Land of Mine
A tense, emotional if somewhat predictable Danish war drama with a unique and compelling hook.
Overview
With the horrors of war never far from cinema screens, audiences could be forgiven for thinking they've seen every combat tale there is to tell. Thankfully, while that might feel true when it comes to the emotional journey at the heart of Land of Mine, the film's real-life details evoke plenty of intrigue. Come for the usual mix of cruelty, camaraderie and emotional revelations. Stay for something you probably haven't come across before: a literally explosive story of post-World War II efforts to clear landmines from Denmark's coast.
Indeed, when the global conflict came to an end in 1945, life didn't just go back to normal. Not in a country recovering from Nazi occupation, with a landscape still peppered with more than 1.5 million buried bombs. Under the supervision of Danish Sergeant Carl Rasmussen (Roland Møller), it's left to a group of German POWs to rifle through the sand. Most are little more than teenagers — including twin brothers Ernst and Werner (Emil and Oskar Belton), as well as the gang's self-appointed leader Sebastian (Louis Hofmann). But the fiery Rasmussen shows them little sympathy, despite their difficult and dangerous task.
It's not hard to guess that Rasmussen will eventually warm to his charges. However, even when Land of Mine charts a predictable path, it remains gripping from start to finish. If there's one thing that the best foreign-language Oscar-nominated film perfects, it's the tension and suspense surrounding the scouring, searching and defusing of the deadly explosives at the centre of its story. Every time a character handles a mine, the fear that they're feeling oozes from the screen. And when tragedy occurs, as you know it inevitably will, it's delivered with quiet devastation.
Along with the underlying historical reality, part of the reason that the film's atmosphere of unease hits home so strongly is just how picturesque everything appears. Even when they're littered with weapons capable of killing thousands, beaches tend to catch the eye, a fact that sets up many of the movie's thematic contrasts. Something that appears beautiful soon proves otherwise, just as people who act one way can harbour hidden depths. It's not Land of Mine's most subtle comparison, but courtesy of Camilla Hjelm's lingering cinematography, it works.
Directing only his third feature film, writer-director Martin Zandvliet also wins big with his cast. If the quietly ominous terrain that fills the film's frames stresses the impact of war, then the growing creases on the actors' faces help convey the personal costs. It's Møller who has the trickiest role and provides Land of Mine's standout performance as a result. It's one thing to predict ahead of time what's going to happen with his character. It's quite another to believe it when it happens. Thanks first and foremost to his phenomenal work, you'll find yourself captivated by everything Land of Mine has to offer.