Reedland

Well-made arthouse films are, without a doubt, the cinematic genre that I enjoy most. Which is why movies that unsuccessfully attempt to pass themselves off as such annoy me to no end, particularly when they give the genre itself an undeserved reputation. Regrettably, that’s very much the case with writer-director Sven Bresser’s debut feature outing, “Reedland.” When widowed Dutch reed cutter Johan (Gerrit Knobbe) stumbles upon the corpse of a young woman in one of his fields, he’s troubled at what he finds. It’s suggested (though never made especially clear) that he feels guilty about this disturbing finding on his property, so he subsequently launches into an impromptu investigation of his own to discover the truth behind this unsettling incident, despite warnings from authorities advising against this. That, in itself, should make for an engaging premise, but, disappointingly, the filmmaker fails on this point. He loses control of the story, dressing it up with a wealth of visually stunning cinematography in an attempt to cover this offering’s many shortcomings. However, no amount of admittedly gorgeous imagery can make up for a lack of a coherent, comprehensible narrative, the primary undermining culprit in this production. For starters, what should be the core story element is largely (and inexplicably) forgotten once introduced. Even though passing references to it are scattered throughout the picture, they’re bafflingly intercut with long, lingering images of reed fields blowing in the wind, frequent protracted sequences of Johan walking or driving, segments of a loving grandfather doting on his young granddaughter (Loïs Reinders), and countless extended closeups of the protagonist silently emoting (but never really cluing us in on what he’s pondering). Complicating matters further are the inclusion of several largely mishandled illusory sequences and a number of oddly conceived scenes involving a noisy malfunctioning washing machine, a graphic equine insemin...