An excellent psychological drama about a cooly repressed detective unable to own up to causing the accidental death of his partner, at the same time he is persuing an author suspected of killing his young girlfriend. The detective story isn't important here - the detective has no trouble locating the killer, understanding his motives, or "solving" the crime. What is interesting is the detective's inablility to deal with his problems and face life truthfully, metaphorically illustrated by his inability to block out the sunlight and sleep. Stellan Skarsgard gives a very good performance as the detective struggling to keep control of himself and the situation. As he becomes more and more tired, his life and his desires race out of control, and his need to maintain his facade causes him to make decisions that take him to the edge of catastropy.
This film is understated in a way that the 2002 Al Pacino remake missed the boat on. It takes place in Norway, and the director resisted the temptation to show us a travelog of cute Norwegian villages. Most of the action takes place in non-descript rooms, suffused with the cold grey light of the arctic sun. The acting is understated and viewers are left to understand motivations without explicit explanation. The film is engrossing from beginning to end, and I'll never understand why Hollywood feels it needs to try to do better - it rarely can.
