Men, Mushrooms, and Murder in Alain Guiraudie’s Queer Drama Miséricordia
DIRECTED BY ALAIN GUIRAUDIE/FRENCH/2025 (U.S. Release)
There is nothing quite as terrifying or unnerving as visiting your hometown. In Miséricordia, director and writer Alain Guiraudie is intimately aware of the strangeness of returning to your past life and, even more so, reuniting with those that you left behind. Known for past works such as Stranger by the Lake, Guiraudie has a specific taste for psychological queer dramas. The latest edition to his filmography is a further exploration into this niche genre against the backdrop of autumnal French small town. What could be brushed off as just another murder mystery morphs into a conversation addressing the power of lust, self-destruction, and the art of foraging for mushrooms.
In the wake of the sudden death of his late mentor, Jérémie (Félix Kysyl) has traveled back to the idyllic provincial town of Saint-Martial to pay his respects. This grim reunion gradually spirals into a series of unfortunate circumstances all revolving around the 30-something visitor.
After the funeral, he is invited to stay in the cozy home of the deceased’s widow, Martine Regal (Catherine Frot). She is genuinely gracious host, especially when considering that her guest has not communicated a clear departure date. Though initially pleasant, Martine’s son Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand) soon begins constantly pressuring Jeremie to move along. This strained relationship between the two men stems festers and erupts into a physical altercation deep in the woods. The bloody outcome spurs along an absurd tale about the intensity of desire and its destructive tendencies.
With a boyish face and a cold calculating gaze, Kysyl plays Jérémie with a tense wariness towards the world surrounding him. His unassuming demeanor contrasts deeply with the underlying erotic nature of the film. Jérémie is a man floundering in repressed lust but, lucky for him, there is a plentiful bounty in this quaint village. He obsesses over a photo of his deceased boss in a speedo, makes a direct advancement on a neighboring childhood pal, and even seems to want after his older hostess. And the discussion on sexuality does not end there. For as much as Jeremie acts on his passions, the rest of the town responds in kind. According to Guiraudie, everyone here is filled with desire. Even the local priest (Jacques Develay), who rigorously protects Jérémie from the law due to his proclaimed love for the younger man. Somehow, by the final act, everyone ends up in bed with Jérémie. Truly, everyone.
Miséricordia‘s draw is simultaneously its glaring weakness: the tension. The first act is so riddled with anticipation that the longer it drags on, the more frustration builds in the audience – and not in a good way. Clearly something has to happen, but what? And will it be worth it? By the time the plot takes a distinct shape, the audience is barely hanging on by a thread. It is quite hard to justify the extensive exposition, and it is certain to lose a number of casual viewers. Guiraudie picks up steam in the second half of the film and manages to salvage this lethargic project.
It is easy to appreciate the themes Guiraudie is working with here. The film never tries to extend beyond its limitations. Instead, it thrives by maintaining a strict central focus on the area and its culture. In between their relentless mushroom foraging, these are people brimming with sexual desire and repressed urges. “Miséricordia” roughly translates to “mercy” or “compassion”. Our protagonist is continually granted clemency for both his actions and desires, even when some of the townsfolk discover his transgressions. As Jérémie is forced to confront his own savage morality, can he find it within his soul to grant himself the same mercy?