by Annette Basile
Worth: $19.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Danica Ćurčić, Espen Smed, Aziz Çapkurt, Claes Ljungmark, Sif Lucca Gersby, Chili Olivia Jensen
Intro:
… a powerful, fascinating film that hits you in the guts.
Turns out the holiday resort is a perfect microcosm to explore psychology and the gap between the haves and have-nots – just look at The White Lotus. But unlike that series, The Last Resort doesn’t dwell in comedy (black or otherwise), yet it does share characters that are shown in several shades of grey (although this Danish-Norwegian co-production’s characters are considerably more likeable).
Mikkel (Espen Smed) and Louise (a sensational Danica Ćurčić) and their two young daughters, are in a luxury Canary Islands resort, where their suite overlooks the ocean. Mikkel is a teacher and Louise is an overworked health bureaucrat, desperate for some R&R. Early into their vacation, driving in the dark after a day at the beach, their car hits an Afghan man, Ahmad (Aziz Çapkurt), injuring his leg.
The concerned couple take him to hospital, put cash in his hands, and give him their number. “We’ll do anything we can to help you,” says Mikkel. Soon after, Ahmad turns up at the resort. The hospital patched him up and threw him onto the street – refugees are despised on the Islands and bad for business – and his leg is a mess of infection. Mikkel finds Paul (Claes Ljungmark), a doctor he met at the resort, to assist. Ahmad is soon on his way back to the refugee camp, but when he returns, seeking money from the couple for his stranded family, the situation becomes complicated …
This film is so thematically rich that it contains a book’s worth of material. It operates on two levels – as a character study and as a portrayal of the refugee crisis. It’s about trust, middle-class guilt, privilege, prejudice and the limits of showing kindness to strangers – and it explores these themes in remarkable depth.
Director/co-writer Maria Sødahl clearly has empathy for refugees but she tells this tale like a fly-on-the-wall. She doesn’t manipulate the audience into feeling sympathy, she simply shows – with stark imagery – the contrast between the privileged and the desperate. A scene where refugees arrive on the beach in an overcrowded inflatable boat is extraordinary.
The characters have a symbolic quality, like a modern-day version of something by Tennessee Williams. The symbolism even extends to a cat that the kids befriend – the cat has a collar but, like the refugees, is homeless.
Sødahl takes as much care with her secondary characters as her main protagonists. Apart from the couple’s daughters, who represent innocence, Paul, the compassionate doctor who likes a tipple, is the only character that embodies pure decency. Meanwhile, the friendly waiter Pedro (Héctor Juezas) is not what he seems, and a couple that Mikkel and Louise meet, represent the casual racism of the hard-hearted (they don’t like cats, either).
Paradis – to use its Danish title – is near flawless. There’s a dash of thriller in this drama, and its third act is edge-of-your-seat stuff. It’s a powerful, fascinating film that hits you in the guts. But it hides its power like an iron fist in a velvet glove. Unmissable.
