In a German ‘All Quiet on the Western Front,’ History Has a Starring Role

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/28/movies/all-quiet-on-the-western-netflix.html

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“All Quiet on the Western Front,” Erich Maria Remarque’s seminal World War I novel, has had several onscreen adaptations.

The book, which has sold up to 40 million copies since it was released in 1929, tells the story of the German soldier Paul Bäumer and his comrades: high school boys who idealistically enlist only to be forced to adapt to the horrors of trench warfare by abandoning their own humanity.

“All Quiet” first arrived on the big screen in 1930, in a feature directed by Lewis Milestone that won two Oscars and still appears on lists of the best Hollywood movies. A 1979 CBS color version, starring Ernest Borgnine and Richard Thomas, strove for visual authenticity a few years after the end of the Vietnam War.

But Edward Berger, the director of a new, lavish version arriving on Netflix on Friday, said his film included a perspective that helped it capture the antiwar spirit of the original novel better than its predecessors: For the first time, a German-language team is behind the writing, directing and acting.

The impact of the country’s two brutal — and fortunately unsuccessful — world wars on the collective German consciousness informed how Berger approached the project.

“We all grew up with the subject inside of us,” he said. “We inherited it from our great-grandparents.” He added, “It colors everything you have, your opinion, your sense of aesthetics, your taste in music.”

Berger, whose previous work includes “Deutschland 83,” the popular Cold War-era spy series, said he couldn’t pass up the chance to adapt “All Quiet” for the screen in the shadow of recent geopolitical developments in Europe.

The actor Daniel Brühl, who produced and starred in the film, said, “It was really interesting to be able to show the essence, and the essential message, of Remarque’s book, which is an antiwar book, that there is nothing heroic in war.”

The resulting feature, which will be Germany’s submission for next year’s international film Oscar, also arrives as Russia wages a land war in Europe, the most significant armed conflict on the continent in nearly eight decades.

Production began in 2021, a year before Russia marched into Ukraine, but this “All Quiet” echoes some aspects of that ongoing conflict. Bäumer and his fellow soldiers are promised the war will be over in a matter of weeks, just as Russia apparently planned to hold victory celebrations in Kyiv just days after attacking Ukraine. And the film’s young soldiers, preoccupied with their own survival, are seemingly unaware they have invaded another country, just as Moscow has falsely claimed that territories within Ukraine now legally belong to Russia.

Berger said he had felt, in countries like Germany, the United States and Hungary, a distinct change in public discourse in recent years. In the rawer language being used, he saw a new ascension of totalitarian politics — and renewed relevancy for “All Quiet on the Western Front.”

“This film seems timely, somehow, because this kind of language existed also in 1920, where there was this patriotism and blindness — and we know where that can lead,” Berger said, referring to the ascension of the Nazis.

To emphasize the horrors of war and the risks of blind patriotism, Berger’s production departs from the novel that gave the film its name.

At a crucial point in the plot, a quarter of the way into a nearly two-and-a-half-hour run time, the film briefly stops following the humans engaged in one of the bloodiest conflicts of the last century to focus on an inanimate object.

The viewer observes the journey of a dog tag — one of the metal badges worn by soldiers as identification — from the moment it leaves a soldier’s corpse in the trenches of northern France until it is recorded and counted by senior officers in Germany 18 months later.

Not only is it a memorable way to show the toll the conflict took on a generation of young people (about 10 million soldiers were killed in World War I; more than 20 million were wounded), but it also opens onto a wider historical view: The list of deaths is handed to Matthias Erzberger (played by Brühl), the member of the Reich government who signed the armistice to end the war in November 1918.

In moments like this, instead of purely focusing on a small band of fictional soldiers trying to survive, as Remarque does, the film weaves in historical fact, juxtaposing life in the trenches with strategy meetings between higher-ranking players in German command, like the cease-fire negotiations.

“The cuts back and forth between the big politics and the life of the protagonists give us an idea of how the ordinary soldier is at the mercy of these decisions,” said Daniel Schönpflug, a historian whose work focuses on that era.

The film shows how, by the fall of 1918, more than 40,000 Germans were killed on the front every two weeks. We also discover that, even as Erzberger signed the armistice, the German generals running the country’s disastrous military campaign criticized him for ending the slaughter without having “won” anything in return.

In Germany, criticism of the efforts to stop the conflict eventually festered into the “Dolchstoss Legende,” or the stab-in-the-back myth, the false narrative that the war was lost because Jews and social democrats sold out the country.

The film’s final battle scene has military barbarism triumphing over rational thought, and Bäumer’s honed animal instinct wins out over his humanity. In Berger’s more historically minded version of “All Quiet,” this battle is just a preamble to worse things.

“I thought it was important to show that the end of the First World War was used to start a second one, to put that into historical context,” Berger said.

Brühl sees the film’s narratives as also resonating with the political divisions highlighted by the war in Ukraine.

“What I find so shocking is that in this globalized, connected world, when the chips are down, these fronts can form so suddenly and in such an extreme way,” Brühl said.

“It’s a pretty bitter realization,” he added.