Land of Mine
Director: Martin Zandvliet
Talent: Roland Møller, Louis Hofmann, Joel Basman, Mikkel Boe Følsgaard
Released: 4th August
I am struck by the coincidence that delivers two excellent World War II films to our screens at the very same time. Furthermore, while wholly different in substance, the currency of both films are historical events rarely, if ever, brought to life within the proscenium arch. The first was Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk. The second is Land of Mine.
Martin Zandvliet’s humanist tragedy-cum-redemption story takes place in Denmark, at the close of WWII. German soldiers, now prisoners of war, are forced by their Danish counterparts to remove by hand thousands of landmines, deployed by Nazi Occupation forces, in a region of the country’s west coast. One might think that this task is just deserts – a dangerous job for those whose nation’s avarice and cruelty created the danger in the first place.
Such is the opinion of Sergeant Carl Rasmussen (Roland Møller in a standout role), the officer in charge of the clean-up detail, whose furious breathing is heard while the credits still unfold. Once the image springs to life, we witness him violently haranguing and beating Nazi prisoners as they are marched down a country road. It’s clear that this man bears an almost psychotic hatred for every individual that fought in the defeated army, a hatred that we – present day Europeans – can’t but sympathise with.
And yet the heart-breaking truth is that the majority of these captured soldiers are little more than boys, aged anywhere between 14 and 17 years of age. The beauty of this film, which does not in the least shy away from horror, is that slowly, perhaps too slowly, Rasmussen comes to realise that these boys’ status as children is more significant than their nationality.
Rather than become background to Rasmussen’s luminous performance, every young actor holds their own wonderfully. It’s an honest tour-de-force. See Dunkirk, but savour Land of Mine.
Just be sure to bring some tissues when you do.
Words – Tom Lordan
