Directed by Alain Guiraudie

Written by Alain Guiraudie

Starring: Pierre Deladonchamps, Christophe Paou, Patrick d’Assumçao, Jérôme Chappatte, Mathieu Vervisch, Gilbert Traïna, Emmanuel Daumas, Sébastien Badachaoui, and François-Renaud Labarthe

A tranquil lake that queer men use as a cruising spot creates a perfectly atmospheric backdrop for the erotic and murderous tension of this tale. It’s certainly one of the most slow-burn movies I’ve seen in a while, letting me gradually sink into the apparent peacefulness of this place under the helm of writer-director Alain Guiraudie. This isn’t even using a traditional score to amp up the thrills and convey to me what I should be feeling. Instead, the sound design relies on the noises of nature, like the water, the footsteps, and the bugs. It lets them roll over into my ears, where this locale can be fleshed out on a sensory level. Claire Mathon’s cinematography plays a big and gorgeous role on the visual side of things, particularly when we get to take a look at the lake and the light shimmering off of the water’s surface. Then we have the compelling characters, with Franck and Michel being tethered together by a palpable lust that benefits from some good old explosions during their unsimulated sex scenes. Props to Pierre Deladonchamps and Christophe Paou for their heated chemistry that flows along so organically. And let me tell you, I wasn’t expecting the horniness to become as overt as it does. Goddamn, there’s one point where a guy straight-up ejaculates onscreen, which I swear I don’t think I’ve seen before in a movie. It’s a daring road for this film to embark on, and personally, I embrace its portrayal of these men’s sexuality. More dicks! More cum! Unleash it all!

The dynamic between Franck and Henri is gripping, too. It differs from the bond that Franck has with Michel, because the two of them, as spicy as their pairing is, don’t land as the sort of couple where I’m rooting for them to end up together (and to be clear, this isn’t a criticism against the movie, because that’s very much the point of it). But Frank and Henri leave me hoping they can find comfortable companionship with each other. The link between them wavers back and forth between platonic and romantic territory while steering away from a sexual space. It’s a nuanced aspect that becomes grounded in the chemistry between Deladonchamps and Patrick d’Assumçao. It all feels quite real as I watch their characters get to know each other, with Henri especially being a lonely type who’s simply looking for some enjoyable company. It’s a proper contrast against the quiet darkness of this tale, which builds up into an ending that’s got me on the edge of my seat. The suspense had already been brewing beforehand, and now it tightens up into something sharper. Yes, I do arch a major eyebrow at why a certain character acts so foolishly, but I suppose I can suspend my disbelief and come up with a reason for why he behaves in that sort of human and flawed fashion.

All in all, I now understand why I’ve kept seeing Stranger by the Lake pop up as a recommendation in queer cinema circles. We desperately need more queer tales of the steamy and thrilling kind.

Final rating: 4 out of 5 stars