José Díaz Hernández

It’s a long tradition in filmmaking to take liberties with an adaptation and this movie is no exception. While the original 1930 film sticks much closer to the original story, it pales in comparison to the 2022 version in driving home Remarque’s message. War sucks. All around. It destroys lives and landscapes to prop up the fragile egos and careers of the powerful. It grinds innocent victims whipped up into frenzied enthusiasm into savagery unleashed on an industrial scale. War is randomized violence. All the training and experience in the world will save no one from dying in ways unimaginable and indescribable. War is disfiguring. No one returning from combat can expect to be the same person that marched off with hopes of reaching Paris in two weeks. War is an assault on the senses. Needless to say, the sights and smells of a World War I battlefield are equal parts moonscape and abattoir. But a flare floating down from the sky in the wee hours of guard duty along the trench line can be beautiful. A lazy afternoon peeling potatoes with one’s buddies is a balm. Pondering these lessons as a war veteran intensifies the experience of watching the film in ways my 14-year old self reading this book for the first time could not possibly comprehend.