Broken Lullaby

Ernst Lubitsch's Broken Lullaby, from 1932, is an obscure anti-war drama from a director more renowned for his sophisticated comedies. The downbeat picture was a box office fiasco and Paramount released it under a variety of titles (The Man I Killed, The Fifth Commandment) in a vain attempt attempt to drum up business. Reviewers of the day were respectful (Robert Sherwood effused in The New York Post "...it is the best talking picture that has been yet seen or heard"), but the trade papers correctly predicted its commercial prospects: Variety noted that the film "doesn't shape as a business getter" and Harrison's Reports warned that the flick "was too morbid for children or Sunday viewing."

The picture was based on Maurice Rostand's novella "L'homme que j'ai tue" which was later adapted into a play which met with success both in France and abroad. Ernest Vajda and Samson Raphaelson collaborated on the screenplay, the latter would go on to pen some of Lubitsch's greatest films. Broken Lullaby was one of a number of film of that time (like The Big Parade, All Quiet on the Western Front, Westfront 1918, Pilgrimage to name just a few) which expressed revulsion at the toll of World War One and championed an international humanism instead of nationalist fervor.

The film focuses on a French veteran, Paul Renard (Phillips Holmes), haunted by his killing of a young German soldier. Renard reads the dead soldier's journal and endeavors to make amends by visiting the man's hometown and final resting place. There, he meets the soldier's kindly parents (Lionel Barrymore and Louise Carter) and comely fiancée, Elsa (Nancy Carroll). Renard claims to be a chum of the dead man from his music conservatory days in Paris. Elsa and Paul are soon smitten. Paul's masquerade becomes untenable, but love emerges triumphant.

Phillips Holmes and Nancy Carroll

The portentous nature of the scenario makes Broken Lullaby heavy going at times. The film is weakest when it is at its most didactic. The transference of guilt is a theme stated too baldly. Worse are the deficiencies of the leads. Carroll was a Broadway star who was signed by Paramount upon the coming of the talkies. Her charisma is submerged here by her character's embalmed gentility. Even worse is Holmes (An American Tragedy, The Criminal Code) in one of the most dreadful performances of the early sound era. Pauline Kael, who dismissed the film as "drab, sentimental hokum", described Holmes in the film as "unspeakably handsome, but an even more unspeakable actor." Holmes' overwrought attempts to handle the already melodramatic dialogue sabotages every scene he is in. 

Much to my surprise, the best lead performance is by Lionel Barrymore. He has never been one of my favorites because he always seems to trot out one of two variations of his usual schtick: the kindly father figure (as in the Doctor Kildare pictures) or a sinister old codger (It's A Wonderful Life). Here he is wonderful, etching his character's pain especially well in silent moments. The support players are also superb, particularly Ms. Carter, Frank Sheridan, Tully Marshall, and ZaSu Pitts.

Despite its obvious shortcomings, Broken Lullaby has a number of extraordinary passages that are as effective as any in Lubitsch's ouevre. The framing and editing of shots is as superb in this film as in is in the same year's Trouble in Paradise, perhaps Lubitsch's best film. A sequence showing the spread of gossip in the village about the two lovers is equal to such bravura moments in Lubitsch's comic films. The opening sequence showing Paris marking Armistice day in 1919 is a signal achievement. After a few establishing shots, Lubitsch cuts to a view of the celebratory parade that also underlines the cost of the conflict.

The film then shows veterans in a hospital traumatized by celebratory cannonades. Lubitsch then cuts to Notre Dame where, after a memorial mass, we meet our protagonist. A tart shot conveys that swords have not been beaten into plowshares.

Broken Lullaby is by no means top drawer Lubitsch, but moments like these display his greatness. Holmes' performance upends the film, but the film's finest moments linger in my mind. The film has been relatively neglected critically despite spirited endorsements by Jean Mitry and Jonathan Rosenbaum. As the plague of warfare infests the Ukraine and the Holy Land, Lubitsch's impassioned denunciation of armed conflict in Broken Lullaby seems both deeply felt and all too timely.