17 Sep TIFF REVIEW – ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ is a visceral and harrowing masterpiece
It’s been more than 90 years since Lewis Milestone’s film adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque’s iconic novel All Quiet on the Western Front. It still stands as one of the best war movies ever made and among the most deserving Best Picture winners of all time. The film’s anti-war sentiment was so powerful, it was denounced by Adolf Hitler and ultimately outlawed in Germany. It was a landmark moment in the early days of cinema that has stood the test of time.
As brilliant as Milestone’s work may be, it’s always been rather odd that a film portraying German soldiers’ experiences in the First World War was crafted by Americans and presented in English. It lacks the authenticity to give the film a true sense of realism. That problem has finally been solved with the first German adaptation of Remarque’s tale arriving at a time when nationalism and patriotism are again causing division, deception, and potential disaster.
A devastating portrait of war from an alternate viewpoint rarely seen on screen, Edward Berger‘s interpretation of All Quiet on the Western Front is a visceral and harrowing masterpiece. Aided by stunning cinematography and bone-rattling sound design, Berger places his audience right in the centre of the horrific true nature of warfare. It’s necessarily bleak and unsettling, but therein lies the immense power of this compelling and pertinent condemnation of the senseless reality of brutal combat.
Set in 1917 during the final period of World War I, the film centres on Paul Bäumer (a phenomenal Felix Kammerer), a young German teenager who lies about his age to willingly enlist in the Imperial German Army alongside his school friends. Filled with romanticised notions of war and manipulated by political propaganda, these young men have no idea what they’re really in for.
Their misguided naivety is immediately shattered when they’re plonked straight into the trenches along the Western Front and suddenly face imminent death from a relentless barrage of machinegun fire and bombs. As dozens of men drop dead around Paul, he somehow survives and soon forms a connection with veteran soldier Katczinsky (Albrecht Schuch), whose wisdom might just keep him alive long enough to see the looming end of the war.
Meanwhile, German writer Matthias Erzberger (the ever-reliable Daniel Brühl) has been chosen as the authorised representative of the Reich government to negotiate a peaceful armistice with the Allied Powers on a stationary train near the Forest of Compiègne. While Erzberger knows concession is imminent, he’s stifled by the stubborn pride of the leading generals who would seemingly rather sacrifice thousands more German lives than suffer the indignation of a full surrender at the hands of the French. As an exacerbated Erzberger attempts to find a resolution, Paul and the rest of the German regiment are left to suffer while the elite squabble over their fate.
We’ve seen countless World War I and II films presented from the perspective of the heroic Allied Forces, which is what instantly makes something like All Quiet on the Western Front feel decidedly revolutionary. The stories of the innocent young German soldiers are just as valid, even if their leaders were ultimately the villains of this futile war. They were the exploited pawns in a game they were doomed to lose, particularly those who foolishly enlisted in the death knells of a crippled campaign that was already on its knees.
Co-written by Berger with Lesley Paterson and Ian Stokell, the screenplay seeks to elicit empathy from an audience that likely already has preconceived notions of German men during this dark period of history. By highlighting the lies and brainwashing that lead to Paul and his cohorts giddily signing up for war early in the film, Berger instantly allows the viewer to see these young men as the victims they truly were. When Paul is handed his uniform, he questions why it already has someone’s name on it. As an officer quickly rips off the tag of the undoubtedly now-dead previous owner, he lies to Paul that it was simply returned for being “too small.”
It’s a shrewd decision by Berger, Paterson, and Stokell to deviate from the battlefield to the petty squabbling of the privileged German generals. Not only does it give an audience a respite from the horrors, but it also paints an infuriating juxtaposition between those literally sacrificing their lives for a lost cause and the fragile men who’d rather protect their own childish dignity than accept defeat. Brühl shines as the seemingly lone voice of reason amongst an insufferable collective of toxic masculinity, typified by an unimaginable decision by General Friedrich (Devid Striesow) late in the piece.
Berger cunningly highlights the disparity between the two classes with subtle visual techniques that say so much without uttering a single word. The elite enjoy fine dining and the heat of a roaring fire in their plush train carriages while their soldiers dodge bullets and explosions as they wade through mud, blood, and the bodies of their fallen comrades. There’s a stark contrast in the colourisation of these scenes. Battlefield sequences are desaturated with blue tinting while the negotiation scenes are rich with colour and warmth, instantly calling attention to the differing experiences of these two groups.
Much like Sam Mendes’ work with 2019’s 1917 (which now stands as the perfect companion piece to this film), Berger pulls few punches with his horrifying recreation of life on the front lines. It’s a hellish, unrelenting nightmare where chaos and confusion lead to endless bloodshed. The wildly impressive cinematography of James Friend is intimate and tight, creating a voyeuristic experience that’s the closest you’ll get to actually being there. While most will likely view this film at home on Netflix, it’s designed to be seen on the big screen with immersive set pieces you can’t take your eyes off, no matter how much you’ll likely want to.
Complementing Friend’s marvellous visuals is a booming score from Volker Bertelmann dominated by harsh synth chords and loud drumbeats that perfectly emphasise the terrifying reality of what’s transpiring before our eyes. It’s far from a typical film score and will feel like an assault on your ears at times. Frankly, that’s what makes it so utterly ingenious. Throw in elaborate production designs from Christian M. Goldbeck and sharp editing by Sven Budelmann and you have one of the most technically impressive films you’ll see this year.
At the centre of everything is a stunning performance from Kammerer that deserves to be amongst the chatter come awards season. Over the course of the film, Paul’s evolution from an excited teenager to a terrified and disillusioned soldier is heartbreaking to watch. You almost see the light in Kammerer’s eyes die as Paul comprehends the hell he’s willingly walked into. The fact this is his first film role is quite staggering. It typically takes a proficient actor to deftly manage a role that’s both physically and emotionally demanding, but Kammerer handles it with aplomb.
Much like most examples of the war movie genre of recent years, All Quiet on the Western Front is decidedly anti-war. Berger refuses to shy away from the brutal reality facing German soldiers and the infuriating backstory of why they were there in the first place. There’s no happy ending here, particularly knowing how World War I merely laid the groundwork for what was to come a few years later. It’s palpable viewing that will haunt your mind long after the end credits roll. What Berger has crafted is nothing short of masterful. Visually breathtaking and emotionally gripping, this is one of the finest films of the year.
Distributor: Netflix
Cast: Felix Kammerer, Albrecht Schuch, Aaron Hilmer, Moritz Klaus, Edin Hasanovic, Thibault De Montalembert, Daniel Brühl, Devid Striesow
Director: Edward Berger
Producers: Malte Grunert, Daniel Dreifuss, Edward Berger
Screenplay: Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson, Ian Stokell
Cinematography: James Friend
Production Design: Christian M. Goldbeck
Costume Design: Lisy Christl
Music: Volker Bertelmann
Editor: Sven Budelmann
Running Time: 147 minutes
Release Date: 13th October 2022 (Select cinemas), 28th October 2022 (Netflix)