Watching All Quiet on the Western Front always
brings to mind a key point in the debate over war films: Do they glorify war by
making battles seem exciting or are they inherently anti-war because they show
the destruction caused by war? On one side of this debate is, allegedly, French
director Francois Truffaut, who said that there was no such thing as an
anti-war movie. On the other side is American director Steven Spielberg, who
said that all war movies are anti-war. Perhaps they’re both correct to a
degree, but it’s tough not to see All Quiet on the Western Front
as a film demonstrating the futility of war and the price it exacts in the
lives of the young, in particular.
Set during World War I, the film begins with a group of
young German men who are incited by their teacher (professor?) to join a new
company that is forming. Conveniently, a troop of soldiers marches by the open
windows of their classroom just as the teacher is pushing them with talk of “protecting
the fatherland”—words that should be chilling to those of us who have the
perspective of history on our side. In an innovative use of technology, several
of the boys are shown imagining themselves as soldiers or heroes or perhaps victims
of war, and the close-ups of each daydreamer is spectacular. The editing in the
film is really first-rate, and it’s a shame that there wasn’t yet an Oscar
category for film editing.
Of course, all the young men (are they truly boys?) join the
military, and their “leader” is Paul Baumer (played by a very youthful Lew
Ayres, later of Dr. Kildare fame). They know their drill sergeant, Himmelstoss
(an unctuous John Wray), but he is no longer the friendly neighborhood mailman.
No, he’s now a brutal and vindictive task master, and he makes their training
painful and exhausting. They talk a lot in the barracks about how much they
resent him, usually while mostly or partially unclothed (a recurring motif that
highlights the healthy bodies of the young actors), and they manage to get
their revenge on the night before they are supposed to go into battle. He’s
prevented them from enjoying a single night of promised leave by making them
march through mud, seemingly his favorite pastime, and forcing them to clear
their uniforms before leaving for the front.
The film doesn’t spare us the brutality of war. It’s only
about twenty minutes into the film before the first of the young men is killed.
It’s a scary moment for these soldiers who probably thought they would never be
the ones being shot or bombed, but the constant gunfire and explosions frighten
them when they first arrive at the battlefield. With such inexperienced soldiers,
you know there’s going to be a rather grizzled veteran, and he’s Corporal
Stanislaus “Kat” Katczinsky, played here with great humor and generosity by
Louis Wolheim. He thinks they’re not ready for battle—he’s right, naturally—but
he befriends Paul and the rest by showing them how to survive.
The film features a lot of battle sequences, and they are
presented with a lot of kinetic energy: soldiers running everywhere, explosions
all around them, people falling into foxholes, others barricading themselves in
trenches only to have the “enemy” jump into those same trenches. One of the
most harrowing sequences occurs when Ayres’ Paul falls into a foxhole only to
be followed by a French soldier, whom he stabs with his knife. However, the wounded
man then takes a long time to die from his injury, and Paul winds up trying to
save him by giving him water. Eventually, he even apologizes to the Frenchman
and asks for forgiveness; he also vows to provide for the dead man’s wife and
daughter. It’s one of the moments that clearly means to suggest that all of
this death—and there’s a lot of death in this film—is really unnecessary.
If you need further evidence that the film’s makers are
attempting to present a case against war, at least a couple of times during the
film, the soldiers themselves discuss the purposes of war. They cannot see what
goal is being served by killing other men. They assume that someone in one
country offended someone in another country, but they aren’t feeling offended
themselves. Since they’re German soldiers, they also ponder what exactly the Kaiser
gets from having the country be at war. They don’t want to kill other people,
and they don’t fathom why someone wants them to kill others and destroy
property. Yes, I realize that there are some comic undertones to a few of the
points they make, but the overall subject is quite serious, and they raise
several valid and intriguing points that are still relevant today.
If you really want another poignant example from the film
that shows the irony of war, consider the case of Franz, one of Paul’s classmates
and fellow soldiers. He’s come to battle with a very expensive pair of leather
boots, an object of envy for most of his classmates who must march is much
cheaper, lower quality boots. He’s injured in battle and has one of his legs
amputated. Paul gives the boots to another young soldier, Mueller, who is
injured not long after he acquires the footwear. A closeup of his legs clad in
the boots is the last image that we have of him.
Late in the film, after Paul recuperates from an injury, he’s
allowed leave to visit his family. His mother and sister greet him with great
joy, but they can’t fully comprehend what he’s endured, and he doesn’t feel comfortable
telling them about the horrors he’s experienced and witnessed. A group of older
men, including his father, debate what should be happening in the war and where
the troops should be engaged in battle, but it’s very clear that they have no
idea what’s really happening. Paul becomes so disillusioned that he returns to
the frontlines earlier than expected. When he meets his company again, none of
his classmates are still alive, and many of the newer soldiers are just teenagers.
Only Tjaden (played with great humor by Slim Summerville) and Kat are still
around… but not for long. That’s not a spoiler alert since the film was
released almost a hundred years ago.
I’d like to point out two technical elements of the film
that really stand out. Even though the dialog was rather, um, quiet or low in
the print that I saw, the sound effects were very effective. Paired with the visual
effects, they really put the audience into the realm of battle. Bombs and
bullets abound in this film, and you get a clear sense of the constant danger
that soldiers face. The other technical achievement worthy of note is the film’s
cinematography, which was nominated for an Academy Award. It’s quite stunning, and
the final sequence of Paul reaching for a butterfly during a fight is just magnificently
shot. I also enjoyed the way that the camera sometimes moves through the
trenches, showing the faces of the soldiers about to shoot at their fellow
humans on the other side. There’s fear and strength and determination and
exhaustion there.
The final image of the film—before a very long fade to black—is
a superimposition of a cemetery filled with rows upon rows of white crosses and
the young men from the beginning of the film as they were when they first
marched off to war. We’ve all seen those cemeteries, and it’s haunting to know
that it seems those soldiers were destined to rest in one of those locations, probably
far from their home countries. If you still haven’t decided whether this is an
anti-war film by that point, you should leave with a very strong, clear sense
after watching that unfold on screen.
The film is based upon the 1929 novel by German veteran Erich
Maria Remarque, and it shares the book’s emphasis on the repeated acts of
trauma experienced by the soldiers. At times, they have no food to eat. We even
get a scene where eighty soldiers show up, but there’s enough food for 150 men
because that’s what the cook expected. However, he doesn’t want to give them
double portions because that goes against the rules. Many veterans have what we
now call post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and you get a very clear
picture of that trauma and stress in this movie. It’s worth noting that Remarque’s
novel and the film adaptation of it are primarily focused upon the German side
of World War I, but it doesn’t take much imagination to see how the other side
was having many of the same experiences. I don’t think it’s problematic to note
that almost everyone suffers during wars, not just one side.
All Quiet on the Western Front was recut several
times for rereleases over the years, so the version/s that we have today might
not be exactly what audiences initially saw in 1930. It’s actually about twenty
minutes shorter than the first version. The director, Lewis Milestone, was the
first person to win two Oscars, having received a directing award two years
earlier for helming the comedy film Two Arabian Knights, which also
starred Wolheim. Another interesting Oscar history note is this was the first film
to be named Best Picture (or “Outstanding Production”) and have its director be
chosen for Best Director, a trend that would be quite common over the years.
Oscar Wins: Outstanding Production and Best Director
(Lewis Milestone)
Other Nominations: Best Writing and Best Cinematography
