Liberation review – moral dilemma of uneasy last days of Nazi occupation in Denmark | Film

At the end of the second world war, around 250,000 German refugees were left stranded in Denmark. What responsibility, if any, did Danes have, after five years of brutal Nazi occupation, to look after them? That’s the question at the heart of this intelligent drama-thriller from Anders Walter. It’s a film that’s as morally complex as it gets, with some nailbiting moments; I watched a couple of scenes through my hands. What’s really interesting is that it doesn’t strike a triumphant note anywhere; no scene of flag-waving crowds cheering as the defeated Germans sling their hook.

It’s April 1945, a month before the end of the German occupation, and Jacob (Pilou Asbæk) is the headteacher of a boys’ boarding school. Like all the film’s characters he’s a bit sketchily drawn: a respected member of the tight-knit community, a family man, decent guy, but there’s not quite enough to make him feel real. At this point, Germany is on the brink of defeat, but are still in control of the country, so Jacob doesn’t have a choice when he’s ordered to take in 500 German refugees fleeing Soviet invasion: mostly women, children and elderly. The local Nazi commander promises food and medicine that never materialise. Naturally, anti-German feeling in the town runs high. Anyone caught helping the refugees is labelled a collaborator. Jacob agrees to take them in, but then the Germans in his school start dying – children first – in a diphtheria outbreak.

Nothing about the film is easy on the conscience. A German mother begs for a Danish doctor to treat her sick baby, but the town’s doctor was executed by the SS a couple of weeks previously. Walter’s script, co-written with Miriam Nørgaard, often switches to the perspective of Jacob’s son Søren (Lasse Peter Larsen), who starts the film hero worshipping but is filled with rage and defiance after Jacob is branded a traitor in the town. I’d be interested to know how the film went down in Denmark.

At the end of the second world war, around 250,000 German refugees were left stranded in Denmark. What responsibility, if any, did Danes have, after five years of brutal Nazi occupation, to look after them? That’s the question at the heart of this intelligent drama-thriller from Anders Walter. It’s a film that’s as morally complex as it gets, with some nailbiting moments; I watched a couple of scenes through my hands. What’s really interesting is that it doesn’t strike a triumphant note anywhere; no scene of flag-waving crowds cheering as the defeated Germans sling their hook.

It’s April 1945, a month before the end of the German occupation, and Jacob (Pilou Asbæk) is the headteacher of a boys’ boarding school. Like all the film’s characters he’s a bit sketchily drawn: a respected member of the tight-knit community, a family man, decent guy, but there’s not quite enough to make him feel real. At this point, Germany is on the brink of defeat, but are still in control of the country, so Jacob doesn’t have a choice when he’s ordered to take in 500 German refugees fleeing Soviet invasion: mostly women, children and elderly. The local Nazi commander promises food and medicine that never materialise. Naturally, anti-German feeling in the town runs high. Anyone caught helping the refugees is labelled a collaborator. Jacob agrees to take them in, but then the Germans in his school start dying – children first – in a diphtheria outbreak.

Nothing about the film is easy on the conscience. A German mother begs for a Danish doctor to treat her sick baby, but the town’s doctor was executed by the SS a couple of weeks previously. Walter’s script, co-written with Miriam Nørgaard, often switches to the perspective of Jacob’s son Søren (Lasse Peter Larsen), who starts the film hero worshipping but is filled with rage and defiance after Jacob is branded a traitor in the town. I’d be interested to know how the film went down in Denmark.