As procedural thrillers go, the Icelandic drama Jar City is better than the average American genre entry, but that’s not saying much. Baltasar Kormákur directs this dark investigative work like a heavy contemplation of identity, where the solution is secondary to the atmosphere. Miles away from the David Fincher school of by-the-numbers solutions, the movie finds its center in murky ambiguity.
Grave-faced police inspector Erlendur (Ingvar E. Sigurdsson) investigates the murder of an elderly man named Holger, whose past near-convictions for rape haunt the community. As Erlendur digs deeper, however, a stranger conspiracy comes into focus, one involving the bloodline of several generations and an incurable disease that secretly haunts the town. Erlendur has his own bloodline problems, however: His daughter lives on the streets and mingles with drug addicts and sex fiends. By solving the mystery of Holger’s past, the frustrated cop might be able to figure out the key to his own problems as well.
Gorgeously shot against a seaside backdrop and filled with local color, Jar City unfolds like a noir from another planet. The plot is unnecessarily dense and often difficult to follow, but this allows Kormákur to highlight the detective’s personal woes as he sees them reflected in the situation at hand. While forensic evidence piles up, Erlendur grows even closer to unraveling the greater puzzle—namely, how to keep his family together. An early scene finds a young girl dying of the incurable disease at the heart of the enigmatic plot, and the tragedy is later mirrored by Erlandur’s own estranged relationship with his daughter. Frequently in the presence of death and the despair, the cop seems to embrace the bleak environment; but that’s a vice he must curb in order to keep his world in order. The world is a chaotic place in Jar City, but its conclusion—which, predictably enough, reveals everything—suggests there’s logic within the mayhem and a strategy for defeating it.
Grave-faced police inspector Erlendur (Ingvar E. Sigurdsson) investigates the murder of an elderly man named Holger, whose past near-convictions for rape haunt the community. As Erlendur digs deeper, however, a stranger conspiracy comes into focus, one involving the bloodline of several generations and an incurable disease that secretly haunts the town. Erlendur has his own bloodline problems, however: His daughter lives on the streets and mingles with drug addicts and sex fiends. By solving the mystery of Holger’s past, the frustrated cop might be able to figure out the key to his own problems as well.
Gorgeously shot against a seaside backdrop and filled with local color, Jar City unfolds like a noir from another planet. The plot is unnecessarily dense and often difficult to follow, but this allows Kormákur to highlight the detective’s personal woes as he sees them reflected in the situation at hand. While forensic evidence piles up, Erlendur grows even closer to unraveling the greater puzzle—namely, how to keep his family together. An early scene finds a young girl dying of the incurable disease at the heart of the enigmatic plot, and the tragedy is later mirrored by Erlandur’s own estranged relationship with his daughter. Frequently in the presence of death and the despair, the cop seems to embrace the bleak environment; but that’s a vice he must curb in order to keep his world in order. The world is a chaotic place in Jar City, but its conclusion—which, predictably enough, reveals everything—suggests there’s logic within the mayhem and a strategy for defeating it.
