Marshland (2014)

The original Spanish title literally translates to "The Minimal Island." Either way, the point is to call attention to a remote setting, possibly with a symbolic status in light of the bleakness.

Specifically, it's set in or near Spain's Guadalquivir Marshes, reputedly akin to the U.S. Deep South, in 1980. Two promiscuous teen sisters who wanted to move away are soon found murdered in one marsh, having been treated worse than the girls in The Last House on the Left, albeit thankfully not on screen. The two Madrid-based detectives assigned to the case, Juan (Javier Gutiérrez) and Pedro (Raúl Arévalo), have not worked together before and espouse rather different worldviews, but they're both determined to catch the killer(s) before another girl meets a similar fate.

Doesn't exactly sound innovative, does it? If there's one thing you'll find here and not in other murder mysteries, it's the newly post-Francisco Franco politics that pop up once in a while. Most notably, Juan stands accused of having oppressed protesters back in the day. He tries to assure Pedro he's misrepresented, but he doesn't speak out against Franco like Pedro does. None of this, however, has any bearing on the case, and to call it plot-important is a stretch. A suspect is dismissed from consideration probably for reasons of clout with corrupt officials, but that need not have anything to do with Franco.

In true neo-noir fashion, nobody comes out smelling rosy. The marshes are quite the haven for criminals. Pretty much everyone the detectives question has a skeleton in the closet, if not some level of responsibility for what happened to the girls. Few are remotely eager to assist in solving the mystery.

Critics overwhelmingly praise the film's atmosphere and acting, as well as occasionally the taut writing, but I can't help noticing that all its numerous awards are European and most are Spanish. I think you need a lot more familiarity with the culture than I have (after two visits to Spain) to fully appreciate it. For me, it's little more than a standard gritty police procedural. It's too slow for much excitement, and the detectives don't make any extraordinary deductions. I hardly even cared about the environment or the cinematography, whether because marshes look plain to me or because I was too distracted by the ugliness of the crimes. And I got no bonus from listening to the subbed dialogue, because for all my Latin American practice, I found these accents nigh impenetrable.

I dunno; maybe I just wasn't properly primed. Maybe I've been spoiled by more engrossing thrillers. You might like Marshland if you're up for more drear than complexity.