When Jeremie (Felix Kysl) comes to pay his respects to his now deceased boss, for whom he once had a thing, it seems he may now have designs on the widow, Martine ,(Catherine Frot) too. He’s a strange presence, Jeremie, with darting eyes and a twisting mouth. Later, he gets drunk and pursues the slobbish, lazy Walter (David Ayala) for reasons best known to himself.
He’s also, most likely, a psychopath, having killed Martine’s oddball son Vincent (Jean- Baptiste Durand) in a toy-fight that got out of hand. Not to worry, suggests the local priest, Phillipe (Jacques Develay) who’s attracted to Jeremie: they can have a sort of fling, cover his tracks, and after all, the Lord forgives…right?
This film, written and directed by Alain Guiraudie, is a rum one, alright. At times, it’s like ‘Midsomer Murders’ if Claude Chabrol got his leather gloved mitts on it. Initial scenes point to a Gallic take on Pasolini’s ‘Teorema’. Ultimately, though, it’s French deadpan to the point of lunacy, and all of the characters are deranged and/or wholly unlikeable. Still, it somehow works, if you buy into its bizarre, ambiguous logic.
There are also many references to cocks, with mushroom hunting a none too subtle nod to Jeremie’s sexual preferences within the shots of phallic objects. Claire Mathon’s earthy cinematography is beautiful, bringing an off-kilter loveliness to the film, focusing on ominous forests and the emptiness of village life. Extremely odd, but rather enjoyable, and with winning performances all round.
Hit The North 