The opening credits of Alberto Rodriguez’s atmospheric thriller Marshland feature striking satellite images of Guadalquivir River in Spain’s deep south, the intricate landscapes and weaving waterways looking like a nervous system, or internal organs – an autopsy of something once vibrant, now dead and scalped.
It’s a fitting visual metaphor for the tale ahead. Two polar opposite policemen, the meditative, left-wing Pedro (Ruan Arevalo) and uncouth cynic Juan (Javier Gutierrez), attempt to solve the case of a serial murderer who targets young women, desperate to leave their hopeless town. Set in 1980, the area is a Franco stronghold, and poverty, work strikes and police corruption have left the dirt-covered village in a state of political unrest and palpable disillusionment. There’s a disquieting menace to this town without dreams, with the crumbling buildings and labyrinthine marshes hinting at physical and moral decay. Rodriguez’s directing is quiet and slow, carefully building suspense as well as allowing his lead characters’ motivations to unfurl. Pedro’s rigid professionalism and weak stomach don’t serve him well in a town where dark secrets fester, while Juan’s casual brutality has a terrifying origin story of its own.
The airless mood of the piece is provided by cinematographer Alex Catalan and sound designer Daniel de Zayas – the former creating overhead images of vast, muddy desolation, the latter adding to the menace with a constant siren call of birds, frogs and insects. Some plot holes and a confusing ambiguity linger in the film, and mood occasionally overtakes mechanics. Nonetheless, Marshland remains beautiful and gripping to the end.