The Promised Land Review

Taking the Hollywood money and running for the safety of period features, Mads Mikkelsen has it all worked out. The Promised Land is a sporting chance for the former James Bond villain to spread his wings and massage the Carlsberg advertisement money. Return of the Goat II: New World Order did so too. He is back to his roots with The Promised Land, a return to form following an irresponsible glut of big-budget movies with Tom Holland trivialities peppered in. Pairing with the director of The Dark Tower is always a risk but Mikkelsen has made a career out of bold moves and ambitious attempts at reviving what viewers may come to love. The Promised Land is just that, a charted course deep into the heart of rivalries burning with intensity and pride. 

What a grand undoing it soon becomes. The Promised Land has a sharp back-and-forth between Simon Bennebjerg and Mikkelsen. The at-odds pair are brought in on a backdrop of post-service survival and a life held at ransom for the commitments to parts of life where bravery and camaraderie are moved along without the respect expected. There is a semblance of risk and reward within The Promised Land, the silent grace and determination presented as folly and dreamlike gives courage in all the right spots. Ludvig Kahlen (Mikkelsen) is mocked and berated for his idealistic approach to an area deemed barren. All decisions are self-preservation oriented and Mikkelsen brings this to life with a stern lead performance in an against-the-odds portrayal.  

Altercations and bloodied disputes hold more meaning than they do on the surface thanks to crucial direction from Nikolaj Arcel. His sprawling landscapes and sense of disconnect between events which in many lives would redefine them is filled with a naturalistic tragedy – one which feels as open and intimate as the suffering found in Terrence Malik’s A Hidden Life. Religious underscores made up well with Anton (Gustav Lindh) pawning off two stowaways. Plenty within could be the spark of extreme fury and The Promised Land does a grand job of keeping those whirring fears and violent exploits at bay, never quite sure on which it will mark as the first domino to fall. It is this tremendous effort which keeps it fresh and filled with a consistent, whirring animosity.  

At its best, The Promised Land shows the struggle and expectations of the underdog. Stern and relentless in his aim to build on land blasted as nothing but rot, the experience Mikkelsen carves out alongside the likes of Amanda Collin, who does well to try and unwind the stresses of being put against the odds. Within The Promised Land is a constant yearning for peace and despite the desire, it is put off, time and time again, by the one-upmanship present between a proud military man and an entitled, worried slice of reality who did not think they would be sharing the wealth with a man they stand opposed to. Breaking points are matched and torn through in this thrilling bit of period wonder, the luxury of the landscape and the hellish march through it creates a disparity and brutalism which feels rather normalised for the period but still shocks the system when put out there.