Recognized for his 2013 queer thriller, Stranger by the Lake, director and writer Alain Guiraudie returns with another genre-bending film, Misericordia, premiering at Cannes Film Festival earlier this year. Upon hearing of his ex-employer’s death, Jérémie (played by Félix Kysyl) commutes from the city of Toulouse to his rural hometown in France to stay with his former boss's wife, Martine (Catherine Frot). Welcoming the company, things begin to get turbulent when Martine’s son, Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand), believes Jérémie is harboring inappropriate sexual desires towards his mother. Relations between Jérémie and the other townsfolk escalate quickly, with many of them not taking a welcome to his return. At once a drama, comedy and thriller, Guiraudie crafts a melding of genres while defying expectations in his latest film.
Quiet and composed, Jérémie’s past is shrouded in mystery. The audience discovers his attraction to his former boss early in the film, once working together in a bakery business before he moved away to Toulouse. Yet upon being introduced to more characters, the degree of Jérémie’s sexual yearning begins to multiply. Guiraudie’s depictions of desire aren’t at all straight-forward; they tend to defy stereotypes as well as the direction these impulses are released. Despite turning the small town into a crime scene relatively early on in the film, Misericordia generates a lot of awkward laughs and uncomfortable comedic tension. The two police officers who seem to run the law of the land have good intentions, yet are often swindled right under their noses, and others are quick to trust despite knowing virtually nothing about Jérémie’s recent history. Misericordia is a fun watch with an audience, though the comedic effect of Guiraudie’s film occasionally gets lost with the tone moving from frightful and suspenseful to light-hearted and silly.
Working once again with cinematographer Claire Mathon, the rustic village landscape seems to take on a life of its own. Vast hills, winding roads, and a variety of mushrooms growing in the dense forests seem to spill the town’s secrets through their own naturalistic language. When re-visiting the crime scene, there’s also a plethora of fungi near the shallow grave that continues to populate, no matter how often they are picked for consumption. The stillness of the town often lends an eerie feeling that somebody, out of sight, is always watching.
Moving at a gradual and repetitive pace, Misericordia’s strength lies in its complex sexual (and unconsummated) tensions between characters, but often loses its grip with frequent interjections of comedic release. The film essentially becomes a test of patience as the audience wonders how much longer the post-murder charade has left before it starts to crumble. Raising questions regarding morality, sexual impulses and fulfillment, Misericordia piques at threads of curiositty but ultimately leaves the the majority of the scenes flatlined.
For those of you in Austin, you can watch Misericordia at Austin Film Society today through Monday, April 21st. Grab your tickets here.
