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The Promised Land A tale of Triumph
In comparison to “The Promised Land,” “The Promised Land” deserves a more sensational title: it’s hard to hear those worn-out words and not expect something more than just beige and starched disappointment on its mere name. In reality, it’s something more.
The translation of Nikolaj Arcel’s original Danish title for the film as “The Bastard” adds a layer of meaning, serving a dual purpose for both of its male leads, and it captures the grandeur of an improbable historical romance better, one that can deliver a splendid display of scores, but slowly reveals the heart of its own command over the dashing boys.
Fictitious yet nestled in historical facts, it blends the story’s romanticism and splendid cartoon villainy with flair, ultimately giving credit to all of its remaining glory (and at least half of its charm) to the expressive woodcut scene of Mads Mikkelsen.
Speaking of that face, those prominent cheekbones and the cold, tilted chin: it’s the face that Hollywood reserves for only the sharpest of villains, from the alluring young Hannibal Lecter to the ultimate “Indiana Jones” attempt during Nazi times.
Meanwhile, in the domestic arena, Denmark’s Jutland Heath becomes a symbol of rugged masculinity, with the fiercely respectable Alpha Lindt juxtaposed against it.
Here, it’s definitely the case where Mikkelsen’s translation of the real-life 18th-century military captain Ludvig Kahle resonates, a fatherless, rough-rooted man who challenges the conventional notions of rising through the ranks in the military for his class of boys.
His determination and the strength of his valor. Perhaps the American casting directors will soften it up, replacing him with a soft-faced Simon Bezenberg, where Kahle will be a coal-soulful, humble servant of the noble Das clan. It’s reassuring that Denmark relies on a swift, nuanced angle.
Also, tough and rough, and quite beautiful? Denmark’s Jutland Heath, a vast expanse of land almost barren due to the destruction by Stone Age farmers, where only the mauve-brown heather manages to survive its gritty soil.
The introductory title cards invite foreign residents to try their hand at farming on this 18th-century governmental policy that invited foreign residents to settle on the land, with very little success.
“Heath cannot be tamed,” it’s finally written – a very unique prelude, politely asking the audience, “Or can it?” as the grand Kahle enters the scene with his proud woodcut.
After leaving the military, Kahle applies for permission to create a farming settlement on Heath and demands a great title if successful.
This “peasant in the officer’s uniform” is scorned by his superiors, including the contemptuous Minister who accepts his request; with the help of loyal household servants Ein and Barbara (Amanda Collin), as well as a spirited team of laborers, Kahle establishes a rural farmhouse and gets to work.
Unfazed by his superiors, he has an ambitious plan for a hardy crop that can grow in this inhospitable land: potatoes, they’re called. Maybe you’ve heard of them.
This is a solid and gutsy plan, and if neighbor and rival landowner Frederik de Shinkel (Bezenberg) doesn’t have undue envy, a small local tyrant who insists on the ownership of the thicketed land despite Kahle’s permission from the king, then it will progress quite swiftly.
In fact, Arsene’s and Anders Thomas Jensen’s screenplay tackles issues of racial prejudice (such as Kahle’s German migrant workers keeping a distance from the dark-skinned Anamai) and Kahle, Barbara, and De Shinkel’s imprisoned half-brother Adel (Kristian Huth-Thorp) – such subplots where all the violence, bloodshed, and gasping for breath take place in a tight space.
But all of this is woven together because Mikkelsen’s wounded, sulking performance adds more emotional significance to its more ambitious ambitions, and partially because Arsene, after a costume drama like his 2012 “A Royal Affair,” returns comfortably to the domestic field.
“The Dark Tower” – a grand duration of film production with a pleasant strong experience.Like Arsene’s 2012 costume “A Royal Affair,” “The Promised Land” fills its vast screen with a lot of substance but not noise.
Shooting in the vast Danish Republic with sweeping, varnished lenses turns Heath into a wavy and cold Nordic desert of sorts, except when a blanket of snow covers its natural hardships.
The rich production design by Jet Lehman and the wardrobe by Kiki Islander try their best to highlight the peculiarities of only the rich while the heroes are bundled up in layers and clad in wooden sheds.
A subtly constructed narrative, Bezenberg’s sitting flop presents, shines a light on the dichotomy between good and evil, gradually transforming political intricacies and matters of the heart into a pleasant Shakespearean confrontation between light and dark.
And pure evil, then flares up when de Shinkel – now exiled and consumed with revenge – captures the latter again and brutally murders him.
An exhausted Anamai, left alone due to the departure of other workers, takes refuge in Kahle’s home as a maid, and the courageous Romani orphan Anamai (Melina Haigberg) is gradually making her place in the house, forming a fragile temporary family unit.
If only in the muddy quagmire of the abyss, the resentful landlord, who is reluctant to provide any respite to the good farmer and does not murder the one helping him, were the “Promised Land” to come forward as a subtle, finely balanced Western-style showdown, a duel between the stove and the house would be much stranger.
With its intense script, it also addresses issues of racial prejudice (such as Kahle’s German migrant workers keeping a distance from the dark-skinned Anamai) and Kahle, Barbara, and De Shinkel’s imprisoned half-brother Adel (Kristian Huth-Thorp) – such subplots where all the violence, bloodshed, and gasping for breath take place in a tight space.
But all of this is woven together because Mikkelsen’s wounded, sulking performance adds more emotional significance to its more ambitious ambitions, and partially because Arsene, after a costume drama like his 2012 “A Royal Affair,” returns comfortably to the domestic field.
“The Dark Tower” – a grand duration of film production with a pleasant strong experience.Like Arsene’s 2012 costume “A Royal Affair,” “The Promised Land” fills its vast screen with a lot of substance but not noise.
Shooting in the vast Danish Republic with sweeping, varnished lenses turns Heath into a wavy and cold Nordic desert of sorts, except when a blanket of snow covers its natural hardships.
The rich production design by Jet Lehman and the wardrobe by Kiki Islander try their best to highlight the peculiarities of only the rich while the heroes are bundled up in layers and clad in wooden sheds.
A subtly constructed narrative, Bezenberg’s sitting flop presents, shines a light on the dichotomy between good and evil, gradually transforming political intricacies and matters of the heart into a pleasant Shakespearean confrontation between light and dark.
And pure evil, then flares up when de Shinkel – now exiled and consumed with revenge – captures the latter again and brutally murders him.