Director: Alain Guiraudie
Writer: Alain Guiraudie
Stars: Félix Kysyl, Catherine Frot, Jacques Develay

Synopsis: Returning to Saint-Martial for his late boss’s funeral, Jérémie’s stay with widow Martine becomes entangled in a disappearance, a threatening neighbor, and an abbot’s shady intentions.

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Alain Guiraudie’s Misericordia, part of the Main Slate of the 62nd New York Film Festival, begins with a long drive down a winding road. As the opening credits roll, we eventually end up at a village bakery. But the circumstances under which this drive is taking place are anything but sweet. Jérémie (Félix Kysyl) steps out of the car, and walks into the house directly next door. It’s the house of his former mentor, Martine (Catherine Frot), a wife who is now a widow. Martine welcomes Jérémie in with open arms despite the unfortunate reason for a visit. Her husband has recently passed, and Jérémie has returned to the village he grew up in for the funeral. It appears to have been some time since anybody last saw Jérémie. But one of the ironic truths about death is that it inherently brings people closer together. And it’s in this irony that Guiraudie crafts a film full of entanglement, desire, drama, thrill, and surprisingly, comedy.

Misericordia’s ability to balance all these tones is nothing short of a miracle. In that regard, it’s a truly odd film. But that should be taken as a compliment! It never stretches itself too thin. Its varied tones only clash against one another by design. And the reasons for these clashes are basically stated outright by the local priest (Jacques Develay). Upon bumping into Jérémie at one point in the film, he criticizes Jérémie for considering an easy solution to his complex problem. “The world has gone to the dogs… and we all know it.” Still, the priest points out that despite this fact, we enjoy our lives in the face of such madness. It feels like Guiraudie could be delivering this message directly to camera through his characters. The easy solutions in life are never as intriguing as the intricate dilemmas that force us to reckon with who we are and what we want as individuals. And it’s in the myriad of Guiraudie’s thorny dilemmas that he makes an absolute meal out of Misericordia.

One would expect from the opening scene or two that Misericordia will remain a steadfast drama. Yet fairly quickly, it pivots into an oddball comedy of sorts. Jérémie has a bit too much wine as the night is winding down, and Martine insists that he spends the night. It’s a kind gesture, with Jérémie reluctantly accepting to spend more time with the clearly grief-stricken and lonely widow. And it’s here that the film truly begins. Because Jérémie just sort of hangs around from then on. He walks through the forest and the streets of his old village. He tries to strike up a conversation with Walter (David Ayala), somebody from his past, by just lurking outside his home. He roughhouses with Martine’s son, Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand), a childhood friend who is known to have a bit of a temper. It would appear that Jérémie is dredging up the past the longer he hangs around. So, is it a shock that eventually the people around him begin to wonder why? Not at all, considering Guiraudie builds this intrigue of the film with ease. Kysyl turns in a role that is simply impossible to read. He provides us no evidence of any malice or ulterior motives. He is shown to be incredibly convincing though, judging by the humorous lengths to which he pushes his kind hostess. It’s only shortly thereafter when Misericordia really begins to turn its wheels. In a film so full of surprises, the first act being a comedy of bending social norms morphs into two final acts full of gripping thrills.

It’s best to not have this initial revelation spoiled, but it’s arguably the one time where it feels like Guiraudie makes a slight misstep. Much of the film revolves around the notion that Vincent is a hot-head in more ways than one. It’s often spoken around in vague terms (a key element of this film), but one might get the sense that the village is a bit fed up with his behavior and demeanor. The only issue is Vincent is never really shown to act in this way to an extreme degree. He’s a bit odd, but more than anything, the development of his character feeling so rushed puts a damper on Misericordia, if only momentarily. Still, the film finds a way to quickly move past such an issue. From here, Misericordia hits its stride as it adds more weight to its shoulders with each passing scene. And just when you think it couldn’t possibly carry anymore, Guiraudie dumps all of it onto the audience and leaves us to walk out of the theater with our heads spinning and thoughts racing at the patient madness we just witnessed.

Guiraudie uses the rest of Misericordia to essentially provide a consistent set of interrogations for his audience. And this is meant morally, but also quite literally. It feels like every single scene of the film is either an establishing shot of Jérémie, or of characters interrogating one another. The entire film has this eerily patient tone, and yet, so many sequences capture some sort of shocking revelation. Only Guiraudie never calls attention to them. He merely lets the newfound information wash over the viewer. It appears as if these characters already know everything about one another. These reveals are designed for us, the omnipotent audience. And it’s in that idea of characters already knowing everything about one another that Guiraudie hides his thesis.

Misericordia depicts what occurs when nothing is stated out in the open. As I wrote earlier, Jérémie acts as a bit of a cypher in this film. Over time, we learn a thing or two about him; primarily just his desires. And these personal cravings, and all the longing in the film, are what Guiraudie chooses to focus on. They all remain hidden at the outset of the film. Often hinted at, it’s almost as if all those involved are too afraid of saying anything incriminating. To do so would disrupt the “natural” harmony of the small village. And yet, when these desires are spoken around and never embraced, we see a series of consequences play out. They range from thrilling, to frightening, to funny, to sexual. We may never know what the characters of Misericordia truly want. And much like reality, who knows if they’re even completely sure of it. But one thing is for certain; Guiraudie captures the inherent mess that comes with unbridled desire. And it’s arguably never been more enticing and mischievous to chase than in Misericordia.

Misericordia is screening as part of the Main Slate of the 62nd New York Film Festival.

GRADE: B-