Pale Star is perhaps one of the few films in recent memory in which setting is just as important as storyline and character development and far more instrumental than dialogue. To paraphrase director Graeme Maley, the Icelandic location is one of the only places he’s been “where you could bury a dead body in a field and just forget about it”. Taking inspiration from such remote bleakness, the bodies certainly do soon pile up in this gritty Nordic thriller.

The story is delivered to the audience in piecemeal chunks, much like a flat-pack furniture set from nearby Sweden with more than a few crucial screws missing and no assembly instructions in sight. We are thrust into the thick of the action at the outset, the opening scene chronicling the murder of an (apparently) abusive husband from the point of view of their toddling child. The shaky camerawork is the only clue to from whose standpoint we witness the crime: it’s executed beautifully.

From here, we are spoonfed a series of fragmentary scenes which appear to bear little or no relation to one another: the murderess burning the body; the murderess visiting and having sex with an acquaintance; a Scottish tourist abandoning her husband in a caravan. All of these vignettes are recounted with sparse use of dialogue; other than some un-subtitled Icelandic formalities and a few Scottish expletives, we are given no aid in figuring out the characters’ circumstances or motives.

In place of words we are treated to an expertly-constructed soundtrack, which piles on the pressure through jarring instrumentals and spiky pacing. Indeed, along with the barren beauty of the backdrop and some fantastic acting from all involved (not least Þrúður Vilhjálmsdóttir, who plays the avenging wife), the musical composition is key in building such an intense atmosphere throughout.

But while this intensity is undoubtedly one of the movie’s strongest cards, it’s also perhaps its biggest drawback. When used more sparingly, the technique is incredibly powerful and effective. Here, it’s sustained for the entirety of the picture, overshadowing the plot itself and becoming exhausting before long. Though most of the violence (and rest assured, there’s violence by the shedload) occurs off-screen, it’s still jarring enough to leave the audience’s nerves in tatters as they attempt to work out just what the hell has gone down in this backwater boondocks.

For cinematography, musical composition and the ability to evoke powerful feelings in its audience, Pale Star is a resounding success. Its sometimes infuriatingly slow pace, muddled story and relentlessly bleak attitude take their toll, however, meaning there’s surely more to come from this promising director.