The Promised Land Review: Danish Epic Finds Fertile Soil

Danish Historical Epic The Promised Land Finds Fertile Soil

There are few faces in Danish cinema as recognizable as Mads Mikkelsen, who gained international recognition for shedding bloody tears as a Bond villain in Casino Royale and won over a legion of fans as the titular brain-eater in Hannibal. But while his striking profile and chilling screen presence have led to him frequently being cast as the villain in Hollywood, he’s logged a long list of performances in his native country that span a much wider range of personas. The Promised Land is a Danish-German-Swedish co-production that sees the actor take on the type of complex, morally ambiguous figure he’s frequently embodied in his home country.

Mikkelsen plays Ludvig Kahlen, a retired military officer living in 18th-century Denmark who’s hellbent on cultivating the Jutland heath, a stretch of land considered impossible to farm. If he can accomplish this seemingly undoable task, he’s been promised a noble title, a goal he chases with obsessive resolve. But beyond taming this infertile landscape, he also must contend with Frederik de Schinkel (Simon Bennebjerg), a sadistic magistrate willing to spill blood to ensure he retains control over the region. As Kahlen spends every penny of his meager pension to cultivate this space, a stand-off brews between these men, each determined to get his way.

While The Promised Land largely takes place on a relatively tiny plot of dirt in the Danish boonies, its filmmaking lends this struggle an expansive, David-versus-Goliath slant. Cinematographer Rasmus Videbæk and director Nikolaj Arcel contrast the breadth of the Jutland countryside against the smallness of our protagonist’s enterprise as he cuts through vast shrubland and tills acidic soil in what initially feels like a futile and hubristic effort. For generations, this backdrop has been viewed as untameable, and the rough foliage that stretches into the distance doesn’t exactly indicate that greener pastures are ahead.

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But of course, there wouldn’t be much of a film if this endeavor was completely hopeless, and as Kahlen inches towards success and burns through his savings to take on a larger crew of workers, tensions arise between our hero and his foe. The Promised Land may be a movie about agriculture, but there is a persistent undercurrent of danger from the anxiety that all this backbreaking labor could come undone at any moment. Being a farmer is brutal work in any era, and it doesn’t help when you have a powdered-wig-wearing sociopath breathing down your neck.

Bennebjerg’s de Schinkel is the type of hateable foil that makes us deeply want to see him hoisted with his own petard, a desire that helps drive the narrative. Bennebjerg captures the sniveling, unhinged qualities of a small man with a sizeable fortune who uses those around him to satisfy his whims or appease his anger, and his mistreatment of indentured serfs and serving girls who work under him works as an indictment for a feudal era where the whims of the powerful were particularly unchecked.

He’s a clear stand-in for a despicable ruling class, though de Schinkel’s diabolical tenor ends up feeling a tad out of place in an otherwise restrained flick. However, where Arcel and Anders Thomas Jensen’s screenplay is most pointed is in the more mundanely evil Royal Danish Court, which treats notions of justice as entirely secondary to political convenience, existing status and appealing to a distant king who always looms just out of frame.

Although the previously described struggle between our underdog protagonist and entrenched moneyed interests seems like it would position him as a folk hero, the reality is that, at least initially, Kahlen doesn’t want to subvert the status quo but simply seize a piece of the pie for himself. This framing makes his tireless toil an engrossing mixture of salt-of-the-earth effort and self-destructive drive, the lines between the two frequently blurred. He’s propelled by pride and never acts entirely out of charity, but he also isn’t rotten to the core, especially compared to his adversaries, making him a complex figure. Mikkelsen plays up this ambiguity brilliantly with a cold and difficult-to-parse bearing that feels in line with the laconic leading men of many traditional Westerns, a presentation that slowly opens up over time. As we learn more about his origin and why he’s so hellbent on climbing up in the world, we’re left unsure just how much he’s willing to sacrifice, creating a captivating push and pull.

We eventually come to know others who hitch their hopes and dreams to this long-shot endeavor as the group morphs into something of a found family. There’s Anton Eklund (Gustav Lindh), a kindly pastor; Ann Barbara (Amanda Collin), a tough, savvy maid turned frontierswoman; and Anmai Mus (Melina Hagberg), a sharp-tongued “Tatere” Romani girl who faces discrimination due to her darker complexion. The contrast between the harshness of this setting and the tenderness of these bonds makes it excruciating when Kahlen is forced to choose between them, his steely gaze finally breaking down under the weight of these unexpected connections.

I approached The Promised Land expecting an entirely self-serious ordeal tracking a larger-than-life feud, and although those elements are certainly present, they are only part of the picture. As for this initial promise, the ever-present conflict between Kahlen and de Schinkel drives the pacing, eventually resulting in explosions of violence—like a visceral scene of corporal punishment or a tensely shot nighttime raid. Period-appropriate costuming and set design place us in this era while emphasizing class distinctions, as we witness the contrast between long, grueling hours spent in the field and the lavishness of decadent manors. At times, it appears as though these people are marching towards inevitable, mutually assured destruction.

But what makes The Promised Land truly compelling is how it naturally grows into something else, as Kahlen nurtures a seed of doubt about his ultimate aims. Mads Mikkelsen deftly embodies these turns with subtle gestures that bring out internal struggles, and it’s deeply satisfying to watch as his icy demeanor at least marginally melts. The toughness of these surroundings makes it feel all the more precious when he finds his unexpected connections. But, thanks to Mikkelsen’s performance and Kahlen’s characterization, even at the heights of their happiness, there is a genuine uncertainty around how things will break, a relative rarity in a storytelling landscape where the protagonist’s final decision often comes across as perfunctory and obvious. It all comes together to make The Promised Land a stirring historical epic that balances its grandiose framing with something surprisingly grounded and genuine. A bountiful harvest indeed.

Director: Nikolaj Arcel
Writer: Nikolaj Arcel, Anders Thomas Jensen
Starring: Mads Mikkelsen, Amanda Collin, Simon Bennebjerg, Melina Hagberg, Kristine Kujath Thorp, Gustav Lindh
Release Date: February 2, 2024

Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves videogames, film, and creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to. You can follow him on Twitter @eli_gonzalez11.

Danish Historical Epic The Promised Land Finds Fertile Soil