Misericordia NYFF Film Review: Singular Storytelling

Writer/director Alain Guiraudie’s Misericordia is a wild ride that perfectly blends comedy into a nail-biting, morally complicated thriller.

Misericordia tells the story of Jérémie (Félix Kysyl, of Godard Mon Amour), an out-of-work baker in his thirties who is returning to his hometown in the region of Occitanie, France to attend the funeral of his former boss and mentor, Jean-Pierre. While Jérémie has not returned to Occitanie in 10 years, he is greeted with warmth from his Jean-Pierre’s widow Martine (Catherine Frot, of Home Front) and an awkward dissonance from his son Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand, of Two of Us). The night of the funeral, not wanting to be alone, Martine encourages Jérémie to stay over and drive home in the morning. While Jérémie agrees, the next morning he spends some more time in the quaint town and decides he is going to stay. The question on everyone’s tongue becomes, “For how long?”. But even Jérémie himself doesn’t even seem to know the answer.

Jérémie’s presence is a mystery to everyone. His mother and father moved away long ago, and while he is in the process of breaking up with his girlfriend of four years, he still has one presumably waiting for him back home. Yet, he stays in Vincent’s childhood bedroom, spending his days going on walks in the forest to hunt for mushrooms and his nights having dinner with Martine and the local priest, Father Philipp (Jacques Develay). Jérémie’s indoctrination into the life of the small town quickly begins to bother the hot-headed Vincent, who believes Jérémie’s intentions are malicious and does not want him around his mother. After Jérémie and Vincent’s frustrations with each other come to blows, their quaint village in Occitanie is thrown into complete disarray. 

There are no words to accurately prepare you for the journey you will take while watching Misericordia. The film opens on a peaceful and fairly desolate French country road. The introductory sequence is filmed from the perspective of whoever is in the driver’s seat, which we later come to find is Jérémie. This opening sequence is longer than you’d anticipate, especially with how uncomfortable the shot is to be looking at for an extended period of time. The road we are traveling along is winding, the turns come out of nowhere and with the speed the car is traveling it is hard to get your bearings and understand what you are looking at. However, this shot is the perfect setup for the film you are about to watch.  

Misericordia at its core is about Jérémie’s struggle to cope with morality. He comes back to a town that he had left behind eons before, but he is uncomfortable with the life he is currently living. He’s in a very particular type of mourning that no one outside of Martine can understand. When he lived here, there was bountiful potential ahead of him. He was young and talented and caught the attention of a man who was an important fixture in his community. When he left, he expected life to continue to go up from there. 

However, only upon his return does he understand how foolish he had been to believe this. Early in the film, there is a shot of Jérémie examining the body of his beloved mentor. He stares at his face, the camera panning then to the dead man, and the shot is held so long you almost expect the dead man to do something. You know it’s beyond all logic, but still you, just like Jérémie, are in disbelief that this is it. Jérémie seeing this man he loved so much and thought so highly of lying before him, dead, puts into perspective for him that even the mightiest fall. 

While Jérémie’s presence around town is a mystery to everyone, the reasoning seems fairly logical: he wants to be somewhere he feels like he might be able to belong. Through all the main players in the film, he tries to recapture the sense of belonging he had all those years ago in his hometown because he certainly doesn’t feel it where he is in life right now. 

Jérémie is an endlessly fascinating character. He says the wrong thing more often than he says the right thing, he’s a terrible liar and he doesn’t care he is disrupting the lives of people who are already in mourning in an attempt to self-soothe. Félix Kysyl is able to shape Jérémie into an utterly complex character that you can’t help but have sympathy for even when he is completely and totally in the wrong. 

While the story follows the moral conundrums and seeking of belonging that Jérémie faces, Jacques Develay’s turn as Father Philipp completely steals the film. Develay’s comedic timing and blunt sincerity make you miss his presence when he is not on screen. Father Philipp is the only person who sees through the bullsh*t Jérémie tries to hide behind and speaks to him as someone who really and truly sees him. 

In Jérémie, Father Philipp sees a man who is lost in every sense of the word. Jérémie cannot come to terms with his sexuality, his relationship with masculinity, or his lack of direction. The best moments within the film are the conversations between Jérémie and Father Philipp. Father Philipp doesn’t have the answers but knows what questions to ask Jérémie to try and provoke or reawaken whatever light has gone out in him so long ago. 

Misericordia is a film that manages to have fun with itself while still presenting provocative questions about life, death, love and guilt. Writer and director Alain Guiraudie’s handle on tone within this piece is unlike anything I have ever witnessed before. With pitch-perfect performances from a knockout cast to a truly singular story, Misericordia is a one-of-one film that you have to see to believe. 

Misericordia will be screened at the New York Film Festival on September 29, 2024 and will be screened at the BFI London Film Festival on October 12.