Remordimiento

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.

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.

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.

Sandwiched as it is between his more usual fair (i.e. saucy operetta), Lubitsch's "Broken Lullaby" has not only been eclipsed, it has been forgotten. This is a crime.

While the subject matter is entirely serious, there are several "Lubitsch touches" that reveal the scope of the message behind "Broken Lullaby," particularly the sequence wherein the wives of the town open their windows to call to the neighbors, passing along a chain of gossip that follows the hero and heroine on their way home. Another brilliant community sequence involves the town elders gathered together to drink beer and pass judgment, which stops cold once Barrymore (who has made the Ftrench soldier a sort of surrogate son) joins them.

The plot of "Broken Lullaby" is doubly suspenseful: for the first half of the film, you wonder how Paul will reveal his secret to the Holderlin family; when he opts to follow a non-confrontational line of masquerade, the new suspense sets in as you wonder when he'll tell them the truth (or will they find out on their own?).

Phillips Holmes is strikingly handsome, and while his performance may seem too old school for modern eyes, he is completely honest as the soldier who is near-to-bursting with guilt (although remorse is a better way to put it). Lionel Barrymore should have received his Oscar nod for this film, and his speech to his peers at the inn is delivered with all the fire of a later Capra idealist. Only Nancy Carroll (so good in the same year's "Hot Saturday) seems out of place as Elsa: she is too American for this tale.

Brilliant details such as a glimpse of a military parade as seen from behind a soldier who has lost one leg, Barrymore adjusting the clock in his dead son's immaculately kept room (shrine?), and the many battle montages overlapping the opening church service culminate in the most understated, moving, and beautiful final moments of any film, one in which dialog is jettisoned in favor of two instruments joining to play one gorgeous song.

"Broken Lullaby" deserves restoration and a release on DVD immediately, not only for Lubitsch fans interested in seeing another side of the master's art, but also for those who embrace the ethos of acceptance and love.

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.