characters through the agonies of unrequited love and the ecstasies of desire (along with a little murder) amid the pastoral settings of southern France*. A sporadic filmmaker, Guiraudie's output isn't nearly as active as I'd like, although he's always worth the wait.  

*Misericordia was filmed in and around Sauclieres, Aveyron, Guirdaudie's birthplace and home for many years. Stranger By the Lake was shot at Lake of Sainte-Croix.