Landmines might sit beneath the surface of the earth, hiding and waiting for footsteps above; however they’re far from a subtle form of combat. When they explode, they do so with a strength that’s impossible to escape — and that makes its impact known. In Land of Mine (Under sandet), the wordplay that inspires the film’s name apes its weaponry of choice: quiet though hardly understated, and still unmistakably powerful all the same. So too does the feature itself, which approaches its real-life tale with a combination of care, force and resonance.
Land of Mine is set in 1945, as the Second World War comes to an end and Denmark faces a significant and sizeable problem. The country’s western coastline may be strewn with golden beaches, but under the sand lurks more than 1.5 million landmines planted by the Nazis during their five years of occupation. Clearing one stretch of the shore falls to Sgt. Carl Rasmussen (Roland Møller, A Second Chance), who already harbours ample angst about the invasion of his nation, and is hardly shy about unleashing his wrath upon the defeated German troops. When he’s assigned a group of prisoners to carry out the task, he initially shows little care for their danger they face, or for the lives they might have to sacrifice.
Of course, Land of Mine‘s moniker doesn’t merely describe the potentially deadly pieces of artillery the gang of young men — including twin brothers Ernst and Werner (debutants Emil and Oskar Belton), and ostensible leader Sebastian (Louis Hofmann, Sanctuary) — must handle as they reluctantly crawl, scour, and dig under the dunes in a place better known for its relaxing rather than its threatening tendencies. It can also be taken as an expression of nationalism, a sentiment that’s clearly driving Rasmussen’s blunt behaviour and frequently becomes a lasting source of contemplation in the aftermath of prolonged battle.
It’s with considerable of caution that writer/director Martin Zandvliet (A Funny Man) endeavours to balance the two interpretations of the feature’s title, as well as the tones of tension and reflection inherent within each. Accordingly, his drama inches forward in tentative increments that ripple with suspense and unravel the humanity of the figures on both sides, as Rasmussen’s superior (Mikkel Boe Følsgaard, The Keeper of Lost Causes) is cast as the piece’s real villain. Alas, while there’s thoughtfulness on display as each scene builds a portrait of the real cost of warfare, there’s also a sense of obviousness as it heads towards its neat climax. It’s the journey rather than the destination that’s affecting — particularly given the immediacy of the detonation sequences, the tenderness that comes with adversaries moving past their differences, and the devastation of the movie’s violent scenario — but the predictable, sentimental nature of the resolution also leaves an imprint.
Thankfully, Zandvliet’s sometimes heavy-handed treatment of his narrative doesn’t manifest in his aesthetic choices, with cinematographer Camilla Hjelm (Danish TV’s The Legacy) providing a fine-tuned blend of urgent, intimate hand-held images and lingering, grey-tinted shots of the picturesque setting. While the film is one of juxtapositions clashing against each other to find common ground, its visual contrasts perhaps prove the strongest and most poignant statement of its underlying message. Similarly, the feature’s cast offer a compelling evocation of the many complex emotions at play, though the movie belongs to Møller. Embodying the approach of Land of Mine itself, there’s both astuteness and authenticity in his handling of the film’s conflicts, and delicacy and weightiness as well.
Rating: 3 ½ stars out of 5
Land of Mine (Under sandet)
Director: Martin Zandvliet
Denmark/Germany, 2015, 100 mins
Scandinavian Film Festival
www.scandinavianfilmfestival.com
Sydney: 5 – 27 July
Melbourne: 6 – 27 July
Canberra: 12 – 27 July
Brisbane: 13 – 27 July
Adelaide: 19 – 27 July
Hobart: 20 – 27 July
Perth: 21 July – 3 August
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