There’s a sequence in “Misericordia” that happens an hour in that will likely leave viewers speechless. But all it is is a two-person conversation. That verbal exchange demonstrates Alain Guiraudie’s dedication to dazzling audiences the traditional way—with ideas rather than actions—and demonstrates how terribly unsettling that exchange can be. His latest thriller is full of secrets and puzzles, but none more so than why it wasn’t included in the Cannes Film Festival’s main competition. This is an incredibly well-made French picture by a well-known director that has previously screened in competition; yet, the festival only felt it appropriate to screen it in the Cannes Premiere sidebar, which is occasionally used as a holding area for films that are turned down for competition. Why is that?
“Misericordia” tells the story of Jérémie (Félix Kysyl), a man in his 30s, who goes back to his little village to attend a funeral after a ten-year absence. It is also an opportunity for him to reconnect with former friends with whom he has an unresolved past. Existing grudges and accusations resurface when Jérémie is around, enveloping the tiny town in a web of falsehoods and treachery.
With a meticulous approach, Guiraudie presents his characters, setting them up like pieces on a chess board before flipping the board and throwing them into a violent confrontation. It’s unknown how Jérémie feels about the deceased man Jean-Pierre (Serge Richar), but he seems to get along well with Jean-wife Martine (Catherine Frot) and son Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand), who is in his thirties. He reacquaints himself with a local farmer named Walter (David Ayala) and becomes acquainted with Vinent’s wife, Annie (Tatiana Spivakova). A mephistophelean priest named Jacques Develay is constantly watching from the sidelines, ready to suddenly lunge in like a hawk.
By removing all explanation and flashbacks from his screenplay—a masterpiece of economical construction—Guiraudie functions on numerous levels of tension. It takes effort on the part of the audience to piece together the connections between the main characters and the earlier events. Given their similar ages and the fact that Jérémie had come to attend his friend’s father’s funeral, it first appears as though Jérémie and Vincent would become close friends. But as he tenderly caresses a picture of a speedo-clad Jean-Pierre in a family album, it gradually becomes apparent that his relationship might have been with the deceased man himself.
The mystery of Jérémie’s precise return and continued presence is another. At Martine’s request, he initially stays for a few days at her home to keep her company during her sudden loneliness. However, he quickly begs for permission to remain indefinitely, raising the possibility that he would take over Jean-Pierre’s company. Martine lets him stay even though she knows he won’t follow through. What does she expect from Jérémie in return?
The main thriller plotline of Guiraudie, which sees a crucial character disappear midway through the movie and accelerates numerous others’ spiral into psychosis, sits atop this maze of suppressed truths. Saying more would be churlish because the film’s breathtaking left turns have been meticulously preserved in the marketing.
Although this is arguably Guiraudie’s most traditional picture in terms of plot, it doesn’t make it any less fascinating or educational. It fits in well with the rest of his filmography, which has consistently welcomed perversions and aberrations as essential and elevating elements of the human condition.
The international title “Misericordia,” which is more appropriate, is the same Latin word for mercy as “Miséricorde,” which is simply French for “mercy.” The film’s title seems more arcane than it actually is. Guiraudie’s definition of mercy is based on accepting all forms of human conduct, including criminal activity, to the utmost extent possible. As an absolutist humanist, Guiraudie is a real radical who sits outside morality and all forms of judgement. He leads us to consider the universe as it is expressed by the well-known proverb that forms the core of Dostevesky’s The Brothers Karamazov: “If there is no god, then everything is allowed.”
The movie isn’t just a clever projection; it also functions incredibly well as a conventional thriller. There are several intense, heart-pounding moments where the cops become involved and the noose tightens around important players. These moments will make your blood pressure rise with fear. Simple talks between characters that gaslight and obscure one other become into mental ping-pong contests with life-and-death stakes. The dialogue is constantly rife with suggestion and innuendo, implying several possible interpretations.
Bypassing the ridiculous Hollywood technique of cutting between scenes, Guiraudie creates tension just with his set design and the acting. As its taut 100-minute timeframe attests, this is extremely rigors filmmaking, controlled and exact to the exclusion of anything superfluous. Even most of the extras are removed from the movie.
The minimalist look also extends to the simple images. Claire Mathon, a DP of renowned films like “Saint Omer,” “Spencer,” and “Portrait Of A Lady On Fire,” skilfully captures the autumnal timeframe and woodland setting of “Misericordia,” creating breathtaking wide-screen images drenched in fall colours, with the yellow, orange, and red hues in the forest appearing like a conflagration. Unquestionably, Guiraudie uses his signature classical framing, and not a single canted camera angle or “creative” view can be found. There are filmmakers who possess the uncommon skill of precisely placing the camera and cutting when necessary. Among Hollywood’s notable owners is Steven Spielberg. Guiraudie also has it.
Because of the low-key strategy, Guiraudie is forced to rely on his performers, who all step up to the plate. Kysyl adeptly transitions between transparency and opaqueness to carry the film. His slim build and attractive appearance make him a believable target for lust. Kysyl possesses a great deal of mystery, which is a crucial actorly quality that keeps viewers interested on screen. Giraudie has collaborated with the infrequent big star Frot, who is similarly adept at conveying several motives at once. In a remarkable performance, Develay adds a great deal to the movie as the priest. Durand is also a great director, though he is better renowned for that. Salomé Lopes and Sébastien Faglain are suitably scary as the police, while the rugged Ayala plays a savage farmer.
Being a gay filmmaker, Guiraudie has frequently focused his movies on queer experiences. This is also true of “Misericordia,” particularly in light of its highly intriguing examination of the variety of human desire. The film does not have as many of his signature explicit sex scenes, but he does use full-frontal nudity to highlight several important sequences and character interactions.
Although Guiraudie’s 2013 UCR submission “Stranger By The Lake” gave him a breakthrough and helped him qualify for the Cannes Competition with “Staying Vertical,” the unconventional, provocative, and challenging quality of his work has unfortunately caused him to fade into obscurity. “Nobody’s Hero,” his most recent picture, had its sidebar debut in Berlin and was mainly unnoticed. Guiraudie’s originality and individuality are impeccable. We can only hope that one of the best directors working today will finally receive the respect he deserves with a more approachable movie like “Misericordia.” [A+]
