‘Misericordia’ Review: Into the Woods the Path Isn’t So Straight | NYFF

Everyone has a secret they’d take to their grave— but at what cost? And is it really even a secret? Confronting the ghost of a childhood crush, foraging for rare mushrooms in hidden spots, a priest confessing: mysteries enshroud the village carefully held together by a web of secrets in Alain Guiraudie’s latest, the sexually-charged, genre-bending adventure Misericordia. The culmination of its efforts–a darkly comic family drama turned noir-screwball comedy– brings some latent entertainment albeit through disconcerting tonal shifts and an unsatisfying, dizzying conclusion.

The film begins as 30-something drifter Jérémie (Félix Kysyl) makes the long, winding journey back home following the death of a former co-worker, Jean-Pierre. The autumnal French countryside also mourns his passing: fields sit empty and withered, yellow leaves line the damp forest floor, bursts of rain seek to cleanse the town (its pragmatic French community are never shown teary-eyed). As he approaches Saint-Martial, you immediately see the church steeple emerging from the heart of the commune, towering over the surrounding homes and buildings as if keeping watch. This immediate visual cue signals a divine omnipresence that quietly persists throughout the movie. 

What upsets the balance of the town is when Jérémie extends his visit after the funeral and stays with the widowed Martine (Catherine Frot). Her grown and volatile son, Vincent, played by Jean-Baptiste Durand, becomes increasingly and unreasonably resentful of Jérémie, whether fueled by an instinct to protect his mother, rumors, an incident in Jérémie’s past that led him to flee Saint-Martial, or mere jealousy. Coincidental encounters and playful wrestling in the forest turns into repeated hazing (Vincent comes to his mother’s house every morning at 4 a.m. to startle Jérémie awake) and aggressive physical attacks. Jérémie defends himself by deescalating when possible but is inevitably pushed beyond the breaking point. 

The film picks up once Vincent disappears and Jérémie, having been the last one to see him, finds himself at the center of the investigation. Family members rationalize Vincent’s temper as a reason that he’d unexpectedly flee, but the evidence doesn’t add up. Though some suspect Jérémie (Martine and the police separately try to obtain a confession out of him by sleep talking), the observant priest makes the first move by privately pressing Jérémie on his alibi. Astutely and wittily played by Jacques Develay, he takes on the role of judge to mediate between the riled town and the revenant. In a clever turn, he confesses to Jérémie that he knows what has happened to Vincent. 

This offbeat relationship deepens, eventually culminating in Misericordia’s humorous, shocking climax. However, an earlier key scene highlights the film’s more intimate subtext. As they stand on a cliff overlooking the town, they contemplate the philosophical and psychological implications of human nature, notably how collective responsibility can answer for guilt or even pave the way for desire. The open-ended discussion provides some clarity when you consider that the title, Miséricorde, translates to “mercy;” not only a direct reference to the priest’s duty to his constituents, but also to his specific gift to Jérémie. Fittingly, another form of the word, miséricord, or “mercy seat,” references the ornate shelves carved on the underside of folding church seats that, when raised, would support ministers unable to sit during mass. In many ways, the film is offering Jérémie absolution and a renewed sense of faith. As is a late passing comment that Jérémie’s surname is Pastor, once again connecting him to the priest, or at least the act of worship and reconciliation. Could divine intervention have brought Jérémie back to reconcile with his past?

Jérémie’s hidden motivations coupled with the ambiguity of his relationships with both men and women are what strain the film’s final act. His sexuality is both an essential character trait integral to multiple revelations in the film and a loose thread that connects him to and isolates him from certain inhabitants of the town. Guiraudie more successfully embeds sexual orientation and tension into the fabric of his acclaimed Stranger by the Lake, a Greek tragedy that relies on the identities of the men cruising at a nude beach. Here, it is used as a punchline instead of as a tool to interpret his past, secret relationship with Jean-Pierre. Consequently, the characters’ self-serving nature distastefully exacerbates this convoluted web of absurdity.

Reckoning with your past can be a difficult process equally as traumatic as the memories themselves. Reconciling with those unearthed ghosts can symbolize a rebirth that only forgiveness can unlock. The ideas at the heart of the film offer universal wisdom beyond the teachings of religion, but do so haphazardly and in a way that feels exploitative. Learn from Jérémie: there can be no pleasure without pain. There’s no point in running from your past because even missteps can lead you in the right direction. Never underestimate the power of desire; you may find love in a hopeless place.

Rating: B-

This review is from the 2024 New York Film Festival Misericordia. will be released theatrically in the U.S. by Janus Films and Sideshow.