Broken Lullaby

A truly moving post-war drama sparkling on the edges with Lubitsch’s particular brand of comedy and romance. Paul Renaud is a French soldier deeply disturbed by killing a German counterpart and finding his last love letter to his fiancee at his side. Tortured by guilt, he wastes away for three years, eventually seeks solace in the church, and when all else fails decides he must visit the man’s family in Germany. Nationalist hostility at having a Frenchman in their house soon gives way to welcoming embraces when they realize this is the same young man who has just lain flowers on their son’s grave, and unable to confess he tells them they were great buddies in Paris, soon finding himself a part of the family and falling in love with the fiancee.

As always, Lubitsch takes a run-of-the-mill plot and adds wonderful dimension and character to it; the bonds that form between these characters are deep and ring true, and when his secret is inevitably uncovered it is resolved beautifully and surprisingly. There are moments of real gut-wrenching sorrow, as when two grieving mothers meet in a graveyard remembering their fallen soldiers, lapse into a discussion of recipes, and then suddenly realize anew, “there are so many years ahead of us.” And there are moments of delightful comedy done the Lubitsch way, as when the young couple stroll through town, greeted by the ringing of bells that the viewer knows signal shop doors opening for the townfolk to gape at them, though the camera stays on the pair all the while. It’s a really lovely little film.