Serene on the surface, seething with desire beneath, Alain Guiraudie’s French thriller Misericordia is fascinatingly strange, creepy, and suspenseful.
Much as the filmmaker’s masterful 2013 thriller Stranger by the Lake planted a sinister seed by setting a serial killer loose in a tranquil outdoor gay cruising spot, here Guiraudie upends a seemingly wholesome homecoming in the countryside with dark undercurrents of sex and violence.
Although, beyond a couple of pointed shots of male nudity and one shot of bleeding, there’s little sex or violence onscreen. Merely the potential for the former and the threat of the latter linger equally over nearly every scene in this odd chamber piece set in a remote village tucked amid the forested hills of Occitanie in Southern France.
Jérémie, portrayed with an intense gaze by Félix Kysyl, returns to his home village from the city for the funeral of his former boss, the town’s devoted baker, who was like a father to him. He’s welcomed with an open heart by the baker’s widow, Martine (Catherine Frot), and received much less warmly by her adult son, Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand).
Hints of a brotherly rivalry clearly run deeper, certainly for Vincent, who eyes Jérémie with suspicion from the moment he sees him. Suspicion shifts to outright aggression after Jérémie decides to stay in town for a while in the home of Martine. She’s happy to have Jérémie’s company. He’s out of work back in Toulouse, and, hey, maybe he’ll take over the bakery. None of this pleases Vincent.
Jérémie is also eager to rekindle a friendship with Walter (David Ayala), who happens to be Vincent’s best friend, and to whom Jérémie seems inexplicably attracted. Ayala is especially effective portraying slobbish Walter’s utter confusion over Jérémie’s ardent interest.
Little does Walter know, but inexplicable attraction runs rampant through these hills. Even sly, elderly priest Philippe, played by Jacques Develay in the film’s most complex performance, can’t deny desire. But, of course, desires will be thwarted. Resentments fester, aggression escalates, and someone in this tiny town goes missing.
As suggested by the title, which means “mercy” or “compassion” in Latin, Guiraudie doesn’t just escalate to homicidal intentions but also explores ensuing acts of compassion. Throughout, the script and direction maintain an air of quiet dread, aided by both the commanding presence of Kysyl — serving the unnerving vibe of a young, handsomer Klaus Kinski — and the isolated, pastoral setting.
These verdant woods, brilliantly shot by Stranger by the Lake cinematographer Claire Mathon, are abundant in varieties of morels and mushrooms. So, tromping through the woods is a town pastime, leading many of the movie’s characters searching through the morning mist that clouds the forest. Some go to escape, others to hunt, and not just for mushrooms.
Guiraudie gets maximum mileage out of the photogenic fungi, which, as it turns out, grow extremely well in the soil over a hastily buried body, a dead giveaway to murder perhaps. Ultimately, the local gendarmerie gets involved in the form of an inspector (Sébastien Faglain) and his steady assistant (Salomé Lopes).
Faglain’s droll deadpan performance as the incredibly persistent, slightly insouciant investigator helps bring the movie home with an unexpected comedic twist, which might be the most inexplicable desire of all, but it works.
Misericordia (★★★★☆) is unrated and playing in select theaters, including Alamo Drafthouse Bryant Street, 630 Rhode Island Ave. NE in Washington, D.C. Visit www.fandango.com.
It can't be easy to write a play that successfully cries out to the world "Look what happened here! Understand!" Many fall way too hard on the side of over-explaining, feeding the drama with fiction-busting expository and presenting their characters as either heroes or villains to make every point crystal clear.
Their hearts may be in the right place, but they so woefully underestimate their audience that they lose it. The truth is, everyone who has made it to adulthood knows that life is messy and that even the "good guys" stumble and struggle. The plays that can deliver their message amid this human ambiguity are the powerhouses in this tradition, playwright Branden Jacobs-Jenkins being a prime example.
Influencers are blathering on the internet. Rumors have been flying about the backstage troubles of Bombshell: The Marilyn Monroe Musical. That's the musical within the Broadway musical Smash, based on the short-lived, cult-hit television show of the same name.
It premiered on NBC in 2012 to critical acclaim but by the end of the second season, critics panned it. Still, legions of fans were loyal, and invariably, talk began of bringing it to Broadway.
A benefit for the Actors Fund saw a one-night-only, sold-out concert presentation of Bombshell in 2015, but the project lay dormant until 2020 when, in the midst of lockdown, it was announced that a musical based on the TV series was in the works. Finally, Smash has arrived.
Her parents call her Vivian, but she won't stand for anyone else calling her that. She's Twinkie, a 17-year-old, self-described "master of sarcasm" just poking her head out of the closet in writer-director Sarah Kambe Holland's engaging autobiographical debut feature, Egghead & Twinkie.
Based on Holland's eponymous 2019 short, the feature re-teams Sabrina Jie-A-Fa as baby dyke Twinkie and Louis Tomeo as straight dude Egghead, Twinkie's best friend since fourth grade, when his family moved in across the street.
Now the pair are wading into their last summer together in the Florida burbs before Egghead heads to Stanford to study engineering, leaving Twinkie at home still figuring herself out. She's already figured out that she doesn't want to be like her conservative, yet separated, adoptive Mom (Kelley Mauro) and Dad (J. Scott Browning).
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