Tells the story of a young German soldier on the Western front during World War I.
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Really good WW1 movie seeing things from a different side was welcome. Had the usual war movie story lines with twists running through to the end. Definitely recommend.
From just the first five minutes All Quiet On The Western Front gives you the idea on what World War I was about. Men climbing over trenches to their almost certain death, with bullets flying past and the inevitable hand to hand combat. We're then shown the aftermath, with bodies upon bodies being removed.
There's simply not let up as new recruits head to the Western front to play their part, with explosions ongoing in the dust and dirt of the trenches that soldiers before them have dug.
It's highly cinematic, and for one would have preferred to see All Quiet On The Western Front on the bigger screens despite it's running time of almost two and a half hours.
There are switches to bureaucratic scenes, as well as lighter moments for the soldiers so it's not entirely shot in the War zone. The Allied tank scene is something to behold, and fans of War films now have a good one from the German's side of things to add to their collection.
The ending is a culmination of failed negotiations leading more soldiers to go over the top and some of the worst combat scenes.
Given the time of year approaching I thought I'd add a poem on the end of this from a soldier who died during World War I - Wilfred Owen, at only the age of 25. It's called "Anthem For Doomed Youth".
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
— Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
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