By Icelandic standards Jar City is a real high, making use of the wilderness and sense of isolation and dreary urban environments. A detective with his own personal demons tries to make sense of his own circumstances as he investigates another pointless Icelandic murder. However the case soon unfolds as the strands reach out to unforeseen areas. Jar City is a solid thriller, partially elevated by its setting and swift running time. There is very little excess here, at times you may wish for a little more detail or depth, especially regarding his daughter. Yet I'd rather be left wanting more than suffering a messy overly long generic film.
Incredibly gloomy Icelandic noir about a resolute detective (Ingvar Sigurdsson) who investigates a modern day murder with its roots hidden in the murky secrets of a rural backwater. Meanwhile he must come to terms with his own personal trauma. Naturally the chain smoking cop has a contrasting sidekick...
And if all that sounds very familiar, it is saved from stifling genre convention by an undercurrent of deadpan humour and surreal peculiarity which plays throughout. The police procedural plot is complex but more significant is the ambience of corruption and decay; this is all about the atmosphere, and the despair.
The flat, volcanic landscape is photographed under sombre, lowering skies in a muted colour palette that can best be described as phlegmy. Everybody is addicted in some way in a futile attempt to alleviate the existential darkness. The village is built on a malodorous swamp which threatens to reassert its domain!
Everyone is connected, either through blood or crime. The policeman's daughter is a sex worker... Even his takeaway is grotesque. This is the least glamorous film imaginable, yet like all the best noir, it moves us with its aura of sadness and doubt. A Hollywood remake is rumoured, but surely this is too pessimistic!