Directed By Nikolaj Arcel

Starring – Mads Mikkelsen, Amanda Collin, Gustav Lindh

The Plot – Danish soldier Ludvig Kahlen (Mikkelsen) arrives in 1755 on the barren Jutland heath with a single goal: to follow the king’s call to cultivate the land and thereby achieve wealth and honor himself. But Kahlen quickly makes an enemy out of the merciless landowner, Frederik De Schinkel (Simon Bennebjerg), who is sole ruler of the area, believes that the heath belongs to him and not the king. When De Schinkel’s serf runs away with his wife Ann Barbara (Collin) and seeks refuge with Kahlen, the landowner does everything to drive Kahlen away and at the same time exact a cruel revenge. Kahlen does not bow, but stubbornly takes up the unequal battle and now risks both his life, but also the bond with the small, troubled family that has arisen around him on the heath.

Rated R for bloody violence, adult language, some sexuality and brief nudity.

The Promised Land – Official Trailer | Starring Mads Mikkelsen | Directed by Nikolaj Arcel (youtube.com)

POSITIVES

This marks my second experience with the works of Arcel, and first since 2014’s dreadfully awful “The Dark Tower” adaptation made me angrier than I’ve ever been while reviewing a film, but it’s clear that Nikolaj has used the decade since to hone in on his craft and elicit one gritty, grueling epic about how far one person will go to fulfill their grandest ambitions, with one of Mikkelsen’s strongest performances to date maximizing its potential. It’s a harrowing drama on the surface, but a Western at its core, with all of the assembled familiar pieces of the genre easily attainable, yet redistributed in ways that breeds new life into such an enthralling story about perseverence and hope against overwhelming odds, while Arcel himself squeezes every drop of dramatic tension and urgency into the storytelling that he uses to effortlessly cross the movie’s two hour run time. One that sees as much violence and brutality as it does scale and scope, with articulently engrossing cinematography from Rasmus Videbaek, winner of Best European Cinematography at last year’s European Film Awards, casting a moodily entrancing spell over the audience, and three-dimensional emphasis in the elements of the environment that only magnify Kahlen’s dance with difficulty, as he tries to essentially make something out of nothing. Whether in the overhanging fog that plays into the mystique and ambiance of the grim setting, or the weathered color pallets of the grading itself, this film has no shortage of transfixing beauty beneath its brutal bouts of violent expressionism, setting a coldly honest stage for Kahlen that is merely the opening note in an uncontrollable symphony of devastation that hinder his ambition. The character of Kahlen himself is fascinating for the dreaded disposition of being at odds with a government that he himself spent twenty years fighting for, but especially in the conflict of the character’s own momentary impulses to open himself up to the benefits of communication, which could easily break him and his outlook with deception that seems so possible in trusting so many strangers with his livelihood. When he periodically gives in and allows genuine emotion to shine through his rocky exterior, it casts insight into the man he was before war and politics shaped him for the worst, all the while forcing him to re-examine his outlook on the manifestation of the town, which only further drives his intentions towards fighting for it against such overwhelming adversity. Mikkelsen showcases vulnerability as a strength to be rewarded, instead of a weakness to be punished, with exterior stoicism and interior tenderness that endears him to the audience, without sacrificing the integrity of the character that could otherwise make him feel like two different people, at any given moment. In addition, Mads’ mesmerizing magnetism molds lived-in realism to what is otherwise a deceptively simplistic character outline, inspiring a commitment to craft that very few actors today can capably reach, without a single solitary delivery that feels undercooked or out of place in the consistency of his screen dependency. In addition, Bennebjerg revels in the confines of the devilishly devious, as a limitation in screen time is overcome by credibility in delivery that feels so believable, outlining a detestable antagonist who the audience will hate to love and love to hate, simultaneously. Aside from the performances, the core of the film’s production values equally balance the immersion established by the aforementioned alluring imagery in cinematography, primarily in elements of lighting, costume and sound designs, which brandish authenticity in the film’s timely framing device. The lighting balances day to night transitions between natural lighting and a combination of fires and candles, which emit a luminous glow to the already entrancing presentation, and boldly enveloping sound schemes conjure impulsive realities within the immense and seemingly never-ending landscapes that embody this newfound land, in everything from heightened chirping to engulfing windstorms. That leaves only the costume designs, which thread the needle seamlessly with not only timely, but also geographically relevant Victorian gowns and suits that decorate the ever-growing ensemble. What I appreciate is the lack of showicism that comes with their appeal that refuses to take away focus from the story, and instead blends effortlessly into the magnitude of the corresponding sets and decoration, standing as one more transformative element that grasps the realities of 18th century Danish imagery. Lastly, the film never stalls its execution inside of two grueling hours, instead valuing urgency in the unforeseen developments that keep the storytelling and its protagonist often on edge throughout the duration. This is particularly special because the script’s structure does tustle with repetition throughout most of its first two acts, but as a testament perhaps to Arcel’s writing, the film never loses sight of the stakes and humanity that constantly hang in the balance, in turn preheating the oven for inevitible conflict that does lead to one earth-shaking climax.

NEGATIVES

While nothing terribly traumatic to the integrity of the finished product, two key ingredients didn’t stir as fluidly to the foundation of the experience, resulting in momentary lapses of inferiority that tested my engagement. For starters, most of the supporting characters are undercooked to the point that I often forgot about their relevance to the story, whenever they disappeared for noticeable lapses in the storytelling, and while it’s a difficult matter of standing up to Mikkelsen’s talents and spell over the audience, I wish they were given better material to at least attempt attaining such a monumental feat. The greatest of these is easily in the love triangle of sorts between Kahlen and two other female characters, where one comes out of nowhere with little to no preconceived evidence that emotions were trending that way, and the other is forgotten about nearly all together, until the film absolutely requires her presence to side her on one side of the conflict over the other. I would never dream of adding more time to a two hour engagement that feels earned and simultaneously effective, but I just wish some of the initial steps in development included more of their influence, especially since Kahlen’s heart comes to be a major focal point of the movie’s focus, during the second act. My only other gripe with interpretation came in the confines of the movie’s sound mixing, which occasionally unnaturally elevated the character dialogue to overwhelm amplified environmental elements that were the whole point of the scene’s purpose. Such an example comes across in a major snowstorm that hits unceremoniously, and while the production does a great job articulating the overwhelming wind patterns that cripple the conditions, I shouldn’t be able to hear the characters perfectly without them shouting. This obviously isn’t the only time throughout the film that dialogue feels unnaturally elevated, as even normal scenes of character interaction, at a reasonable volume, feel overpowered and incohesive within the depths of their articulated environments, leading to what is either jarring audio deposits in post-production, or elevated volume controls that are turned up far too high.

OVERALL
“The Promised Land” lives up to its promise with a brutally gripping plunge into 18th century classism that spawns no shortage of urgency or vulnerability to Nikolaj Arcel’s neo-western achievement. With a mesmerizing turn from Mads Mikkelsen inside of a thorough and multi-dimensional character study, as well as transformative elements of production whisking us away to a time of grave uncertainty, the film is a refreshing cinematic triumph to the epics that they unfortunately no longer make, reminding us to dig deeper for the things in this world worth fighting for.

My Grade: 8/10 or A-