It
is 1980 in Spain—a time when all able bodied men were required to carry
moustaches. The nation was also in the midst of transitioning to a more
democratic form of government, which was all very nice, but rather inconvenient
timing for homicide detective Juan Robles. He has been dispatched to the rural
south to find missing twin girls, but finds evidence of a depraved serial
killer instead. He would like to cut his usual corners, but his crusading
partner and CYA-ing superiors will force him to do things the hard way in
Alberto Rodríguez’s Marshland (trailer here), which screens
during the 2016 Portland International Film Festival.
Initially,
Robles and reform-minded Pedro Suárez treat the disappearance of Carmen and
Estrella as a missing person case, but they find their bodies all too quickly.
More unsettling, they are soon presented with circumstantial evidence linking
the murder of the twins with the deaths or disappearances of several other
local girls. They all went missing around the time of the annual carnival and
each were somehow linked to the village’s sleazy lothario, “Quini” Varela.
However, Varela’s blood type is different from what was recovered from the
bodies—and he seems to know it.
As
Robles and Suárez pursue Varela’s accomplice, differences in their methods and
backgrounds lead to conflict. Suárez is currently out of favor within the
police establishment, because of an open letter he sent to the newspapers
protesting departmental corruption. On the other hand, Robles’ long tenure of
service under Franco makes him highly suspect.
With
Marshland, Rodríguez steps up his
game tremendously from the disappointingly middling Unit 7. While staying within the police procedural sub-genre, he
shows a mastery of mood and fully capitalizes on the lonely but cinematic
wetland backdrops. If not exactly a whodunit per se, the particulars of their
case are highly compelling. By the standards of Spanish cinema, it is also
relatively reserved in its Franco-era score-settling, mostly using the legacy
of the old regime to create tension for the reluctant partners.
Javier
Gutiérrez is total dynamite as the roguish old tougher-than-he-looks Robles.
Wiry like a coiled spring, he might be fun to drink with, but he is all kinds dangerous.
Gutiérrez convincingly conveys his charismatic charm and the ruthlessness he
can turn on like a light switch. Raúl Arévalo does his best to keep up, but Suárez’s
goody-two-shoes persona is no match for Robles’ grand complexities. However,
Salva Reina adds some nice salty flavor as Jesús, the rustic outcast who
becomes the coppers’ guide through the treacherous marshes.
