By Peg Aloi

Starring Mads Mikkelsen, The Promised Land is an opulent and moving period piece that captures a location and era rarely depicted on the big screen.

The Promised Land, directed by Nikolaj Arcel. Screening at AMC Boston Common 19.

Mads Mikkelsen in a scene from The Promised Land.

Speaking as a long time fan of Danish actor Mads Mikkelsen, I recall the first period film I saw him in, in which he played a minor but memorable character in Antoine Fuqua’s King Arthur (2004). Mikkelsen was Tristan, a skilled but humble archer with a pet falcon. He made the most of his small but quirky scenes, standing out by way of his deft subtlety. I also loved Mikkelsen in the only Dogme ‘95 film he made (as far as I’m aware) which was Susanne Biers’ Open Hearts (2002). Many art house cinema fans will recognize him from any number of excellent roles, though contemporary audiences may be most familiar with his work in NBC’s glossy horror series Hannibal. In 2020’s Another Round, Mikkelsen charmed audiences as a man who, along with several close friends, decides to gradually increase his alcohol intake in order to more deeply experience his life. A thrilling final scene shows us what many might not have been aware of: Mikkelsen did not start his professional career as an actor, but as a dancer. Mikkelsen’s physical grace, a huge part of his appeal as a screen actor, is by turns feral, intense, earthy, and sometimes just a bit dangerous. His latest lead role allows him to inhabit a self-possessed man of few words but impressive deeds.

In The Promised Land, Mikkelsen portrays Ludvig Kahlen, an 18th century Danish war hero who arrives at middle age with very little money and no property of his own. He approaches the court of King Frederik V to request permission and funds to transform a barren Danish heath into productive farmland. He hopes to receive recognition from the king for the service. Ludvig wears his military captain’s uniform, complete with a medal awarded for bravery: his pride is evident in his stern but serene countenance and his expectation that others will respect his service to his country. Standing before a table full of the king’s dignitaries, he is lightly mocked and dismissed for his plan to try and farm on land that most agree is unsuitable for crops.

However, one of the King’s men (played by Danish character actor Søren Malling, seen in The Investigation) is irritated by Ludwig’s confidence and unflappability to the point that he allows him to have the challenge. The aristocrat wants to see Ludwig fail, but for the ex-soldier anything less than success is not an option. Even after Ludwig draws the ire of Frederik de Schinkel, a local landowner and self-appointed judge, who tries to impede Ludvig at every turn, the man carries on with quiet determination. Frederik, played brilliantly by Simon Bennebjerg, relishes his wealth and authority; he divides his time between holding lavish gatherings and humiliating and abusing his many servants and constituents. He mocks Ludvig’s poverty and feels free to use his desperate situation in order to manipulate him.

The narrative sets up a number of intriguing relationships. Ludvig, however, doesn’t appear to be much of a ‘people person.’ He manages to do a fair amount of work on his own, including building a sturdy house on the inhospitable heath. But transforming the wild heath into arable farmland can’t be done without help. He plans to grow a non-native food crop that will do well in the poor soil, and that could ultimately transform agriculture and foodways in Denmark. He tries to enlist local assistance and Anton (Gustav Lindh), a kind-hearted young cleric who befriends Ludvig, sees a way in which he can help a young couple who were Frederik’s servants and escaped had his cruelty:  Ann Barbara (Raised by Wolves’ Amanda Collin) and Johannes (Morton Hee Anderson, of Margrete: Queen of the North). Ludvig agrees to give them food and shelter for labor. Meanwhile, Frederik’s cousin Edel (Kristine Kujath Thorpe of Sick of Myself), who Frederik wants to marry, sets her sights on the penniless but noble Ludvig, causing more enmity between the two men.

Soon a young girl, Anmai Mus, who lives with a band of travelers in the forest, comes by one night to steal food from Ludwig’s fledgling farm. At first Ludwig finds her annoying, punishing her and sending her away. But, after the travelling band leaves her behind because, as a “darkling,” her mixed race ancestry makes the superstitious peasants believe she is a source of bad luck, Ludwig grudgingly gives way and lets her stay. Time passes, and hardship is a regular visitor, including a very real threat of starvation. But even when tragedy strikes, the farm proves a stable homestead. Eventually, Ludwig contents himself with his work and what has become a harmonious family situation. His farming efforts begin to bear fruit but, even as Ludvig becomes a sort of local hero, Frederik refuses to leave him in peace — hostilities escalate. It’s hard to say which is more distressing to watch: the callous brutality of the landed gentry towards the serfs or the latter’s determined vengeance when they have little left to lose.

Directed by Nikolaj Arcel (who helmed 2012’s A Royal Affair, which also starred Mikkelsen), The Promised Land is an opulent and moving period piece that captures a location and era rarely depicted on the big screen. The score and cinematography work in skillful tandem to imbue this story with a complex vision of humanity: those framed as heroes not always behaving in admirable ways. The film tries, perhaps a bit too hard, to neatly interweave acts of perverse brutality, themes of loyalty and perseverance, and scenes of idyllic romance. Still, The Promised Land creates a satisfyingly dramatic palette that draws on suspense and emotion. Mikkelsen could hardly be better in the role of the tenacious Ludvig, a man whose stony demeanor eventually cracks to reveal surprising depths of tenderness.

Peg Aloi is a former film critic for the Boston Phoenix and member of the Boston Society of Film Critics, the Critics Choice Awards, and the Alliance for Women Film Journalists. She taught film studies in Boston for over a decade. She writes on film, TV, and culture for web publications like Time, Vice, Polygon, Bustle, Mic, Orlando Weekly, and Bloody Disgusting. Her blog “The Witching Hour” can be found on substack.