'The Promised Land' Review: Mads Mikkelsen Magnifies the Screen in Gripping Old-School Drama
Nikolaj Arcel’s The Promised Land contains one of Mads Mikkelsen’s greatest performances inside an old-school, but always riveting, character drama.
The premise of Nikolaj Arcel’s The Promised Land (Bastarden) is simple enough: a Danish captain sets out to grow potatoes on the Jutland Heath, where seemingly nothing can grow, so he can benefit from the title of Baron once settlers install themselves on the land after the potatoes have grown. That captain’s name is Ludvig Kahlen (Mads Mikkelsen), and is a real-life character who acted as the basis of the story for Ida Jessen’s The Captain and Ann Barbara, to which the film is based on.
The Promised Land tells a rather classic story told in many old-school Westerns, where characters fight for the property of an inhabited land. Kahlen believes he has the right to build a colony there since it is the King’s land, and he was granted permission from the Royal Court to attempt to grow his potatoes. However, magistrate Frederik de Schinkel (Simon Bennebjerg) tells Ludvig it is his land. He has been trying to monopolize ownership of the heath and attempts to get Ludvig into signing a contract where 50% of the profits of the land would go to him.
Ludvig immediately refuses, thus ensuing a conflict between the two. The rest of the movie portrays that conflict with incredibly stark brutality, with Ludvig defending his land with Ann Barbara (Amanda Collin), a former housekeeper of de Schinkel, who fled his manor after being raped by him, with the magistrate attempting to remove Ludvig by force, killing his animals and the settlers who are sent by the King to live here.
There are virtually no surprises in its story or character development. Once everything is laid out in front of the audience, the rest of The Promised Land is as clear-cut as possible. However, it’s also part of what makes this film so great. Arcel doesn’t need to focus on details that aren’t significant to what’s on screen and instead diverts his attention to the core of the story, which is the fully-formed characters who populate its world. Because of this, we ultimately care about everyone on screen, and the drama drawn between the protagonist and antagonist itself becomes gripping.
Again, this is a classic good versus evil story. Once de Schinkel shows up, it’s almost painstakingly obvious that he is the villain of the film, from the evil grin he has on his face for most of the runtime to the insidious way he never hides his intentions from Ludvig. By doing so, Arcel crafts a far more compelling antagonist than if he had wanted to take Ludvig’s land in a subtle way. He immediately says what he wants to Ludvig during their first meeting, and when the captain ultimately refuses, it doesn’t take long for de Schinkel to go after him.
As the main antagonist, Bennebjerg imbues his portrayal with absolute disgust from the minute he appears to his final scene, which may or may not prompt cheers at the cinema once he ultimately gets what he deserves. The man is a purely despicable creature, perhaps too caricatured, but it almost doesn’t matter. To show you the extent of how awful of a human being he is, de Schinkel tortures one of his prisoners, who escaped his hand and was found during a reception. When his advisor (Thomas W. Gabrielsson) tells him to stop, as the public is no longer on his side, he continues to do so until he dies.
De Schinkel will never take no for an answer, just like Ludvig won’t be intimidated by tiny little despots who are, as he describes, completely insignificant to what he wants to do. It’s almost inspiring to see Ludvig stand up to an abuser like de Schinkel, but Arcel’s protagonist is inherently flawed and complex. When he takes a young girl named Anmai Mus (Melina Hagberg) to live with him and Ann Barbara, the pair form a family until the settlers arrive and want her to be sent away because of the color of her skin.
Ludvig often makes immoral choices because he only thinks about himself and his needs before anyone else. It makes for a very difficult character to attach ourselves to. He’s a textbook “good guy” compared to the caricatured de Schinkel, but he’s not that good of a person either. All he cares about is obtaining the title of Baron. Anything else is futile or a distraction. However, by spending time with Ann Barbara and Anmai Mus, Ludvig eventually becomes more human than he is at the film’s beginning, thus complexifying his arc further for a satisfying, and emotional, third act.
Mikkelsen portrays all of these complexities in a controlled fashion, giving him one of the best turns of his entire career. It takes an actor of great skill to portray such an incredibly rich and layered character. Mikkelsen does it so effortlessly that it almost feels easy for any aspiring actor to step into his shoes. It’s not as easy as it seems, but Mikkelsen is such a skillful actor that he can modulate through different emotional layers quickly, peering into Ludvig Kahlen as the broken, lonely, and sad person he ultimately is. He experiences joy for the first time by spending time with Anmai Mus and Ann Barbara, but when this life is threatened by the title of “Baron,” will he pursue his egocentric dream or live a good life with them?
It’s the heart of The Promised Land’s central question, and Arcel gives an answer that’s as equally complex through its conventional storytelling. It may feel weird to say this, but a clear-cut story allows Arcel to peer deep into the characters’ souls, especially when confronted by brutal violence coming from an oppressor who wants to control everything and everyone. Ludvig won’t let this pass, whether he’s thinking for himself or not. He’ll eventually realize what matters, but it’ll take quite a bit of time for him to get there and hopefully grow as a more caring human in the process.
Arcel gives The Promised Land enough time to develop its characters inside a richly-developed and striking world, filled with evocative images from cinematographer Rasmus Videbæk, that immediately recall Sergio Leone’s tableaux of the Old West with Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon. It’s a film steeped in two traditions, and with Mikkelsen as the anchor of its classic rivalry between morally gray (Kahlen is not entirely “good”) and pure evil. It’s already one of the very best movies of 2024, and one to absolutely see with a crowd, especially for its killer of a climax that may or may not bring the house down. After the disaster that was The Dark Tower, I’m glad Arcel is back in a far more confident — and classic — light, just like his 2012 drama A Royal Affair saw Mikkelsen give one of the best performances of his career.