All Quiet on the Western Front
1930
Release date: 4/21/1930 (L.A. Premiere)
152 Minutes (There are many cuts of this film which offer a variety of running times. Universal's Blu-ray restored edition runs 133 minutes and this is the version I was able to procure)
Director: Lewis Milestone
Adaptation: Maxwell Anderson, Del Andrews
Screenplay: George Abbott
From a Novel by: Erich Maria Remarque
Producer: Carl Laemmle, Jr.
Cinematographer: Arthur Edeson, Karl Freund (Uncredited)
Two Aspect Ratios are credited: 1.20:1 for the sound version and 1.33:1 for the silent version; the Universal restoration I watched was not from the original negative, so the source material they used, a 35 mm print, resulted in a 1.33:1 ratio for this particular sound version
Nomination Year: 1929/1930 - 3rd Academy Awards Ceremony
Won: Best Picture; Best Director - Lewis Milestone
Nominations: Best Writing, Achievement - George Abbott, Maxwell Anderson, Del Andrews; Best Cinematography - Arthur Edeson
Writer's note: In this series I will watch a Best Picture-winning film each week and go a little deeper than my usual reviews. I hope you enjoy my thoughts and perspective. I will, of course, attempt to be sensitive to spoilers for newer films but for these early films I will be writing without regard to spoilers so be forewarned. I suggest you see the films I am discussing before reading.
The novel All Quiet on the Western Front was first published in Germany in 1929. Its original title, "Im Westen nichts Neues" translates to English as "Nothing New in the West," but when translated by Arthur Wesley Wheen he coined the new title, "All Quiet on the Western Front" which admittedly has much more punch and attraction for an English-speaking audience.
It seems that Carl Laemmle, Jr. looked to all sorts of literature for inspiration as a producer. A number of his credits - most famous among them Frankenstein and Dracula - come from literary source material. Film has a long history of drawing from literature; one of Melies' early works (and one of the earliest known silent films), A Trip to the Moon, in addition to being one of the first movies to employ special effects and unique editing, was influenced by Jules Verne. Indeed, a number of early silent films were based on literary works ranging from Shakespeare to Gaston Leroux (Phantom of the Opera), as well as another early adaptation of Bram Stoker's ubiquitous novel (Murnau's Nosferatu).
Adapting novels to films has become such a common practice in Hollywood that eventually, writing awards were devised to distinguish between original scripts and those based on previous material.
When writing a novel, the first line is of utmost importance. It establishes the tone of the piece and gives the reader a taste of not just the writing style to come, but also serves as a sort of thesis statement. In some cases the opening line of a novel can become iconic, such as Stephen King's starter for the first entry in The Dark Tower series, The Gunslinger: "The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed." Just reading that line makes the hair on the back of one's neck stand on end and prepares the reader for the epic journey that awaits.
As with novels, the opening shot of a film is exceedingly important, and All Quiet on the Western Front firmly embraces that notion. After the credits, a card appears with a quote from the book: "This story is neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it." This is not the first line of the novel but serves as a perfect thesis statement for the movie to come. When this card fades out, the scene proper begins, focusing on two workers who discuss the progress of the war. As one of them opens the door, not only does this open up the world of the movie - with a depth of field capturing a German lane with a formation of freshly minted soldiers marching off to the front lines - but it also gives the viewer a look at the levels of hierarchy in German society, all achieved within a single shot. The common man, as signified by these two workers, is misinformed about the reality of war (and remains happily ignorant throughout).
The parade progresses down the street, passing a school. The fanfare that accompanies the German soldiers on the march drowns out a teacher giving his lesson. This is symbolic of the way that populism and zeitgeist overshadow the voice of reason, and signifies early on (quoted text notwithstanding) that this will not be a patriotic, pro-war piece of propaganda.
In a brilliant turn, as the scene progresses, the same teacher who was just overplayed by the parade's music can be heard once he turns his lecture away from the lesson at hand and begins an impassioned speech urging the boys under his tutelage to join the army in order to save the Fatherland. Part of what makes this scene so brilliant and effective is the fact that it performs several functions at once. The same character, the professor, is used to make two different points - one warning against populist ideas drowning out the voice of reason, the other warning against patriotism without critical thinking. The facts, the important part of the lesson are drowned out by the parade, while the pitch to war is heard clearly.
As the teacher orates, each of the characters have their own fantasies of what they think will happen once they enlist. The scene ends with a crescendo of patriotic fervor as the boys throw their books and homework up in the air and march out the door to enlist. The scene ends with a restatement of the warning at its beginning, as books, the harbinger of fact and reason, are tossed aside and trampled.
As a historical side note, this moment offers a prescient chilling precursor to what will happen under the Nazi reich, as offensive books were banned, burned and trampled by Hitler's goons.
As the main characters enter their Basic Training course, it immediately becomes apparent that this film will take the same tact that would eventually be employed in Kubrick's Paths of Glory. Instead of trying to affect German accents, the actors are given to using colloquial American dialects ranging from Bronx/New York to Midwestern flavor. This decision is essential to draw the audience in and connect with the characters. It pushes past "the other" aspect and gives the audience freedom and permission to empathize with the boys as the journey commences.
For every war movie that charts the course of a new recruit from Basic Training onward, All Quiet on the Western Front set the template. Not only does it give us the structure for many war films to follow, it also gives us the archetype of the hard-ass drill sergeant. Without Himelstoss, a glory-seeking postmaster upjumped to a leadership role, we have no Sergeant Hartman. Without the vignette approach this movie takes, we would have no M*A*S*H (the Altman version, not Alda).
As a matter of fact, given the overall futility of trench warfare during World War I, I nearly lost track of which war this portrayed and several times I felt as though I were viewing a Vietnam story.
Granted, a previous Best Picture winner, Wings, is also a war drama that tracks from the pilot's training to mastery of his craft, the construction of elements in that film is much looser and less formal. Where Wings is built upon a structure that presents the training segment out of need for the plot to work, this movie builds the plot and story around the character of Paul and his experiences of horror and psychological terror. Wings primarily focuses on the spectacle of the action sequences. While the characters do learn stunning realities of war, the end of the film finds them happily reunited with their love interests and returned home with a bright future ahead. All Quiet... reflects instead a much grittier reality wherein the front lines that the new recruits encounter are not the fields of valor and glory that were promised.
Another clear contrast between the first Best Picture winner and this is that, while Wings does an excellent job of showing how the central characters are shaped by the horrors of war, the tone of the piece is stoutly patriotic. This film, just two years later, presents a clear anti-war statement, warning against ultra-nationalism and pride in one's country just for having had the trick of luck to be born in one particular geographic location over another. Every country thinks they are the best, none really are. Life is not a race to be won, it is an endeavor in which we should all help and aid our fellow man.
As I watched this magnificent work unfold, I was struck by the technical achievement and advancements, particularly in sound recording and editing. My, what a difference a year can make! All Quiet on the Western Front features a number of impressive battlefield recreations. One memorable sequence involves a night raid where the only source of light is flairs. The stark, staccato sound of gunfire increase the tension and terror.
Another scene played in a dugout section of the trenches, punctuated by repeated bomb blasts as artillery bombardment is lobbed at them non-stop, features what could be one of the first uses of a gimbled set on-screen. In it, the characters vacillate between exhibiting manic behavior due to the lack of sleep, and engaging in gallows humor. It's either joke about it or go insane. In this scene, some men do both.
A parade of horrors abound from that point on, moving from one vignette to the next as our characters delve deeper and deeper into the madness of war. Even in scenes that take place away from the front, such as Paul's visit home on leave where his parents and the professor who spurred him on to enlisting in the first place espouse a genuine and almost giddy ignorance of the realities of the battlefront, the horrors of war are front and center.
During a visit to a war hospital, when comforting a friend who has suffered a leg amputation, Paul and others attempt to encourage this survivor by pointing out that he should be thankful he has "only" lost a leg. Then a character heartlessly asks for the wounded soldier's boots. This is the cost of war, where boys who were once selfless and kind-hearted turn to cold, embittered men who ignore a friend's suffering and loss of limbs, complaining about their blisters and asking them to donate their boots to the cause.
A particularly effective montage follows these boots as they pass from one fallen soldier to another. On the battlefield, a broken-in pair of boots are of greater import than a rifle, or even the life of a fellow soldier.
You don't watch All Quiet on the Western Front, you experience it. You are in the trenches with those men, and part of what makes it so visceral and gut-churning is that the audience is offered no escape or release from the terrors at hand. During combat sequences, we see limbs blown off soldiers and realism this raw would not be seen again until Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan. I generally dislike war movies. Often, they are uncomfortably suffused with patriotic, nationalistic, or otherwise propagandized themes. All Quiet... is none of that. It has a level of realism where many other war films opt for a surrealistic approach, and the final moments - where the main character Paul is ironically shot down while reaching out to touch the beauty of a butterfly - can be called heavy-handed. But ultimately it is moments like that one which make this one of the most harrowing and enduring war movies I have ever seen. Truly, deserving of the title of Best Picture winner.
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