Is this a homicide detective or a bespectacled primary school teacher i see before me in that thick wool knit jumper? With his frumpy dumpy side kick. Who looks like she might have knitted the jumper for him. Turns out he – Erlendur – (Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson) is no pussy though. Hard as a bag of hammers with his glasses off.
What more can you want? Murder "thriller" set in chilly Iceland. Usually I don't do crime capers. But gets a vigorous nod of interest simply for being set in Sigur Rosland. Merely point the camera at all that moody isolation and bleak melancholy – and you've got wild and windy (and woolly) scenarios immediately on tap. Elemental my dear Watson.
A choiry backing track gets a bit annoying piping off a portentous kind of churchy religiosity.
Understanding information-ladened subplots while reading subtitles is tricky/tiring/tiresome.
In the end this is standard issue telly crime, the kind of police procedural that rolls out the ITV pop-slot ad-nausem at 9 o'clock (although this was shown on BBC 4, the go-to channel for miserable subtitled Scandinavian crime drama)
Mind you, Inspector Frost wouldn't tuck into a plate of singed sheep's head for his supper (while reading a bit of Bible) But this is Iceland after all – the land of ice and idiosyncrasy.
What more can you want? Murder "thriller" set in chilly Iceland. Usually I don't do crime capers. But gets a vigorous nod of interest simply for being set in Sigur Rosland. Merely point the camera at all that moody isolation and bleak melancholy – and you've got wild and windy (and woolly) scenarios immediately on tap. Elemental my dear Watson.
A choiry backing track gets a bit annoying piping off a portentous kind of churchy religiosity.
Understanding information-ladened subplots while reading subtitles is tricky/tiring/tiresome.
In the end this is standard issue telly crime, the kind of police procedural that rolls out the ITV pop-slot ad-nausem at 9 o'clock (although this was shown on BBC 4, the go-to channel for miserable subtitled Scandinavian crime drama)
Mind you, Inspector Frost wouldn't tuck into a plate of singed sheep's head for his supper (while reading a bit of Bible) But this is Iceland after all – the land of ice and idiosyncrasy.