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.
Based on its stunning trailer -- propelled by early-Hollywood actor Taylor Holmes' ripping 1915 recording of the Rudyard Kipling poem "Boots" -- one might expect 28 Years Later to focus on a father and son's war for survival against zombie-like hordes.
Directed by Danny Boyle and written by Alex Garland, creators of the 2002 series originator 28 Days Later, the film does venture with 12-year-old Spike (Alfie Williams) and his rugged dad, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), into territory crawling with rage virus-infected human predators.
Yet, that's just a piece of a richer narrative anchored by the drama of domestic dysfunction within Spike's family, which also includes his homebound, mentally ill mom, Isla (Jodie Comer).
There isn't a great deal of originality in Jamie Wax's new play, Call Me Izzy, but it may well mark the first time a white porcelain toilet has been featured so prominently in a Broadway production.
The 90-minute, one-woman show opens in the bathroom of a mobile home, situated in a trailer park in rural Louisiana, where Isabelle "Izzy" Scutley (Jean Smart, Hacks) spends much of her time, scribbling on sheets of toilet paper with a mascara pen. Poetically, she describes the various shades of blue produced by the disinfectant tablets that she gingerly drops in the tank. To her, they are beautiful. To her husband, Ferd, not so much.
Brazilian newcomer João Pedro Mariano makes quite an auspicious screen debut as Wellington, the titular gay teen in the beautifully crafted street drama Baby.
Fresh out of a juvenile detention center, Wellington learns his parents have moved without leaving word of where they were going, abandoning him to the streets of Brazil's biggest city, São Paulo.
Thus begins the 18-year-old's Dickensian odyssey from boy to man, guided significantly by proud older hustler Ronaldo, portrayed with touching depth by Ricardo Teodoro.
Not long after the two meet, cruising inside an adult movie theater, Ronaldo asks Wellington if he ran away from home. "They ran away from me," he responds, a simple and factual reply that also calls out families that would sooner throw their queer kids to the wolves than truly love unconditionally.
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