The Last Resort, from director and co-writer Maria Sødahl, is a good film but also a deeply uncomfortable one. It boasts strong performances, decent dialogue, and makes great use of its Canary Islands location. It also propels the viewers, almost unwillingly, to put themselves in the protagonists’ shoes. What would one do when faced with the same moral dilemmas? How does one react when their long-held values are directly put to the test?

Danish couple Mikkel (Espen Smed) and Louise (Danica Ćurčić) take a much-needed holiday with their daughters Sille and Ella. Their packaged resort trip is supposed to be a chance for rest and relaxation. Instead they find the island swamped with foreign refugees and a hostile population of locals taking matters into their own hands.

While driving a hire car late at night they collide with an Afghan refugee (Aziz Çapkurt), injuring his leg. Mikkel and Louise take him to a hospital, leaving their contact details behind if he wants to press criminal charges or needs further help. Instead he turns up at their hotel the following night, looking for the additional assistance that they offered. As he returns again and again, each time requesting a little more generosity, Mikkel and Louise are forced to confront the extent at which their good intentions will end.

The Last Resort needles at the viewer incessantly. It presents an untenable situation, where too many refugees – some political, some economic – are arriving for local authorities to manage. Some seem legitimate, and some do not. Their presence in such numbers is damaging the islands’ lucrative tourism industry, and losing people their jobs as a result. Some locals are turning to mob violence in response. Mikkel and Louise want to be helpful; they see themselves as generous, good-hearted people. Their patience with the refugee Ahmed is sorely stretched, and before long frustration turns to suspicion and paranoia.

Critically, no one comes out of The Last Resort with their morality unchallenged or their dignity intact. The crisis puts a strain on Mikkel and Louise, causing their relationship to suffer badly. Poor choices are made. Things are said that cannot easily be taken back. Ostensibly pleasant resort staff turn out to be violent reactionaries. Friendly guests are revealed to have an unpleasant racist streak. At the centre of the trouble sits Ahmed, and Sødahl withholds the legitimacy of his claims and his behaviours for a near interminable length. We feel enormous sympathy for him, but like Mikkel and Louise we begin to doubt his claims. We slowly question his behaviours. It is enormously difficult stuff through which to sit. We cannot help but wonder: what would we do in Mikkel’s position? Or Louise’s?

Straight-forward production and direction keeps the focus of the film on its characters and their choices. It is anchored by very strong, highly believable performances, particularly by Aziz Çapkurt as the mysterious Ahmed. At film’s end, however, Europe’s refugee crisis seems as impossible to solve as ever. It is awkward, horrible, deeply difficult stuff.

The Last Resort (Paradis) is screening at the Hurtigruten Nordic Film Festival, playing at Palace Cinema across Australia in July and August. Click here for more information.