S3E4: All Quiet on the Western Front, 1930

This is a tough one. We cover Lewis Milestone’s All Quiet on the Western Front, released on April 21, 1930. This is an adaptation of the critically acclaimed (and highly controversial) WWI novel. This is our first film that we are intimately familiar with: Sara has seen it dozens of times. That being said, because Sara lost her brother (and, therefore, Dad his son) in the Iraq war, this review will sound a little different. Fair warning: the subject matter and film are very intense, and we do get personal. Other excellent podcasts that cover All Quiet on the Western Front are History in Film, Best Picture Cast and The Best Pictures Podcast. Check them out, too!On the lighter side, we do cover five months of history, with several stop-offs with the births of some of our favorite actors. Books mentioned by Dad:The New Biographical Dictionary of Film by David ThomsonCinema: The First Hundred Years by David ShipmanHistory Goes to the Movies: A Viewer's Guide to the Best (and Some of the Worst) Historical Films Ever Made by Joseph RoquemorePlease leave us a review wherever you are listening!Email us rants as well as raves: [email protected] can also find us on Instagram (and now Twitter/X): @sheacinemaPoem Sara reads: Dulce et Decorum est                     by Wilfred OwenBent double, like old beggars under sacksKnock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumblingFitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd flound’ring like a man in fire or limeDim through the misty panes and thick green light,As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.In all my dreams before my helpless sightHe plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer,Bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.Please leave us a review wherever you are listening!Email us rants as well as raves: [email protected] can also find us on Instagram (and now Twitter/X): @sheacinema