When I was young I thought that life was so wonderful that foreign films were snooty, arthouse affairs, the kinds of flicks pretentious people only pretended to like in order to look sophisticated.  That’s probably true of some foreign films (and most modern art in general), but I’ve found that the opposite is frequently the case.  Some of the best movies I’ve watched lately were foreign films.

Koreans and Spaniards (of various derivations) make some of the best films.  Much to my surprise and delight, the French make some excellent films, too.

To be clear, some of the crappier stuff I’ve seen have been pretentious French flicks.  My beloved Shudder has a whole collection of French films that are, let’s say, experimental garbage.

But the frogs do get some things right now and then.  One of those is 2004’s Calvaire (alternatively Calvary or The Ordeal).

Calvaire is the story of a French singer, Marc Stevens, who makes his meager living singing cheesy love songs at retirement homes.  He is popular among the old French ladies, one of whom makes an embarrassing pass at him, as does the hot, almost-middle-aged entertainment manager at the facility.  Marc, though, is a rambling man, and must get on to a big Christmas gig in the south of France.

Along the way, his van breaks down deep in the woods of rural France.  His only option for lodging is with Bartel, an eccentric loner who operates an empty inn.  Bartel is (allegedly) a former standup comedian who lost his mojo after his wife left him some years earlier.

What unfolds is something like a cross between Misery (1990) and Shirley Jackson’s short story “The Lottery.”  Bartel is pleased to have a fellow entertainer with him, but obfuscates efforts to repair Marc’s van.  Marc takes a walk in the country, after which Bartel warns him to stay away from the villagers.  While Marc is away, Bartel breaks into Marc’s van and pilfers through his belongings, including some suggestive photos of the retirement home entertainment coordinator.

Bartel’s warning to avoid the visitors is not (just) an effort to isolate Marc; it is a sincere warning.  These villagers are weird.  Marc secretly witnesses a group of them committing unspeakable acts (perhaps things that would be celebrated at Target here in the month of June) to a pig.  Later, Bartel visits the village café to warn the villagers to stay away from his “wife,” after which the villagers engage in a bizarre, penguin-like dance to a truly hellish waltz.

Believe it or not, things get even weirder after this scene, but I can’t reveal much more without ruining the various twists and turns of the plot.  Indeed, I’ve already illuminated too much.

Calvaire is a psychological thriller, and it keeps the viewer guessing about the characters’ motives, including Marc’s.  Primarily, Marc wants to get to his gig, but he finds himself drawn more and more into Bartel’s malicious madness—at first unwilling, but it seems more and more with his consent.  It’s hard to tell if Marc is just humoring Bartel, or if he’s just along for the ride.

In the midst of this strange hostage situation is the hostile and weird presence of the villagers.  Bartel clearly does not get along with them, and they do not seem to like Bartel.  They are also quick to resort to violence, and they all have the feeling of being intensely inbred.  It’s the nightmare vision of rurality that shows up in American horror and psychological thrillers of the 1970s (Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, Tourist Trap, etc.).  Marc is caught in the dead center of this creepy maelstrom, and his presence reignites a storm that has been raging quietly for some time.

Shudder describes Calvaire as “an underseen gem,” so it’s extremely likely you haven’t seen it.  Outside of Shudder, it appears to be available on Amazon and YouTube (with rental or purchase fees), as well as a handful of lesser-known streaming services.  It’s definitely worth checking out.