Newsletter #68
On the Meaning of War Films and War
Some sober reflections on a serious topic.
I often think of an older man in my church—let’s call him George. About once or twice a year, a conversation arises about having to do with following orders or doing things the right way. At least half of the time, George pauses, his eyes well up with tears, and he makes a vague but recognizable allusion to his time of service in Vietnam. After 8 or 10 seconds, the moment passes. He regains his composure, and we continue to talk.
I think moments like these are supposed to be communicating something to me that I must strive to understand. Had God not directed me away from my plans to join the Marine Corps when I was 17, I wonder if I might be more equipped to understand. Yet I don’t know.
Battle on the Big Screen
I have less time at this stage of life to watch movies. My wife and I find that after about the 90-minute mark in something, our eyes start growing heavy. Still, we manage to find films we’re both sufficiently interested in to occupy us on the occasional evening. However, when she was out of town recently, I decided to take in a genre she’s never been too fond of: war films.
I wouldn’t say it’s a go-to genre for me, but some of the most moving scenes that resonate with me today are films about great battles and/or wars. Following the success of All Quiet on the Western Front at the Academic Awards in March, I decided to take the plunge. (Spoiler alerts throughout.)
“All Quiet” was nominated for numerous Academy Awards, winning four. Once I hear a film has stellar cinematography and a beautiful score, I have a hard time not giving it a chance. I wasn’t disappointed.
“All Quiet” is a story about the Great War, World War I. It’s based on a 1929 novel by the same name. As most readers will recall, Germany enters the war in 1914. Much of the film focuses on Paul Bäumer and his classmates’ experiences in the war. As young men, they quickly enlist to serve the fatherland. As one would expect, they are zealous, enthusiastic, and oh so naïve.
No sooner are they drafted than the realities of the trenches shake them to their core. Much of the film focuses on the horrors they face, especially through the eyes of Paul Bäumer—played by Felix Kammerer. Kammerer is 27-year-old stage actor who had never acted in front of cameras before. You wouldn’t have known it; he turned in an Oscar-worthy performance.
Particulars and Universals
The most obvious quality that makes All Quiet on the Western Front such a unique film is that it tells the story of the war from the German perspective. Seldom are we acquainted with the view of things by an opposing nation. Yet this film forces one to try to see the war through a new set of lenses. The viewer is able to do this surprisingly well just by virtue of it being a foreign language film. Though the film can be viewed with English subtitles on Netflix (I did), it can also be viewed with none, hearing the actors speak German only. I wouldn’t recommend people view it with English dubbed in. It defeats the whole point of the screenplay.
Even as we’re ushered into the tongue, terrain, and tactics of the Germans in WWI, we aren’t disoriented. In fact, such a cinematic approach perhaps orients us more to the realities of war. It’s through the distinct particularity of the German perspective—especially the younger German soldiers—that we see the universals of war: fear, shock, loss, comradery, and most certainly, naivete.
The young men who enlist to serve the fatherland are excited. They’re passionate. They’re ready to fire their weapons. Until they’re not. The sheer brutality of the war sets them back on their heels immediately. Most of the film focuses on how they’re transformed from the time of their enlistment to the Armistice (for those who even survive). We’re meant to see the naivete of young men, carried away by a cause they can barely understand, and a conflict they most certainly can’t understand outside the trenches.
We’re also meant to see the futility of ill-defined causes. This is best exemplified by the postscript at the close of the film:
Shortly after the beginning of the war in October 1914, the Western Front became bogged down in trench warfare. At the end of the war in November 1918, the front line had barely moved. More than three million soldiers died here, only while fighting to gain only a few hundred [meters] of ground. During the First World War, almost 17 million people lost their lives.
Aside from the historical antecedents to the war, the postscript is set before viewers as a sober claim, briefly but powerful stated. What was it all for? A few years and many million lost—and only for the geopolitical scene to be shifted around a bit in anticipation of an even bloodier war 25 years later.
The film also demands we internalize the sharp contrast between the dehumanizing and humanizing moments in warfare. This is exemplified in two ways.
First, the contrast between two characterss efforts couldn’t be starker: the Catholic politician Matthias Erzberger (Daniel Brühl) and General Friedrichs (Devid Striesow). Erzberger seeks to persuade the German authorities that after years of brutal war and millions of deaths, it’s time to concede and negotiate a ceasefire with the French. Despite the humiliation of defeat, the war can’t be ended soon enough, lest more lives be lost senselessly.
On the other hand, General Friedrichs is the main antagonist. From his opulent and seemingly impenetrable perch, he compels the soldiers to press on, even in the very minutes leading up to the ceasefire. While this grizzled solider enjoys warm meals from his quarters, he has no problem justifying orders which will only lead to more bloodshed.
The humility of Erzberger and hubris of Friedrichs is palpable.
The second angle of humanity versus inhumanity comes from lead character, Paul Bäumer. He is mostly an unformed teenager at the start. By the end of the film, he has been transformed into a shell-shocked, scarred, young man. We see him perform heroic feats, moved by both the needs of his fellow soldiers, and in a poignant scene, the plight of an enemy combatant. Yet alongside the heroism we see him manifest his own brutality and barbarism. I don’t want to say much more here, because I think it’s a haunting scene that deserves its own viewing (for those who can stomach it). But clearly, the filmmakers are trying to show us what war does to men, externally and internally.
Viewer Beware
Every Christian needs to be honest about the realities of war, insomuch that we understand them. We also need to be honest about the realities of war films. They’re violent, gory, and portray humanity at its worse. I’m sympathetic to the argument that they also may portray humanity at its best, in terms of the bravery, nobility, sense of self-sacrifice, etc. However, I must responsibly say: all films, these included, much be subject to a great deal of discretion.
As we grow in maturity and discernment, most of us simply cannot and should not watch the kinds of things that we may have when we were young. To this day there are a few famous war films that I won’t allow myself to watch. I’ve read and heard too much.
Nevertheless, some of the best illustrations of the high price of war have been made available to us by the most excellent filmmakers. I appreciate that the makers of All Quiet on the Western Front took their subject, audience, and characters seriously.
Christians of all people, even the bulk of us who accept some kind of Just War Theory, must never lose our sense of the radical call of Jesus to love our enemies, pray for our persecutors, and turn the other cheek. Those commands may not preclude military involvement for all Christians at all times, but they mean something. Moreover, we must never glorify war simply in an attempt to esteem soldiers more highly.
Regardless of what flag hangs in parents’ windows during wartime, serious people reject triumphalism and respect the tragedy that is war.
Follow-Up:
Alan Jacobs has regularly been a source of insight and wisdom through the years. In a recent post, he calls attention to the nebulous definitions of “culture” that many today (and in the past) often operated with. This gels nicely with a major theme/concern from my dissertation.
Currently Reading:
Russell Moore, The Storm-Tossed Family: How the Cross Reshapes the Home.
Quote of the Week:
So what, if anything, should the Church do about the state of Western culture? To deal cogently with that question, we must avoid an error that has confused much of the discussion. The question about “Christ and Culture,” as if Christ were one sort of reality and culture simply another, has generated much admirable thought but is nevertheless a category mistake. For the Church is herself manifestly a culture, and according to the New Testament the Church is the embodiment of Christ. The question then should be about “Christ and Other Cultures.”
Robert W. Jenson, “It’s the Culture.”