Misericordia
The openly gay Alain Guiraudie explores new ground in his César-nominated comic crime thriller.
Félix Kysyl and Catherine Frot
Image courtesy of New Wave Films.
Although well established in France, Alain Guiraudie’s international reputation came about through his sexually explicit 2013 film Stranger by the Lake set in a cruising area. That aspect of gay life was conveyed with great authenticity and atmosphere and it came across as the film’s central concern. Its stress on male nudity and gay sex made it a commercial hit. Guiraudie’s next two features (he regularly writes the screenplay for his own films) failed to obtain a release in the UK but now we have his latest work, Misericordia. Despite again being gay orientated, this time the film’s intentions are much less clear. The nudity is not totally abandoned (it features twice and prominently so!) but just what viewers are meant to make of the story being told is something of an open question.
In one respect Misericordia gives unqualified pleasure. As was the case with Stranger by the Lake, the colour photography is by Claire Mathon and this film, shot in wide screen, makes glorious use of the French countryside in the south west the story being set in the village of Saint-Martial. We approach it via the road leading there and the view from the driver’s seat of a car being driven by Jérémie Pastor (Félix Kysyl) conveys a great sense of place from the outset. Jérémie, the central figure in this tale, is returning to the village which he had left some ten years earlier and what brings him back is the death of the local baker, Jean-Pierre Rigal, for whom he had once worked. Travelling from Toulouse to attend the funeral is a gesture born of the fact that Jérémie had been in love with his boss who now leaves a widow, Martine (Catherine Flot), and a son, Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand). The latter is married to Annie (Tatiana Spivakova) with whom he has a young child, Kilian (Elio Lunetta). We are also introduced to two other characters who will feature prominently: a fat recluse named Walter Bonchamp (David Ayala) known to Jérémie from his school days and the local priest, Father Philippe Griseul (Jacques Develay).
As the film proceeds, we are engaged by its visual appeal and the actors involved are all competent players. Nevertheless, Guiraudie who as writer created these characters observes them and the situation in which they find themselves in a curiously detached way. The setting is certainly persuasive and the scenes establishing the people involved do at least invite speculation. The death of Jean-Pierre means that there is an opportunity for somebody to take over his bakery and, with Jérémie being qualified to do that and with the widow, Martine, happy for him to stay on in her house after the funeral, it is possible that he is planning to do just that. But all we really know about Jérémie - and this through the way in which he seeks a copy of a photograph of his one-time employer in clinging swimwear - is that he had been sexually attracted to Jean-Pierre. The married son, Vincent, does not welcome Jérémie's return and soon seems concerned that his mother is so attracted to her visitor that he might well find himself usurped as heir as and when his mother dies. The tension between Vincent and Jérémie is marked and leads to fist fights which could indicate hatred and jealousy on Vincent’s part. But because there's also an element of play-acting and physical connection it could also be read as a sign that contrary to appearances Vincent has a gay side. Meanwhile, Jérémie is seeking out Walter Bonchamp and, unprepossessing though his old acquaintance is in appearance, Jérémie after some drinking makes advances to him. And then there's the priest who is quite clearly both horny and gay.
Setting up these characters is done in an unhurried manner although once established their conflicts are shown to lead to a killing. In the second half of the film, we find two gendarmes investigating, but even then Guiraudie holds back from giving any real weight to the suspense of what will happen next. Indeed, the plot developments involve so many chance meetings in the nearby forest where the killing had occurred that it has led some critics to describe Misericordia as a farce. But, if Guiraudie does likely intend the film to have a comic element, his presentation of it is totally deadpan and furthermore although farce usually gains its effects by being played at speed the film’s steady pace is maintained.
The open nature of the film is also apparent in another way: there is no indication of what view the audience is expected to take of the characters and that is particularly the case when it comes to Jérémie himself. The fact that the narrative is so centred on sexuality and on the possible appeal of Jérémie to all of the main characters does carry a distant echo of Pasolini's classic Theorem (1968) but that was a consciously stylised work. However, it could be that Guiraudie wishes to give us here a tale which at heart abhors categories of sexuality and wants to suggest that everyone's sexuality is essentially polymorphous and flexible. That's a possibility but I put it forward because Misericordia is lacking in any set character or clear intention that would provide cohesion and an identifiable purpose. Technically it is very able and as an oddity it is not uninteresting, but the experience it provides ultimately feels hollow at heart.
Original title: Miséricorde.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Cast: Félix Kysyl, Catherine Frot, Jean-Baptiste Durand, Jacques Develay, David Ayala, Tatiana Spivakova, Elio Lunetta, Sébastien Faglain, Salomé Lopes, Serge Richard.
Dir Alain Guiraudie, Pro Charles Gillibert, Screenplay Alain Guiraudie, Ph Claire Mathon, Art Dir Emmanuelle Duplay, Ed Jean-Christophe Hym, Music Marc Verdaguer, Costumes Khadija Zeggaï.
CG Cinéma/Scala Films/Arte France Cinéma/Rosa Films/Les Films du Losange/OCS-New Wave Films.
104 mins. France/Spain/Portugal. 2024. US Rel: 21 March 2025. UK Rel: 28 March 2025. Cert. 15.
