“A White, White Day” is an eerily beautiful Icelandic slow-burn about irrational and mentally unstable Ingimundur (Ingvar Sigurdsson), a smalltown cop who suspects that his late wife was having an affair. The story, in essence, is about a man’s spiral from grief to suspicion to rage. He’s looking for clues; he has a good idea of who it may have been and he will go as far as to stalk the man if it means getting ultimate revenge. To make matters worse, Ingimundur now cares for his eight-year-old granddaughter (Ída Mekkín Hlynsdóttir), but he is clearly unfit to do that job. You see, this bearded alpha male has hyper anger management issues, and let’s just say that these issues tend to get the best of him. Stealing evidence and files about his wife’s accident from the office, in front of his child no less, Ingimundur physically rages against anyone who dares defy him, including fellow officers. Not even therapy sessions with his shrink George (Þór Tulinius) help his mental state. Shot in mournfully slow and dreamy fashion by director Hlynur Pálmason, the film is played out in a coldly detached fashion meant to parallel the glacial Nordic weather that the film depicts. The decision by Palmason to parcel out basic information for a more meditative approach will test the audience’s patience, and it does turn out to be detrimental to the film’s sluggish initial hour. The third act climax is when the tensions rise and the drama that has been building up very slowly but surely finally gets unleashed via a fury of violence. [B-]