BY JOHN MCDONALD FEBRUARY 20, 2024
The cinema of Denmark can be categorized by its endless questions surrounding morality, the technical innovation in which they are represented, and the sexual frankness that transpires in so many of the country’s great films. The Promised Land or, Bastarden to give it its Danish title, is the latest film from the nation to express the above motifs. It is a tale that seems simple at first glance, but within The Promise Land is some exquisite storytelling, phenomenal acting, and a plethora of technical qualities that allow this film to soar.
SYNOPSIS
Nikolaj Arcel’s period film set in 18th century Denmark is based on 'The Captain and Ann Barbara' by Ida Jessen, which explores the life of Ludvig Kahlen and his quest to create a settlement on a seemingly inhabitable land while trying to manoeuvre the countless curveballs thrown at him by a vicious landowner.
REVIEW
The scene is set, it’s 18th-century Denmark and the impoverished war hero, Captain. Ludvig Kahlen (Mads Mikkelsen) has come back from 25 years in the German army and returned with an optimistic dream. Ludvig’s goal is to tame a vast and uninhabitable land where nothing can grow (so it has been deemed after years of futile efforts), but Ludvig has a special crop that he thinks will flourish in this barren land. After acquiring the permits to work and live on the land, and with the prize of lush new titles by the crown if he succeeds, Ludvig gets to work with a measly crew of farmhands and a runaway couple. There’s still one major issue though, and it’s a big one, the cruel landowner that rules over the land, Frederick De Schinkel (Simon Bennebjerg), claims this area as his own (which isn’t completely true) and it sets the course for a battle of wits between the two morally contrasting men.
Over the next few months, Ludvig’s dream is starting to take shape, even with the leftfield tactics used by his adversary. During his mission, Ludvig is aided by the fearsome Ann Barbara (Amanda Collin) - with the two growing closer and closer due to the tight confines of their remote home - and the exiled young outlaw, Anmai Mus (Melina Hagberg) - an idyllic little family life none of them knew they needed could very well be coming true. However, inching closer and closer is the looming threat of Schinkel… sorry, De Schinkel (it does sound more noteworthy, doesn’t it?) and his desperate need to stay relevant is becoming more apparent the nearer Ludvig gets to success.
Period films are not for everyone; they can often suffer from an anxiously slow pace which results in… boredom, let's not beat around the bush – but this is no mere period piece, not by any means because it has so many strings to its bow that transport it do several eclectic realms. There are moments of violence spread throughout, and even if they are sparse, each section of action delivers its own prowess. Whether it’s a perfectly timed and choreographed fight scene or a brutal depiction of that era's torture practices, it gives the film an edge; a realistic nastiness that ups the tempo just when things feel like dropping, ever so slightly.
It is, however, the romantic element that the film confesses which becomes the most delightful narrative centrepiece, and the aspect that made the book so successful. It is a tragic tale between two characters whose “hearts belong to others” but they develop a connection with one another that some people spend their whole lives searching for. It develops into something truly special with the addition of Anmai Mus though, and a family bond unites from within, but just as the warmth has settled onto the picture; engulfing it with a cosy feeling and with aspirations to end on a high, the sentimentality is soon ripped apart by another moment of travesty.
As expected, Mikkelsen is the film’s standout performer. He’s the A-lister, the world star and he showcases it as the stoic hero with a moral compass and fearless attitude for justice. He ramps things up in this film as well, effortlessly switching from efficient killer before hibernating back into his loveable, family man persona that encompasses the middle part of the film. Amanda Collin also turns in an emphatically rich performance as the stern and fierce housemaid which often equals the execution of her co-star, but she particularly comes into her own, in a blaze of glory might I add, during the film’s final act. Simon Bennebjerg's portrayal of the deranged antagonist is that of a pantomime villain too. His take on this emotionally fragile man-child is evil and twisted, but magnetic as well, and it’s a credit to him and the writing for making this character what it is.
When you think about it, The Promised Land has all the hallmarks of a Western. A former soldier turned rancher aims to adopt an area of land while outlaws attempt to ravish it, and the aristocracy has their own devilish plans as well. The romantic subplot with the widowed female fatale (it’s all becoming very clear now, isn’t it), the setting itself in all its vast glory and this film could very well star John Wayne in place of Mikkelsen and you wouldn’t bat an eyelid. And like every great classic western, The Promised Land also makes use of some exquisite cinematography that really expands and illuminates this intriguing land through a mixture of conventional framing and unconventional angles.
The Promised Land is a top-tier film with endless star quality which makes it a certified gem to the ever-growing and unique spectacle that is Danish cinema. Caked in tension, covered majestically in a shroud of beauty and simplicity, but when stripped down,
there is a powerfully emotional story about hope, loyalty, morality, loneliness, passionate love, and family. With it being so early in the year, let’s hope this isn’t one of those films that are forgotten about by the year’s end because it deserves to be seen by the masses, and on the biggest screen possible as well.
STAR RATING
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