Body kicks off with one of the strangest, most darkly comedic opening sequences in recent memory. A visibly deceased man, hanging by a noose from a tree, is cut down by crime scene investigators. As they discuss details of the apparent suicide, the man stands up and quietly begins to walk away. Thus begins Malgorzata Szumowska’s bizarre tale of grief and mental illness, which maintains the same level of absurdity throughout.

The tale of a middle-aged attorney (Janusz Gajos), his anorexic daughter (Justyna Suwala), and their grieving psychiatrist (Maja Ostaszewska), Body is an unusually crafted piece of cinema. Its humor is so dry that it’s almost nonexistent, but it often feels like the more intense, serious moments are played for laughs. It’s never completely apparent what Szumowska is going for. The psychiatrist’s unconventional relationship with her massive dog provides some hilarious insight into the woman’s life, and the interactions between the attorney and his daughter are uncomfortable to say the least. Body borders on surrealism at times, as the characters are almost too strange to exist in reality.

It’s not a particularly enjoyable film, but it’s certainly not a boring one. In the same year that saw the release of the late Marcin Wrona’s Demon, Body is yet another example of the daring cinema that’s currently coming out of Poland. It’s not for everyone, but it’s an interesting piece of art regardless.

Featuring shades of murder mystery and conspiracy film, Danish crime thriller The Keeper of Lost Causes follows a detective struggling to find his place in the world after being reassigned. Given strict orders to merely read through cold case files, Detective Carl Mørck (Nikolaj Lie Kaas) and his new assistant, Assad (Fares Fares), quickly become obsessed with solving the disappearance of politician Merete Lynggaard (Sonja Richter). The search for answers leads the duo down the path of the average mystery/procedural, where they run into a typical cast of characters.

In spite of its traditional, somewhat generic plot, The Keeper of Lost Causes keeps things entertaining thanks to a few subversions that help maintain an element of surprise. A brain-damaged witness provides a unique aspect, and the manner in which Carl and Assad go about interrogating the young man is oddly suspenseful. Unfortunately, The Keeper of Lost Causes lacks the element that makes the greatest detective stories so engaging—we never really come to know Carl and Assad. Only the basic nature of their characters is revealed (Carl is more of a hothead while Assad is a bit more meticulous), instead of providing development or a backstory. Performances from the two leads are good enough—certainly passable—but since the film simply doesn’t give the actors the opportunity to showcase their skills, the characters are forced to take a back seat to their investigation itself. With a running time of just over ninety minutes, there’s no reason why more character development couldn’t have been included, and it likely would’ve made the film feel more complete. But The Keeper of Lost Causes is entertaining enough to get a recommendation for fans of this brand of cinema.

In The Sinking of Sozopol, a middle-aged man returns to his childhood home with ten full bottles of vodka and a determination to empty each one. In his younger years, the formerly vibrant coastal town was the site of many poignant events, the bad seemingly outnumbering the good. Upon revisiting, the man’s emotional pilgrimage of sorts yields a plethora of tenderly recalled memories and the image of an ancient hamlet that is now cold and empty.

A torrential rain falls without pause, the waves hungrily lapping at the rocks as the waters rise; a collection of dogs without masters mournfully skulk about, their eyes on the sea and the depressed man who might be causing this steady engulfment. Before half the bottles are gone, familiar faces begin to arrive in Sozopol, all of them sent by a mysterious woman, and all of them curious about just what their friend expects to happen when the last drop of vodka is gone.

Director Kostadin Bonev tells this somber tale through an alternating structure of flashbacks and modern day conversations that unexpectedly dip into the metaphysical on occasion. Quasi-dreams and a couple of surreal moments are sprinkled throughout, and the use of editing to intermingle past and present furthers the somewhat playful approach.

But ultimately this is a largely straight-faced portrait of conflicted self-destruction, and the capacity that friendship and community have to help quell the inevitable storms of a troubled mind. It’s slightly monotonous in places and not as stirring in its thematic impetus as the premise promises, but the thoughtful script and frequently beautiful compositions pull it through.