Tag Archives: Great War

Review: Private Peaceful (film)

Private Peaceful.

This film adaptation of Michael Morpurgo’s novel by the same name may be better critiqued by someone who has read the book and can compare the two. I have not, but having looked up the book and found it to have been classified as being appropriate for ages 8 to 12 (what used to be lumped into the broad classification of “Juvenile Fiction,” but these days could perhaps be shoehorned into “Middle Grade”), I can only surmise that certain liberties may have been taken with the plot to make the story more appealing to an adult audience that expects “adult themes” in its entertainment.

It stretches credulity that a career gamekeeper and forester would have neglected to teach his children never to approach during a shoot, because of the risk of their being mistakenly shot, and the possibility of their scaring away the game; nor to approach him when he was at work felling trees, or failing that, where not to stand when a tree was being felled: a forester of my acquaintance always knew exactly where any tree he chopped down would fall.

The battle scenes leave a little to be desired: the pyrotechnics are not as powerful as in other war films, and the cinematography not as skillful. There is a fine moment of irony in the accusation of “cowardice in the face of the enemy,” when “the enemy” becomes identified with someone not normally described by that term.

The continual jumping back and forth between flashback time periods gets a little wearing on the patience. The accents are sometimes difficult for this North American to decipher. At the end of the movie, a sudden caginess in the dialogue makes the viewer suspect that a plot twist is about to be perpetrated that makes the opening scene in the prison begin to look like a red herring: after the film was over, I replayed the last two segments to make sure that what I thought I’d missed hearing really wasn’t there.

The film does function as an interesting perspective on the primitive nature of the physical and social conditions of life only a hundred years ago, and the hazards appertaining thereto.


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Review: German Atrocities, 1914 (Horne & Kramer)

German Atrocities, 1914: A History of Denial.

This book is enough to give you nightmares.

With a thoroughness reminiscent of Fritz Fischer’s Germany’s Aims in the First World War, the authors of this scholarly work approach the evidence from every possible angle to determine the nature of German army conduct during the first month of the war.

The verdict: Yes, the German army committed atrocities against Belgian and French civilians, although a few of the claims made by traumatized refugees may have been exaggerated. Both the perpetrators and the victims of the atrocities are found to have suffered from different varieties and degrees of delusion, with the franc-tireur myth that motivated the German soldiers to react hysterically and barbarically being the one most deeply entrenched, both in the collective psyche of the German military (men, officers, and the higher command) and German civilians (in government and on the home front).

My personal assessment is that the upper echelons of the German command were more likely to endorse spontaneous harsh action by the lower level of the Imperial army against a perceived levee en masse or “People’s War,” because the last of the wars of German unification under Prussian rule were still a matter of living memory: the new German Empire could be seen as vulnerable to breakup should the other German kingdoms and principalities decide to rise against Prussian hegemony.

Moreover, many individuals among the troops who violated Belgian neutrality and invaded France certainly would have harbored some degree of guilty conscience over the campaign, despite the Emperor’s and the government’s loud and continual insistence that they were waging a “defensive” war. This feeling of guilt would have contributed to their edginess and propensity to overreact to any perceived threat, however spurious, while they were on foreign soil. Rationalization in defense of a guilty conscience knows no bounds.

In addition, some of the mutilations attributed to personally inflicted, malicious injury of civilians may be attributable to a personalized reinterpretation of the maiming sustained by those who were wounded by shrapnel or the flying remnants of high-explosive shells during the bombardment of cities and villages. Unprovoked, undeserved invasion conducted with artillery fire that caused physical harm and mental mayhem on a scale approaching that of a weapon of mass destruction would certainly be taken personally by the afflicted civilians, especially where women and children were concerned.

While most losses of hands or mutilation of breasts could reasonably be blamed on shellfire, the intentional severing of women’s hands by German soldiers could have occasionally occurred, motivated by pillage (the thieving of jewelry), although any such instances probably happened after the victim was already dead. Severing the hands of living children would have served no purpose (not even for intimidation), because the victims would have bled to death within minutes, and could not have been the refugees with bandaged stumps that were reported to have been seen.

The research includes a detailed examination of German obfuscation, counter-charges and cover-ups undertaken during the interwar period, in an effort to get out of paying reparations and accepting war guilt: the tactics of a strategy which eventually achieved temporary success, as postwar pacifism propounded its theories of futility, collective guilt, and appeasement – which ultimately backfired twenty years later. (NB: Although Hitler had repudiated payment of the reparations, payments were resumed sometime after the Second World War, and Germany finally paid off its punitive debt for the First World War in 2010.)

The book is illustrated with period artwork from newspapers, books and magazines. It concludes with appendices of raw data (with an extensive explanatory note), selected sections from the Hague Convention (IV) of 1907 and the Treaty of Versailles, and details from allied demands for extradition. The copious end notes include a table of abbreviations, and are followed by a bibliography and an adequate index, although both of the latter are printed in an extremely small font that requires the use of a magnifying glass.

The detail of the research can make a daunting read, but its psychological slant is thought-provoking and well worth the effort.

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Review: Im Westen nichts Neues [All Quiet on the Western Front] (Remarque)

im-westen-nichts-neues-remarqueall quiet wheenmurdoch

Im Westen nichts Neues [All Quiet on the Western Front].

“Nothing New in the West.” That’s what the title of Remarque’s classic novel really means, and if I ever produce my own translation of the book (after scouring the rust off the German I learned when I lived in Bavaria for a year in the 1970s), that’s what I’m going to call it. The title that the first translator, Wheen, came up with is now enshrined in literary and cinematic history, but Remarque’s title is more accurately descriptive, if for no other reason than because it was not quiet on the Western Front until some time after the Armistice officially began (soldiers were still being killed by enemy fire, because it took a while for the news to get out, and for some military units to accept it).

The title is not the only reason why I’d be tempted to try writing a new translation: In general, the two translations I’ve read (Wheen, center, and Murdoch, right) do not do the original justice, because they obliterate the German voice. Not only are the puns, rhymes and other plays on words that go with the peculiarities of the German language lost entirely, but the characters seem to lose their nationality and become, in effect, just another bunch of “Tommies.”  I understand that it can be difficult to take idiomatic expressions from one language and represent them accurately in another, but there’s no good reason for taking the story and anglicizing it culturally as well as linguistically. Perhaps Wheen’s true agenda was to use it for propaganda; by 1929, the winners of the Great War were heavily into self-doubt and second-guessing their victory, with the result that they neglected to enforce much of the Versailles Treaty. Wheen’s translation certainly helped make possible two sympathetic – if not pro-German – cinematic adaptations of Remarque’s story (see my reviews of the 1930 and 1979 films).

Wheen’s translation immediately starts off on the wrong foot, because he uses Remarque’s epigraph to further his own purposes by grossly distorting it with his own opinion, adding words which do not appear in the original:

This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war. (Wheen rendering: the words in bold red italics are not Remarque’s words.)

Here is what Remarque actually wrote (followed by a translation from Google Translate, in italics):

Dieses Buch soll weder eine Anklage noch ein Bekenntnis sein. Es soll nur den Versuch machen, über eine Generation zu berichten, die vom Kriege zerstört wurd – auch wenn sie seinen Granaten entkam.

This book is neither an indictment nor a confession. It will only make the attempt to report on a generation that was destroyed by the war – even if they escaped his grenades.

Murdoch’s translation of the epigraph is more faithful to the original:

This book is intended neither as an accusation or as a confession, but simply as an attempt to give an account of a generation that was destroyed by the war – even those of it who survived the shelling.

What Wheen did is inexcusable. I understand that there has to be some latitude for interpretation in translation, but there is no place for interpolation. By inserting his own opinion, Wheen attempted to assume the role of co-author, which puts his entire translation in doubt as to its truthfulness.

If you can read German – even if you need the help of a dictionary and grammar – by all means, tackle the original. Otherwise, look for Brian Murdoch’s version. It’s the lesser of two evils.




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