As time goes on, we find that there are fewer opportunities for us to splendour in the incorruptible beauty of nature, which we often tend to see falling by the wayside as we live our cosmopolitan lives. Yet, there are still groups of people dedicated to preserving the natural world, although some of them have reasons that are far less pure or well-intentioned than others. This is the fundamental starting point for Stranger by the Lake (French: L’Inconnu du lac), in which celebrated director and agent provocateur Alain Guiraudie goes in search of a more daring depiction of desire, continuing his steady march towards being seen as one of the most singular voices in contemporary LGBTQIA+ filmmaking, and one whose vision is truly incomparable, for better or worse considering his films tend to become quite polarizing at the best of times, something that he has continuously worked to emphasize as intentional. This film, which takes place entirely at a lake nestled deep in a pastoral corner of rural France, focuses on a young man who frequents the nearby beach, not necessarily for recreational purposes (although he does relish in the peaceful, idyllic landscape), but rather because this is a location particularly popular with the gay community, who visit the lake and its immediate surroundings to engage in anonymous sexual activity with strangers. Our protagonist soon finds that his efforts to find pleasure take a dark turn when he is introduced to a peculiar but alluring man who presents himself as a prospective partner, but who has many secrets and a penchant for brutal violence, which the main character witnesses firsthand, but discovers that he is singularly unable to bring himself to reveal the truth when it is most necessary. An off-kilter, tense and genuinely uncomfortable work that carries an immense psychological weight that is never quite alleviated, and instead begins to compound in what is widely considered to be the director’s landmark film and one that has risen to become one of the most unconventional but absolutely brilliant works of contemporary queer fiction that stirs a sense of unease in the viewer, who is bound to be drawn into the chaotic and unsettling world that  Guiraudie so elegantly sprawls across the screen while exploring several deeper and more daring themes.

Stranger at the Lake is a film composed of several different themes that intertwine and become quite intense after a while, and which seem to be quite unwieldy at first, but gradually come together to form a cohesive piece of social and cultural commentary, offering some intriguing and somewhat controversial observations on queerness and how it is perceived, both within the community and from those who don’t directly associate with it, at least on the surface. Guiraudie’s modus operandi with many of his films is to establish a very clear framework from which he works, and then gradually introduce other ideas in the process, which creates a more complete and provocative statement. This film is primarily based around queerness, albeit the kind that isn’t necessarily spoken about openly, instead being drawn from the more visceral, sordid recesses of the human condition. The characters that populate this film are men who are not entirely sure of their own identity, or at least refuse to label it – for them, it’s less a case of performing a particular sexual identity, and more about allowing themselves to succumb to the euphoric satisfaction that comes from abandoning their true selves and instead adopting alternative personas, through which they can explore their deepest and most unconventional desires. The decision to set the entire film at a nudist beach – albeit one that one of the characters does remark doesn’t allow for nudity in the legal sense, but where the authorities generally turn a blind eye to the activities that commence in this secluded area, almost as if they are silently allowing these activities to take place in a single place and where all these deviants can congregate, far from the prying eyes of the rest of society – has narrative value, since we see these men quite literally shed their existing personas (in the form of their clothing, which ultimately represent every aspect of their existence – names, age, profession and background mean absolutely nothing in this utopia of desire), venturing into the overgrown forest, in which they are able to surrender to nothing but their most carnal cravings, retreating into both a literal and metaphorical oasis of queerness, which is supposedly not as freely available to them in their daily lives, and where they can be united in their choice to actively engage in these secretive, incognito acts of sexual liberation.

There are multiple layers to Stranger by the Lake, which is a film that doesn’t make all of its intentions clear from the outset and instead relies on a very particular kind of narrative subversion to tell its story, taking the viewer on quite a daring journey into the lives of these characters as they navigate their innermost desires. It should be noted that there is more to this film than just a neverending parade of sexual activity (even if this is ultimately the element that is most memorable, solely for how the director intends to use the concept of pleasure as a means to drive the plot forward), and it is gradually reconfigured to become quite a tense, unsettling psychological thriller, particularly when the central conflict occurs and instils a sense of existential dread in the protagonist, who witnesses a horrendous crime, but has to conceal the truth as a result of being involved with the culprit. Throughout his body of work, it’s clear to see that Guiraudie understands the importance of mood, and Stranger by the Lake is almost entirely driven by atmosphere, both in narrative structure and how these ideas emerge visually and in terms of the tone. The film takes place over ten consecutive days, and each one is clearly demarcated through the use of repetition. The lack of music provides a sense of foreboding danger and a sense of complete abandonment from the outside world – this lake almost seems to be suspended in time, an unsettling paradise of unhinged sexual depravity which eventually takes a much darker turn when vengeance and anger overtake passionate desire. The use of a limited location creates a sense of entrapment since the film never ventures out of this restricted space and evokes a genuine feeling of despair. Even the use of the male body is fascinating, with the director using explicit nudity and unsimulated sexual activity as a narrative tool, a means to show the animalistic desires of these men as they leave every bit of their existing life behind and simply embrace their innermost desires. Guiraudie refuses to soften the content or make it more palatable, and there are some elements of Stranger by the Lake that are genuinely quite shocking, not necessarily because of the presence of blatant sexuality, but rather in how the director utilizes it as a means to explore the darker and more bestial side of humanity, which seems to be the most simple description of his intentions with this film.

Guiraudie has a precise and compelling vision, but ultimately had Stranger by the Lake been formed with only his perspective and effort factoring into the narrative and its execution, this would have been a far more shallow film, especially considering how close it comes to being nothing more than 100 minutes of objectification (although in this there is still a potentially fascinating conversation in terms of gender dynamics and how filmmakers use sexuality and the human body as a narrative tool), which means that some focus needs to be given to the actors cast in the central roles. The film features a breakthrough performance for both Pierre Deladonchamps and Christophe Paou, neither of which were particularly well-known actors, but who nonetheless delivered stellar work. Their performances are rich and complex, and we find that there is far more to them than simply playing these objects of desire. Deladonchamps as Franck is the ideal protagonist for this story – he is well-developed, but he’s not necessarily the focus, but rather a surrogate for the audience, acting as our entry-point into the world of this film, guiding us through some of the more bizarre elements that gradually begin to compound into quite a harsh and unsettling examination of a man simply seeking some playful, anonymous encounters with like-minded strangers, not being plunged into a sinister conspiracy that involves sexual violence and murder, which gradually begins to envelop his frequent visits to this lake. Paou is a terrific villain, being both alluring and repulsive, stirring such conflict in the viewer and ultimately contributing brilliantly to the psychosexual terror that lingers quite heavily over the story. The emotional core of the film comes on behalf of Patrick d’Assumçao, who is the only established actor in the main cast, and who nonetheless brings nothing but the most sincere empathy to the role of an older man who is brave enough to flirt with exploring his sexuality, but not enough to label it or act on his urges. The actors, both those who make up the main cast and the small group that play supporting or incidental roles, are encouraged to abandon all inhibitions and simply submit to the themes that govern the film, which results in several complex, engaging performances that set the tone for the film and help prevent it from becoming overly dense or exploitative, which is a legitimate risk when dealing with such controversial and unsettling subject matter.

Over a decade later, Stranger by the Lake remains one of the most daring and provocative entries into the contemporary canon of queer cinema and continues to be a profoundly shocking and unsettling examination of desire and masculinity. Guiraudie is a director whose work remains an acquired taste – it’s genuinely disquieting and reflects a side of society that many would prefer to be kept hidden, especially considering how deeply unnerving and uncomfortable the story tends to be for the most part. Yet, there is something so incredibly poignant about how he explores these themes, which flourish into a hypnotic, quietly unnerving film that utilizes a stream-of-consciousness narrative as its primary method of communication, daring to peer beneath the surface to capture the feeling of dread and despair that is so integral to the identity of this film. Most of this film tends to be driven by the atmosphere, with the director establishing a very particular mood from which he builds the narrative, which focuses on a simple story that starts as an investigation into the cruising sub-culture within a small, closely-knit French society (the exact location of this film is unknown, but the director has made it clear that it is based on a place he frequented in the past, lending it some credibility and proving to bring a necessary amount of insight into the proceedings), and then which ultimately becomes a fascinating account of desire and how it manifests in different ways. It develops into something more sinister when the sexuality turns quite violent, which causes the film to spiral into a genuinely off-kilter, unsettling examination of masculinity and the fury that is often associated with a particular generation of men who feel entitled to instant gratification. Numerous layers of discourse are present in this film, which becomes genuinely unsettling, and making sense of it all is quite difficult – but once we simply surrender to the more unconventional elements and begin to understand that not everything is supposed to be rooted in logic and that the occasional dreamlike tone is intentional, the sooner we realize the strengths and merit that underpin this fascinating and poignant film that is as terrifying as it is captivating.