In the pantheon of World War II cinema, Denmark rarely takes centre stage. Yet in 2008, director Ole Christian Madsen delivered an audaciously raw and morally unsettling portrait of the Danish resistance with Flammen og Citronen (Flame & Citron). Based on real figures—Bent Faurschou-Hviid (“Flame”) and Jørgen Haagen Schmith (“Citron”)—this film is less about patriotism and more about paranoia, betrayal, and the impossible ethical lines drawn in occupied Copenhagen.
It is not a war film that seeks comfort. It is one that stares into the grey void between justice and vengeance. It is a brutal, beautiful, and morally complex Danish resistance thriller.
Assassination as Resistance
Set in 1944, during the late stage of the German occupation of Denmark, the film follows two prominent members of the resistance cell Holger Danske. “Flame,” a young, impulsive redhead with nerves of steel, played by Thure Lindhardt, and “Citron,” the older, more world-weary driver and executioner, played with haunting gravity by Mads Mikkelsen, conduct assassinations of Danish collaborators and Gestapo officers under orders from British and Danish intelligence.
As targets become murky and allegiances blur, the duo begins to question their handlers and the true nature of their mission. What begins as clean-cut resistance transforms into a psychological descent into mistrust, loss, and the moral cost of war.
Noir Grit with Nordic Precision
Visually, the film is drenched in war-torn, rain-lashed 1940s Copenhagen. The colour palette is muted: greys, desaturated browns, and flashes of blood red—befitting the film’s noir tone and inner despair.
Madsen’s direction is deliberate, almost theatrical at times. Long takes linger on eyes, hands, the hesitant draw of a pistol. Action is explosive and intimate, not large-scale battles but backroom executions and narrow escapes.
This is resistance warfare stripped of romance. It’s not about heroics, but the psychological weight of killing a man for the “right” reasons.
Mikkelsen & Lindhardt Are Sublime
Mads Mikkelsen, known internationally for his icy control and tragic intensity, is utterly magnetic as Citron. His quiet breakdowns and moments of hesitation give the film its moral core.
Thure Lindhardt’s Flame is youthful, righteous, and increasingly lost in a world that punishes principle. The chemistry between the two leads is less fraternal than existential—they orbit each other like doomed planets, bonded by blood but divided by conscience.
Christian Berkel’s cold Gestapo officer and Stine Stengade as Flame’s mysterious love interest provide subtle, haunting side performances.
Brutally Faithful, Deliberately Messy
The film has a bold engagement with Danish WWII history—particularly its refusal to whitewash the resistance. Unlike postwar myths of unified national resistance, Flammen og Citronen dares to show the infighting, manipulation, and contradictions.
Some facts are condensed or dramatized, but the core events—especially the fate of Citron and the shifting control of Danish intelligence—are largely accurate. The film acknowledges that collaborators weren’t always traitors, and that heroes sometimes broke.
Resistance, Identity, and the Cost of Violence
This film doesn’t ask whether violence was justified—it shows what that violence did to the men who carried it out. It is a case study in asymmetric warfare and moral compromise. It is a masterclass in noir storytelling, period realism, and character tragedy.
The final scenes are harrowing. The characters find no clean exits. Their stories are etched into the murky legacy of Denmark’s occupation—unfinished, unresolved, unforgettable. Flammen og Citronen is among the finest World War II films of the 21st century. Not for its scale, but for its integrity. A film that treats resistance not as a costume, but a crucible. A film that asks not “What would you do?” but “What would it do to you?”
Watch the Movie:
- YouTube: Flame & Citron (2008) Full Film| Flammen and Citronen | WWII | Mads Mickkelson | Thure Lindhard (free, with subtitles)
