Félix Kysyl and Jacques Develay in Misericordia

MISERICORDIA
Directed by Alain Guiraudie
Certificate: 15
☆☆☆☆

A SCRUFFY rural environment with equally worn and scruffy characters scratching a living somehow from a tired earth gives Misericordia a down-at-heel and true-to-life atmosphere.

Jeremie (Félix Kysyl) travels to a hamlet to honour the memory of a man who once employed him.

Jeremie was in love with his boss and his widow Martine (Catherine Fort), though unaware of quite how much this strange young man was in love with her husband, tells him he can stay at her house.

This seemingly altruistic offer to this seemingly harmless visitor is not taken kindly by everyone it impacts on.

The widow’s son Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand) suspects Jeremie might be trying his luck with Martine, and is deeply unhappy at the fact Jeremie is sleeping in his former bedroom and wearing his dead father’s clothes. We learn they were once best of friends, but something has driven a horrible wedge between them.

Weirdly, instead of the recently bereaved lady offering him home comforts, Jeremie’s attraction at first settles on the vest-wearing slob of a neighbour Walter (David Ayala).

Vincent doesn’t want to let this lie and after Jeremie has a set-to with Walter after trying his luck with the older man, Vincent takes him into a cold forest clearing to beat him up and warn him off. But Vincent’s plans backfire disastrously and in steps the village priest, Philippe (Jacques Develay), who becomes Jeremie’s unlikely saviour – with strings attached.

Director Guiraudie has a dark and strange sense of humour: Misericordia is neither a murder mystery nor a straight-up black comedy. But Guiraudie relies on the fact he can turn out original cinema to keep the viewer interested.

While the parade of characters provide oddness, it is the settings that really give you the creeps.

The dampness, the murk, an environment that humans have mastered yet still seems to ooze danger is more chilling than giggle-inducing. There are no real clues to Jeremie’s motivations which are complicated, to say the least, and as he becomes increasingly more desperate and dangerous, the sheer weirdness of the human condition drives the plot. This is a world where joy and love have been usurped by grief, pain and depression.

Perhaps this art of rural France is beautiful in the sunshine, perhaps it is the sort of place Peter Mayle would find quaint. But in Guiraudie’s hands, darkness lurks everywhere.