‘The Promised Land’ review: Mads Mikkelsen smolders beautifully in Nikolaj Arcel’s gripping historical epic

While The promised land sounds more subdued than the original Danish title, Bastards (The Bastard), there is nothing tame or prosaic about Nikolaj Arcel’s muscular historical drama. Reuniting the director with Mads Mikkelsen after their riveting collaboration in 2012, A royal affair, the new film shows once again that historical pieces can be powerful, powerful and emotionally moving, enriched with themes of class, racism, sexual abuse, labor exploitation and chosen families. It’s a fine production that shows all the virtues of confident old-fashioned storytelling, without a trace of shakiness.

While Mikkelsen has built a solid career in international films since grabbing attention as a charismatic Bond villain in Casino royalefilms from his native Denmark, such as The hunt, Other round and this one continues to best showcase the actor’s range. The illegitimate son of a nobleman and a maid determined to raise his status, he brings magnetic stoicism, imposing physicality and soulful introspection to a character who might have felt at home in a John Ford saga.

Mikkelsen plays Ludvig Kahlen, who defied his humble roots by rising to the rank of captain and being decorated for his military service in mid-18th century Denmark. A proud man of drive and ambition, he submits a proposal to cultivate the arid Jutland moors and establish a settlement there, a potentially lucrative project dear to the king and which has defeated many men before Loedvig.

The Royal Treasury’s bean counters scoff at the idea of ​​pouring more money into what they consider a lost cause. But Kahlen offers to fund the venture with his soldier’s pension, asking for a title of nobility and an estate with servants in return. Seeing no chance of success, the bureaucrats agree, assuming they can keep the king happy without any effort.

With nothing but a horse, a tent, a gun to protect himself from bandits and a few tools to hack away at the hard ground, believed to be nothing but sand and rocks covered with coarse heather, Ludvig smashes his camp and endure the harsh elements. Eventually he finds soil that can be mixed with coastal clay to grow potatoes, a crop he imported from Germany.

But from the start he forms a formidable enemy in Frederik De Schinkel (Simon Bennebjerg), the district judge who added the “De” to his name to make it sound more aristocratic. De Schinkel, a ruthless landowner who makes his servants work like animals and rapes any maid of his choice, takes advantage of Copenhagen’s remoteness to ignore the monarchy and claim the territory as his own. When Ludvig rebels against him and insists it is the land of the king, he impresses De Schinkel’s cousin Edel (Kristine Kujath Thorp), who is forced to marry Frederik due to her family’s financial problems.

De Schinkel makes it difficult for Ludvig to find the workers needed to prepare the land for planting. But a young pastor (Anton Eklund) brings him a runaway couple, Johannes (Morten Hee Andersen) and Ann Barbara (Amanda Collin), who have escaped De Schinkel’s brutality; Ludvig agrees to provide them with work and shelter, despite the legal risk. He also strikes a deal to employ the bandits living in the forest, including a young Roma orphan girl, Anmai Mus (Melina Hagberg), disparagingly called a ‘darkling’ and who the superstitious Danish peasants believe brings bad luck.

Based on the 2020 historical novel by Ide Jessen The Captain and Ann Barbara, Arcel and Anders Thomas Jensen’s script lays out the exposition with smooth efficiency and crisp character definition. The film takes us through the increasing challenges Ludvig faces, as De Schinkel and his cronies play increasingly dirty, enlisting a group of murderous thugs to help when Kahlen begins to make progress. A callous display of vengeance by the landowner at the harvest ball is gruesome in its barbarity and underscores the petulant tyrant’s belief that he can make his own laws.

Alongside the escalating battle of wills between Kahlen and De Schinkel, the writers trace the delicate arc of Ludwig and Ann Barbara’s relationship, which begins as master and housekeeper but evolves into a deeper alliance as circumstances erase the boundaries between them. The energetic Anmai Mus also adopts them as surrogate parents and slowly wins Ludvig over, leading to difficult choices when settlers sent by the king refuse her presence.

Collin shows real fire in the role of a woman who has undergone humiliating treatment and has vowed never to submit to it again, while Mikkelsen brings solemn depths to a taciturn man whose plan to move forward is thwarted almost every time. Even as he reacts with burning indignation to De Schinkel’s most unscrupulous tactics, Mikkelsen’s performance remains measured, with Ludvig’s emotions largely internalized to great effect.

Arcel directs with a steady hand that balances the gripping tension of an outsider family struggling to stay together with the betrayal of an antagonist whose ruthlessness knows no bounds, yielding tense action, just as Ludvig seems to have succeeded in his endeavors .

Elements that could have ended up in the melodrama – Ludvig’s hints of romance with Edel, for example, which complicates his relationship with Ann Barbara – are kept in check by the disciplined direction and strong ensemble, and even though the villain threatens to become overripe at times, the payback period all the more satisfying. This is a great Scandinavian western that maintains its appeal all the while, while the reality is a constant reminder to Ludvig that hard work and honesty don’t always pay off.

Cinematographer Rasmus Videbæk’s widescreen compositions lend imposing weight to the rugged landscape; Jette Lehmann’s production design emphasizes the contrast between the simple structures built on the desolate heath and the pompous grandeur of De Schinkel’s residence, Hald Manor; and Dan Romer’s robust orchestral score fuels the film’s epic nature. The promised land is a great story driven by skillful writing and strong performances. There is an art to bringing vitality and modernity to historical drama, and Arcel shows a good understanding of it.