Siddharth Sudhakar

The film exists to convey a message. All Quiet on the Western Front speaks on the desperation of war, its brutal nature, and what we fail to see. Not only is it highly unconventional for a World War 1 film, but it seeks to convey one idea: regardless of which side of the conflict you are on, the consequent devastation is inevitable. The film’s opening scene defines the rest: a German soldier, scrambling to resist a French offensive, watches as his comrades fall individually. He is not concerned if every bullet he fires hits a target. He drops all sense of reason, pulls a machete from his utility belt, charges directly through the hail of shots, and plunges it into the heart of an enemy soldier. Throughout the film, tens of hundreds of men fall brutally, shaping the characters’ perspective of death—becoming desensitized almost immediately. Following the opening scene, the film title is revealed, and we are then introduced to the actual plot of the story. Three years into WW1, 17-year-old Paul Bäumer enlists in the German Army alongside his mates Albert, Franz, and Ludwig. Under the guise of glory and heroism, Paul and hundreds of other boys enlist for the war, unknowing of its true nature. They are then provided uniforms taken off the body of previously dead soldiers. In the eyes of the viewer, these are just like children who have been promised a toy, excited about the war, holding almost a picture-perfect view of it. That would change on the first night when French artillery charged German trenches and killed Paul’s friend Ludwig. This highlights one message of the movie: shattering the false ideals of heroism and bravery it is about. Ludwig cries and calls out to his mother in his dying moments, wishing he were back home. We view soldiers of history as brave men and women who charged into conflict, putting their fears behind them for the greater glory of their country. But All Quiet portrays children who were promised glory dying with fear still visible in their young eyes. Rather than glorifying war as the media of today and even the past has, the film highlights its pointlessness. Young men are sent to a battle where they fight for the extended luxury of older men. And soldiers like Paul, who watch their friends die for no purpose, are expected to “move on.”. Unable to comprehend the horror he had just experienced, without tears even to cry, Paul is tasked with collecting every fallen soldier’s dog tag. As he arrives at his friend, he breaks off the dog tag, buttons up Ludwig’s uniform as a friend, and moves on to the next dead body. To experience trauma to the extent where your closest friend’s death brings no tears—that is the emotional brutality of war. More than the bullets and tanks, the repeated loss and inability to comprehend the pain leaves soldiers so torn after the war.