Danish – Rating Frames

The Promised Land is a Rare and Satisfying Danish Period Epic

June 22, 2024Darcy Read

Set in the glaringly inhospitable north of Denmark in the 18th century, The Promised Land (2023), is a period drama that could’ve easily slipped into historical mad-libs. But, through a nuanced script by director Nikolaj Arcel and Anders Thomas Jensen based on the 2020 novel by Ida Jesson, we are given an easily digestible and consistently compelling epic through a real focus on character interiority. Mads Mikkelsen, with a weathered face as sprawling and inscrutable as the sparse Danish countryside, captures our attention within every frame of the film that too easily could’ve faded into obscurity without his brilliant performance.

The heath, a term for the impenetrable countryside in northern Denmark is where we find ourselves. A land with murky jurisdiction between the Danish king and local landowners, recently retired army captain Ludwig Kahlen (the formidable Mads Mikkelsen) seeks to gain permission to farm this impossible land and in return, gain land ownership and an estate. A uniquely humble period drama, The Promised Land succeeds in the grounded, universal story of perseverance and cultivation that ties us to our global history.

This is an environment we don’t often see Mikkelsen in, as the lower-born striver amongst the bourgeoisie. He is in a more anxious state than the revered actor is used to, placing his weathered face amongst the terse and difficult countryside cultivating anything that will uproot him into a higher station.

Mads Mikkelsen and Gustav Lindh in *The Promised Land*

A film that reflects its brooding and unsettling environment in its subject matter and style, The Promised Land still finds new pockets of period cruelty in a tense scene at the local magistrate and estate owner Frederick’s (Simon Bennebjerg) ball, highlighted by the capture and horrible torture of a runaway alongside a children’s choir. Up until this point, Frederick is seen as petulant and weak, but in this moment the world Ludwig seeks to establish himself in is realised. Bennebjerg’s performance is a great counter to Mikkelsen’s resolve, matching his severe expressions with those of an adult toddler with too many toys at their disposal.

The Promised Land pairs closely with the modern masterpiece There Will be Blood (2007), albeit with a more classical Western approach to striving protagonists combating the established power structures. While not on the same artistic level as the Paul Thomas Anderson film (few new films are), The Promised Land thrives in its modesty, propelled by its strong ensemble cast highlighted by Mikkelson and Amanda Collin as Ann Barbara, an indentured farmer who fled the cruel Frederick’s reign.

But this is not just a film about farming and potato rustling. This is a rare modern period film that actually explores the role of faith, both in religion and in the monarchical institution that Ludwig wields as a symbol of righteousness amongst chaos. These are complicated, compelling ideas to show in a grounded way, and by focusing on the individual humanity on display over the broader concepts, you see both modern life and history at once, deepening the experience.

The revelation of Ludwig’s trump card in this land and farming war is the lowly and persistent potato is a charming one and well reflects the character’s stern resolve in his ambition, no matter the origin. The Danish winter is harsh with only the slightest glimmer of hope coming through the promise of spring that ties us physically and emotionally to this enduring farming tale of perseverance. The cinematography by Rasmus Videbæk is beautiful in its landscapes and use of natural lighting with a focus on fire while maintaining a groundedness that can too often be lost in these more natural environments.

The casting of Mikkelson is of course integral to the production of the film, but it does alter how the narrative unfolds. As one of the great unflappable performers working today, Mikkelson always appears entirely in control of his situation, with his desire to lift himself into a higher station an inevitability. His age also complicates the story, as the character of Ludwig on the page appears a more youthful character out of the army (there is a line in the opening scene informing us that Ludwig is recently retired that seeks to explain away his age) and eager to establish themselves with money and land, but at his more advanced age, the man Mikkelson portrays appears to be on his final attempt at making a life for himself. Whether intentional or not, this creates a weight of sadness and desperation that becomes the lifeblood of the film.

Through a well realised ensemble headlined by the great Mads Mikkelson, The Promised Land is an honest and compelling period drama set in a unique world that is still close to home. With its grounded farming story and classic Hollywood western narrative of a single, wandering force upsetting the local power structures, we are placed on familiar ground, allowing us to be swept up into this formidable drama.

The Promised Land is in select theatres now.

A Taste of Hunger is a Satisfying Food Drama

October 13, 2022Darcy Read

The best restaurants, no matter where in the world, tell their story through food. A beautiful combination of complimentary flavours and textures, coalescing into one satisfying meal. A Taste of Hunger attempts to weave the story of the relationship of Danish restaurant owners Maggie (Katrine Greis-Rosenthal) and Carsten (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau), through their relationship with food. Resting on a bed of passion and desire, A Taste of Hunger flutters between flashbacks of their relationship fermenting and a present-moment quest to obtain a Michelin star for their restaurant.

The enchanting chemistry between Coster-Waldau and Greis-Rosenthal that begins right from the opening frames allows us to immediately invest in this pairing. Greis-Rosenthal especially is electric in every scene, it is impossible not to get caught up in her charm and passion the same way Carsten does. Unfolding slowly is Carsten’s need for control butting up against Maggie’s free-flowing and spontaneous nature, something that created the spark in their relationship.

The stakes of the present tense narrative are low, even taking into consideration the character’s driven pursuit of a Michelin star. Director Cristoffer Boe attempts to heighten the stakes by adding a clock to the scenes, but it is hard to invest in this aspect of the story. Perhaps it is due to the film’s lack of time spent in the restaurant, but the audience’s engagement is squarely focused on the family dynamic, not on the success of their already successful restaurant.

Katrine Greis-Rosenthal and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau in *A Taste of Hunger*

Outside forces are usually the antagonist in these restaurant dramas, so it was refreshing to spend time in this family, understanding where the original passion came from, while also understanding how that same passion works against them. The passion between Carsten and Maggie sustains the entire course, allowing small moments to flourish, especially scenes with their children August and Chloe, characters that are usually sidelined in these stories but felt integral to the film as a whole.

There is a wonderful patience to the edit, rare for the usual frenetic restaurant drama. This decision prevents the film from being a collection of foodie insert shots, instead allowing the audience’s gaze to fall upon those making and eating the food. The most sensual moments of cooking are scenes when the pair are cooking together, a stark contrast to their restaurant when Maggie is not around. A Taste of Hunger is a drama about a family making food and how it consumes them, with the food itself operating as the object of passion for the characters more than the passion for the filmmakers.

A Taste of Hunger shines in its structural pairing of its flashbacks, contextualising the present tense scenes wonderfully. By attributing cooking components of sweet, fat, salt, sour, and heat, to sequences, director Christoffer Boe guides us through the story while still allowing the audience room to perceive the characters more honestly.

Unfortunately, A Taste of Hunger lacks a depth of flavour in its storytelling that becomes apparent the longer this simple story stretches out. Co-writers Boe and the acclaimed Tobias Lindholm (2012’s The Hunt, 2020’s Another Round) use a few thematic prop crutches in its narrative (the knife, the hot dog, the letter), that work well in isolating sequences, but as a collective story, there is a strained repetition that undermines what originally felt satisfying. A good story and script is dense enough in its thematic ideas to not need them littered in every scene, so when they arrive later down the road, they leave a more satisfying taste on the palette.

All the flavours are here for a dense and rich film, but the ideas never get pushed into truly compelling places. Save for some Giallo lighting choices, the film is very plain, which is not to say it was unsatisfying, but it could’ve been an expansive drama and one of the year’s best.

A Taste of Hunger is in select theatres now.

MIFF ’21: Riders of Justice Subverts the Revenge Thriller for a Truly Unique Experience

August 13, 2021August 18, 2021Darcy Read

When tragedy strikes, our instinct is to seek out how something so monstrous could happen. We try to understand the actions that led to this point, a chain of causality that will answer what, or who, is responsible. This is at the heart of Anders Thomas Jensen’s new film Riders of Justice. Working with frequent collaborators Nikolaj Lie Kaas and the extraordinary Mads Mikkelson, this revenge thriller cleverly deconstructs the genre while weaving Jensen’s penchant for pitch-black humour that we’ve seen in his previous films Men & Chicken and Adam’s Apple.

After his wife is tragically killed, Mikkelson’s still deployed soldier Markus returns home to his daughter Mathilde (Andrea Heick Gadeberg), as they come to terms with their loss. Markus wants to move past the tragedy, seemingly accepting the freak nature of the accident, much to the dismay of his daughter who is in denial, wanting to believe it to be an of act of god. Markus’s mind is quickly changed however, when statistician Otto (Nikolaj Lie Kaas) shows up at his door and tells Markus exactly what he wants to hear; that there is a person responsible for his wife’s death.

In most revenge thrillers, the target of vengeance is almost always a gang leader or secret cabal that messed with the wrong man’s family, like notable revenge films Taken and Death Wish, and on the surface Riders of Justice is no different with the titular biker gang Riders of Justice. What separates this film from the others in the genre however, is the lack of focus given to the characters we should be viewing as villains, the targets of Markus’s vengeance. By focusing solely on Markus and his oddball group of friends, Jensen is telling us these villains are merely surrogates for these men as they deal with their grief, guilt, and loss of control.

Riders of Justice also subverts the revenge genre by focusing heavily on the emotion toll of the central characters actions. A staple of the revenge thriller is to quickly establish why the only action the protagonist can take is to go on a no holds barred, guilt-free rampage through the city, as we revel in the carnage catharsis alongside our hero. What Riders of Justice achieves through grounding the narrative in Markus’ home life, especially his relationship with violence through his life as a soldier, as well as his daughter’s relationship with his violence, is that we have to decide for ourselves whether the feeling we are left with is one of catharsis or sadness at the path taken by our heroes as they tear through the Riders of Justice.

Nikolaj Lie Kaas (left to right), Lars Brygmann, and Mads Mikkelson in *Riders of Justice*

This is a difficult film to categorise and that is evident through the trailers and marketing of the film, which focuses around either the black humour or the Taken-esque plot, but what makes this film truly singular is its pathos and sadness, and how it attempts to balance all these elements while maintaining the humanity at its core.

None of this would be possible without the driving force of Mikkelson who, even in his most restrained moments, is a comet oftentimes at risk of overshadowing the rest of the cast and the film as a whole. Jensen’s crucial writing decision to give all of his dark humour dialogue to the characters surrounding Markus is an important one, as it allows him to simmer under the surface until he is ready to blow, without undercutting his character’s nature by joking at the situation they find themselves in.

It’s impossible not to compare the film to the Oscar-winning film Another Round with its connection to Mikkelson, Danish cinema, and their close releases. Both films are centred around a certain type of middle-aged male pathos and sadness, with unique but similar feelings of estrangement with the world around them. Both films are similar in their use of academic reasoning in an attempt to explain the feelings they are having. In Another Round, the high-school teachers seek to explain the emptiness they feel as being a result of their blood alcohol level not being high enough, while in Riders of Justice, Otto seeks to explain away the guilt he is feeling for this tragedy by proving the sheer impossibility of the events occurring purely through chance.

Mikkelson’s performances in both films are wildly different and truly displays his versatility as an actor and what separates him as one of the best in the business. He is a must-see in any project.

Riders of Justice is streaming on MIFF Play until August 22.