User Reviews

In the early 1930s, there were a long string of anti-war films. After the carnage and senseless loss of WWI, people were now ready to face this and work towards a lasting peace. While Hollywood made several such films (THE EAGLE AND THE HAWK, ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT AND BROKEN LULLABY), other nations also made similar films with similar messages (such as the French film J'ACCUSE or the German WESTFRONT 1918). Sadly, however, WWII would undo all this wonderful sentiment and it was a failed attempt to work past the stupidity of war.

BROKEN LULLABY begins with a very emotional scene where a French soldier (Paul) kills a German in the trenches. Despite doing his duty as a soldier, the man was severely effected by this death and it haunts him. Although he goes to confession after the war, he doesn't feel absolved for the death--even when the priest told him he has not sinned--after all, it was war. In an odd twist, Paul decides to go to Germany to seek absolution from the family of the man he killed! But, before he can explain why he is there, the family assumes he was a friend of their dead son (who'd lived in Paris before the war). Now, he's at a loss--should he tell these sweet people or keep it to himself and work out his absolution on his own?

There's an awful lot to like about this film. In addition to an excellent and literate script, the film has two other things working in its favor--the amazing way the film ended and the deft direction by Ernst Lubitsch. As for the ending, it was very simple but very, very touching--leaving the viewer impressed with its almost lyrical nature. It truly is a work of art. While Lubitsch is well known for his comedies and musicals, here he is just as adept with relationships. Plus, being German by birth, he had an easy time getting in touch with the spirit of a German town.

The only negative, and it's a small one, is that all the actors are clearly Americans. With no trace of German or French accents, it does seem a tad strange. Still, this was a common practice in Hollywood during this era and it didn't seriously detract from the film.

Overall, while not the very best of the anti-war films of the 30s, it is among the best and is significantly different from the rest. It's well worth seeing and you can't help but admire it even 77 years later.

"Broken Lullaby" is an atypical sentimental pacifist picture from director Ernst Lubitsch, better known for light sophisticated romantic comedies that eschew melodrama and moralizing--basically the opposite of this one. Heck, most of his films at this point were bubbly musicals featuring the likes of fourth-wall-breaking Maurice Chevalier. I prefer the light Lubitsch touch, including the two other films he made in 1932, "One Hour with You" and, especially, "Trouble in Paradise," both of which were nominated for Best Picture. While "Broken Lullaby" does have its moments of technical bravado and, I admit, it affected me, the heavy-handed treatment, ultimately, left me feeling betrayed, and the narrative ends up betraying its own speechifying.

The story begins on the first anniversary of Armistice Day, after which a French veteran travels to a German village to confront the survivors of the man he killed in the trenches. Eventually, he confides the truth of the death to the late German's fiancée, but not before inventing the fiction that he was friends with the deceased and of a joyful memory of their last meeting. Of course, he and the fiancée fall in love and, of course, the late German's parents begin to treat him like their own son, despite the father's initial Francophobia. The father gives a big speech against hatred and war to some other old Francophobic men in a tavern, blaming the old for sacrificing the young. But, then, the film concludes with, an albeit obviously different, yet still another sacrifice of the young for the pleasures of the old, as the Frenchman and the fiancée conspire to continue the lie and to adopt him into their home--suggesting the Frenchman, as well as the young woman, will continue to perform penance indefinitely by amusing the old with this fiction. As viewers, with the benefit of the narrative's dramatic irony, I suppose we must ask ourselves whether we're willing to likewise accept the fiction that is the film.

I can't. For all its self-righteous noble intentions, "Broken Lullaby" is too on the nose in its self-contradictory resolution, again resorting to sacrificing the young through sentimentality and theatrics--literally, they play the violin and piano--for the affections of the old spectators. The same sort of devices that shortly brought the world to war again within the decade and the never-ending cycle of violence that continues to this day. The film itself is theatrical, too, full of melodrama, speechifying and overstated acting. There's a bit of dramatic music, as well, but thankfully early talkies tended not to feature constant scores and neither does this one.

Reportedly (Scott Eyman, "Ernst Lubitsch: Laughter in Paradise"), Lubitsch wanted Emil Jannings, a fellow German and frequent star of Lubitsch's silent films, for the part of the father, which ultimately went to Lionel Barrymore. That would've been interesting had Jannings mastered English and not returned to Germany to become a stooge for Nazi propaganda, but it would've required a complete cast overhaul, since none of the principles involved attempt to represent the heritages of the characters they portray. At least, Barrymore knew how to give a speech and always fits the bill as a cranky old coot; he'd just won an Oscar for it, after all, in "A Free Soul" (1931).

There's some impressive filmmaking here, too. The opening montage of the Armistice Day anniversary includes a shot revealing a background parade under the foregrounding of the missing leg of a veteran, and the cannon firing and bell ringing causes another veteran with shell shock to scream. There are also some dolly shots throughout, which help alleviate the otherwise stagy look of the creaky early talkie. Other directorial flourishes, such as the superimposed battle images over the hunched-over Frenchman, head down (apparently, the default position to suggest sadness for actor Phillips Holmes), are far too blunt. The sound of marching feet as Barrymore leaves the tavern after decrying how he cheered his son marching to his death is more effective, though, and, in general, "Broken Lullaby" features some good use of sound effects for an early talkie. Ringing shop bells and a ticking clock also have their moments. Meanwhile, all attempts at humor and lighter touches fall flat against the dreadful subject matter: e.g. the gossiping and eavesdropping women and the business with the French dress. Even when it came to war, Lubitsch was more in his element with a comedic treatment, as evidenced by "To Be or Not to Be" (1942).

One of the most brilliant motion pictures ever made that hardly anyone has ever heard of. It's an absolutely riveting story of post-World War I Germany where a French soldier, feeling painful depressing guilt over having killed a young German soldier desperately wants to atone.

Phillips Holmes, best known for his leading role in the first film version of "An American Tragedy" (in the role Montgomery Clift played in 1951's more well known "A Place in the Sun"), gives a heartfelt performance who shows up in the dead soldier's home town, wanting to put flowers on his grave. The grieving father (Lionel Barrymore) is initially antagonistic to him as a Frenchman, and yet comes to welcome him into his home, introducing him to his son's fiancee (Nancy Carroll).

An emotional film on so many levels, covering guilt and atonement as well as an anti-war sentiment, this is a rare serious drama from the legendary Ernst Lubitsch, best known for art decco romantic musicals and drawing room comedies. Louise Carter is memorable as Barrymore's wife, absolutely taken with Holmes which adds to his guilt.

Lucien Littlefield is the epitome of uppity sleaze as a rich man who tries to bribe Carroll into marriage, and Emma Dunn as the mother of another dead soldier is moving in her scene, being comforted by Carter. Zasu Pitts as the maid is amusing but plays the role without her trademark mannerisms. Barrymore can be a bit theatrical, but for where he uses those techniques, it's brilliant. Once you see this film, you'll never forget it. Up there with "The Fighting Sullivans" for the dramatization of how war impacts the families facing tragedy.

All Quiet on the Western Front (AQOTWF) is one of the greatest anti-war films ever made. Its powerful pacifist message, dramatic realism and unique German perspective make it a one-of-a-kind classic from Hollywood's Golden Age. Its most famous scene involves the fatal confrontation between a young German soldier and a similar French lad who meet by chance in a crater hole near a no man's land cemetery. The German soldier (Paul Baumer played by Lew Ayres) fatally wounds the French soldier (Gerard Duval played by Raymond Griffith). As Gerard slowly dies over the course of a long agonizing night, Paul grows increasingly guilt-ridden, sad and remorseful over what he had done and the events that led up to the tragedy. His sorrow is sincere and almost painful to watch.

What if Paul were given the opportunity to survive the war and visit Gerard's family to help convey to them the full depth of his feelings about what he had done? With the insertion of a couple of minor plot revisions, that could be the narrative presented to us in Broken Lullaby (BL). In BL, Paul's last name is now Renard and he becomes the French soldier who killed the young German soldier (Walter Holderlin played by Tom Douglas). Renard is depicted by Phillips Holmes, a sensitive blond-haired actor now best remembered as the young man who acted the role assumed by Montgomery Clift in A Place in the Sun's predecessor-----An American Tragedy.

BL is a little known film that is largely forgotten today. This is most unfortunate, because BL is important in many ways. It is the only dramatic sound movie made by the great Ernst Lubitsch. BL's success in presenting a touching and beautiful story with considerable eloquence is all the more remarkable when we realize that Lubitsch's fame rests mainly in the genres of comedy and musicals. Lionel Barrymore (who in BL plays the dead German soldier's father) got one of his great screen roles almost by accident. Emil Jannings was originally set for that part, but his failure to master understandable English allowed Barrymore to take it over, and he was excellent. There is no trace here of the mannerisms and excesses that critics believe marred some of Barrymore's later performances. Phillips Holmes was moving and often eloquent in playing the troubled French soldier who seeks forgiveness from the Holderlin family (including Walter's grieving fiance). He never achieved a major screen career and died at the early age of 33 from a mid-air collision during WWII while serving in the Royal Canadian Air Force. Zasu Pitts portrayed the Holderlin household maid, and provides a direct link to AQOTWF. Pitts was signed to play Lew Ayres's mother in the earlier film, and she was seen in that part in the initial version of AQOTWF shown in Europe. However, American audiences were so used to seeing Pitts in fluttery comedic roles that they would not accept her in such a dramatic part. She was quickly replaced by Beryl Mercer, who appears as Paul's mother in the final version of AQOTWF originally released in America.

BL is a deeply felt story that captured the emotions of wartime loss, guilt, hope, forgiveness and redemption. The fact that both Lew Ayres and Phillips Holmes played a character named Paul in AQOTWF and BL respectively may be just coincidence-------but maybe not. That Holmes died so young as a casualty of war may also be a coincidence, but it is remarkable nonetheless. That the spiritual power of AQOTWF continued almost at the same level of intensity in BL is certainly noteworthy. Seek BL out. It is well worth your time.

I've watched at least 150 movies from the early '30's--some of them good, most of them pretty bad--"Broken Lullaby" is the best, most profound movie I've seen from that era. A close second would be another movie involving the French and the Germans called "Comradeship," but "Broken Lullaby" has the edge. While many movies were focusing on high society folks and extramarital affairs, "Broken Lullaby" went for a deeper topic. It was about the Great War, but more specifically, the war's impact on a French soldier and a German family.

Paul Renard (Phillips Holmes) was a French soldier who was greatly affected by the war. He had killed a German soldier named Walter Holderlin (Tom Douglas) as Walter was penning a letter to his fiance. Walter's eyes, as he died, burned a lasting image into Paul's soul that he couldn't shake. He went to church to confess his sin and the priest easily gave him absolution. He was a soldier after all, not a murderer. What the priest gave, Paul wasn't looking for nor was he satisfied with. He wasn't quelled with the knowledge he was absolved. He felt he had to do more or perhaps even suffer for what he'd done. Paul decided to go to Germany and seek out Walter's family and ask their forgiveness.

What a move.

The mere suggestion of such a thing had me bracing for impact. On the one hand, this man is so torn by his involvement in the killing of another man that he was willing to seek forgiveness from the man's parents. It speaks volumes about his character. On the other hand, the potential explosion of emotions that may occur when he does inform them that he killed their son (and fiance) is stressful to think about even as a viewer.

To make matters worse, Walter's family adored him. His father, Dr. Holderlin (Lionel Barrymore), his mother Frau Holderlin (Louise Carter), and his fiance Elsa (Nancy Carroll) had not quite gotten over his death, and Paul was headed straight for that hornets' nest.

When Paul arrived in Germany and came face to face with Dr. Holderlin it was fireworks before he even stated his reason for coming. The mere fact Paul was a Frenchman was enough to boil Dr. Holderlin's blood, so what if he heard that this was the man that killed his son?

I couldn't help but think, "Don't tell him. Don't tell him. Don't tell him."

Paul had already done enough. He was guilt-ridden and penitent which was more than most people would've been. Plus he was a soldier. He and thousands of others were instructed to kill Germans while Walter and thousands of others were instructed to kill French. He didn't have to go that extra step and lay his guilt at the feet of Walter's family.

Still, there he was in the presence of Walter's father, mother, and fiance. They were so excited to meet someone who knew their son and had seen him in his final days that they inferred that Paul must've been a friend. And Paul confirmed their misunderstanding like a decent human being should've.

It was such an untenable situation to be in. Paul had come to tell them the most horrible secret about himself and they met him with open arms (after getting over the initial French bias). How could anyone crush a family's joy at a time like that? Would that have been more noble? I don't think so.

Paul hung around the little German town for days presumably searching for the right time to break the news. The entire time Walter's parents began to love him as did Walter's fiance. In fact, during that time Dr. Holderlin delivered an immensely stirring speech to his German friends (who had also lost sons to the war) when they shunned him because of his association with a Frenchman.

"No one here can tell me the meaning of death or the meaning of hatred," he said. "I've drunk deep of both of them. And so, I tell ya, have the French.

"Who sent that young man out to kill Germans? And who sent my boy... and your boy, and your boy, and your two boys? Who gave them the bullets and gas and bayonets?

"We, the fathers, here and on the other side. We are too old to fight but we're not too old to hate. We're responsible. When thousands of other men's sons were killed we called it victory and celebrated with beer. And when thousands of our sons were killed they called it victory and celebrated with wine. Fathers drink to the death of sons.

"Aaah! My heart isn't with it any longer old men. My heart is with the young-- dead and living. Everywhere. Anywhere."

They were some of the profoundest lines ever delivered on screen and Lionel Barrymore nailed it. His delivery was heartfelt and potent.

Dr. Holderlin had come to love Paul as his own son, yet Paul still had aims to burst everyone's bubble. He was no saint. He wasn't Walter's friend. On the contrary, he was Walter's killer.

Paul mustered up the courage to tell Elsa after she'd professed her love to him. Undoubtedly, it was as painful for him as it was for her, but he felt he had to come clean. He was living a lie.

He was preparing to tell Walter's parents when Elsa interrupted and told them something joyful instead. She told them that Paul was staying in Germany to fill that void in their hearts.

Elsa then pulled Paul to the side and told him to forget about himself and even her because it wasn't about them, it was about the parents. They were finally happy again, finally whole again, and it wouldn't be noble or fair to destroy that with a truth that truly means nothing.

And with that move by Elsa I went from loving this movie to deeply loving this movie. She was mature and wise enough to know what mattered most and she made sure that Paul didn't upset that. The fact that Paul killed Walter was immaterial. It was war. It could've been him or any number of French soldiers, what does it truly matter? War leaves physical and emotional damage everywhere, so why reopen a wound you inadvertently healed?

"Nine million people got slaughtered... and the world calls that sane. Well, then I want to be insane."

~Paul Renard

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