An hour into “Misericordia,” there is a scene so shocking that it might leave viewers’ mouths agape in disbelief. Only it is a mere conversation between two people. That exchange of words can be so profoundly disquieting and underscores Alain Guiraudie’s commitment to thrilling audiences the old-fashioned way – with ideas rather than actions. His new thriller film is overladen with mysteries and enigmas, perhaps none so confounding as its absence from the main Competition at the Cannes Film Festival. Here is a stunningly accomplished French film from a name director who has previously played in Competition, and yet the festival only saw fit to program it in the parallel Cannes Premiere sidebar— sometimes considered a depository for titles rejected from Competition. What gives?
READ MORE: Cannes Film Festival 2022: The 22 Films Everyone Will Be Buzzing About
“Misericordia” concerns a 30-something Jérémie (Félix Kysyl), who returns to his rural hometown for the first time in 10 years to attend a funeral. It is also a chance for him to meet old acquaintances with whom he shares a buried past that is yet not fully resolved. Jérémie’s presence causes extant desires and recriminations to surface once again, engulfing the small community in an inferno of lies and deceit.
Guiraudie methodically introduces his characters, laying them out like pieces in a chess game before toppling the board and smashing them into conflict. Jérémie’s relationship with the dead man, Jean-Pierre (Serge Richar), is unclear though he seems friendly with Jean-Pierre’s widow Martine (Catherine Frot) and 30-something son Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand). He gets acquainted with Vinent’s wife, Annie (Tatiana Spivakova), and gets reacquainted with a local farmer, Walter (David Ayala). All the while, there is a mephistophelean priest (Jacques Develay) hovering on the periphery, waiting to swoop in like a hawk.
Guiraudie operates on multiple levels of suspense by excising all exposition and flashbacks from his screenplay, a marvel of economic construction. Audiences must work to decipher the relationships between key characters and what transpired previously. It initially seems like Jérémie and Vincent might be fast friends since they are the same age and Jérémie had come to attend his friend’s father’s funeral. But it soon emerges that his relationship might have been with the dead man himself as he longingly caresses a photo of a speedo-clad Jean-Pierre in a family album.
There is also the enigma of why exactly Jérémie has come back and why he is sticking around. He initially stays behind for a few days in Martine’s house, on her insistence, to give her company during her newfound loneliness. But he soon asks permission to stay indefinitely, dangling the prospect of taking over Jean-Pierre’s business. Martine knows he has no intention of following through, yet allows him to stay. What does she, in turn, want from Jérémie?
Overlaying this tangle of repressed secrets is Guiraudie’s overarching thriller plotline, which sees a key character disappear partway through the film, fast-tracking a descent into paranoia for several others. Saying more would be churlish as the marketing for the film has carefully preserved the stunning left turns that the film takes.
Narratively, this is perhaps Guiraudie’s most conventional film, yet not less interesting or enlightening for that. It is of a piece with the rest of his filmography, which has always embraced aberrations and perversions as necessary and ennobling aspects of the human experience.
The film’s title sounds more esoteric than it actually is; “Miséricorde” is merely French for “mercy.” The filmmakers have instead opted for the identical Latin word for mercy, “Misericordia,” as the international title, which is more fitting. Guiraudie’s concept of mercy is tied to tolerance of all human behavior, and it has expanded to its furthest reaches, even including criminality. Guiraudie sits beyond all judgment, beyond morality, and is a true radical as a humanism absolutist. He makes us contemplate the world as described by the famous aphorism at the heart of Dostevesky’s The Brothers Karamazov—if god does not exist, then everything is permitted.
The film isn’t all brainy projection, it works splendidly as a regular thriller too. As the police get involved and the noose tightens around key characters, there are several hair-raising, heart-in-your-throat moments that will have your blood pressure spiking with anxiety. Simple conversations become mental ping-pong matches with life-and-death stakes as characters obfuscate and gaslight each other. The dialog is consistently loaded with innuendo and implication, suggesting multiple lines of meaning.
Guiraudie eschews the risible Hollywood practice of cross-cutting and is able to generate suspense purely through his mise-en-scène and the actor’s performances. This is rigorous filmmaking of the highest order, controlled and precise to the exclusion of anything extraneous —evidenced by its taut 100-minute runtime. The film is even largely stripped of extras.
The spartan aesthetic applies to the uncluttered visuals as well. “Misericordia” is stunningly shot by Claire Mathon, a stalwart of French cinema and DP of such notable films as “Saint Omer,” “Spencer,” and “Portrait Of A Lady On Fire.” She fully exploits the woodland setting and autumn timeframe to craft stunning wide-screen images awash in fall colors, with the yellow, orange, and red hues in the forest looking like a conflagration. Guiraudie’s usual classical framing is unimpeachable, and there is not a single “creative” shot or canted camera angle in sight. Some filmmakers have the rare talent of knowing exactly where to place the camera and when to cut. Steven Spielberg notably has it in Hollywood. Guiraudie has it, too.
The stripped-down approach means Guiraudie must rely on his actors, who all rise to the challenge. Kysyl carries the film by skilfully vacillating between opaqueness and transparency. His soft looks and lithe physique make him a credible object of desire. Mystery is a key actorly attribute that sustains interest onscreen, and Kysyl has that in spades. Frot, the rare major star Giraudie has worked with, is equally good at communicating multiple motivations at once. Develay, in a staggering performance as the priest, makes an enormous contribution to the film. Durand, who is more well-known as a director, is also excellent. The burly Ayala as a feral farmer and Sébastien Faglain and Salomé Lopes as the cops are appropriately menacing.
Guiraudie is a gay director and has often centered queer experiences in his films. “Misericordia” is no different, especially due to its wildly suggestive exploration of the multiplicity of human desire. It skimps on his trademark explicit sex scenes, though he does deploy full-frontal nudity to enhance some key scenes and character interactions.
Guiraudie had a breakout moment in 2013 with the UCR entry “Stranger By The Lake,” which propelled him to the Cannes Competition with “Staying Vertical.” Even so, he has sadly languished in obscurity due to the unorthodox, subversive, and confronting nature of his work. His last film, “Nobody’s Hero,” premiered in a Berlin sidebar and went largely unseen. For originality and singularity, Guiraudie cannot be faulted. We can only hope that a more accessible film like “Misericordia” can finally bring due recognition to one of the greatest filmmakers working today. [A+]
