Der Mann, den sein Gewissen trieb

What a pleasant surprise! This touching story of the misery visited upon one man by the First World War leads to memorable statement about who is responsible for war. I will definitely share this video with my friends.

it is easy to define it as pathetic. but it has the virtue to be one of the most convincing anti-war film. not only for the touching speech of the character of Lionel Barrymore front to his friends, for the need of Paul Renard to correct a terrible sin or for the final lullaby, but for the status of message between the two World Wars. this is the detail who gives more value to an exercise to define the need of peace than many others films about the same theme. because the ordinary recipes has fascinating nuances in this case. nuances who gives to it a special beauty. and a profound expression of compassion. the delicacy of feelings , the strong emotions, the preconceptions and the image of the other in dark nuances are covered in a real inspired eulogy of humanity.

This early-sound film appeared fourteen years after the end of the "Great War." Lionel Barrymore, as Dr. Holderlin, the father of Walter, a German soldier killed in that war, provides a stirring metaphorical introspection into the militaristic bravado that inspired so many young Germans to march, and caused so many to die. Dr. Holderlin's comments at his "Stammtisch" (a cafe table reserved for town notables) are, for the time, surprisingly deep and revealing. He confesses he was caught up in the romance and pageantry of flags, trumpets and columns of uniformed young men marching off to meet the enemy. He believes he, together with others who shared those views, was as much responsible for his son's death as the enemy.

But it turns out the enemy, in the form of Paul, the French soldier who killed Barrymore's son, is as remorseful as the good doctor. Paul and Walter knew each other before the War. Paul's guilt that he was the cause of Walter's death drove Paul to Germany in an attempt at closure. There he met Walter's family and Elsa, Walter's sweetheart. Everyone's guilt and grief create in Paul a kind of eerie substitute for Walter. The film ends with Paul playing on the violin a lullaby similar to those Walter had played before the War.

*Broken Lullaby* is an excellent anti-war film, much in the *All Quiet on the Western Front* genre. It is unfortunate that it has not over the years received the critical attention it deserves.

In the sense that this film's post-WW I pacifist yearnings are naive and unsupported by philosophic or practical consideration, this film is dated, there's no denying that. In that sense it's tied to its time in a way that many other films of the early thirties are not. But still, it's a wonderful film! A simple story: A Frenchman is overcome with guilt for killing a single German in battle in WW I. The church gives him no solace, so he decides to seek the forgiveness of the German soldier's family. The family jumps to the conclusion that he was a friend of their son, and he hasn't the courage to tell them the truth.

The performances are straightforward, and Lionel Barrymore is superb, as he nearly always was in his early years. When appropriate, Lubitsch uses all the showy techniques of his personal style. The opening scenes are a bravura series of brilliant visual bits, particularly the tracking shot down the church aisle at an armistice service, showing a belted sword extended from each pew. At other points, too, his special touch is evident, especially with the use of sound. When the German girl strolls with the Frenchman, the scandalous news travels from shop to shop to shop, and their walk is punctuated by the sound of the tingling bells on the shop doors. And the ticking of the clock, which the old man faithfully winds in his dead son's room, is adroitly used in the final scenes. One of the most telling uses of sound is when Barrymore hears the sound of marching feet. He looks toward an archway and the militaristic sound grows louder, but the sequence ends before the soldiers appear in the arch. It's a chilling moment that reminds the audience that Hitler is just off-screen, that perhaps the film's ideas are already out-of-date.

But Lubitsch also shows his greatness by the ABSENCE of obvious Lubitsch technique throughout much of the film. He's aware that his characters are the essence of the film, and for long stretches he lets his players act their story in plain, unbroken two-shots, without cinematic embellishment. It's a film by a master, and it's shameful that the failure of this film prevented Lubitsch from ever undertaking another drama.

Most Definitely holds up and shows the intellectual capability, both Ideally & artistically. I strongly believe it will be better than some movies in 2032.

Lionel Barrymore had a beautiful/responsible speech that should be a household ideal because it definitely challenged me on my stance to the matter.