NR | 1h 53m | Drama, War | 1938
A masterpiece of cinema, “The Grand Illusion” has left an indelible mark on film history. Near the end, two dark figures trudge wearily through a snow-covered valley, their path flanked by towering mountains as German soldiers pursue them. These men have journeyed far to reach an invisible line—the border between Germany and Switzerland. It’s a line that separates not only nations, but also freedom from imprisonment and life from death. Will they make it across? The answer to this question, and the deeper meaning behind it, is tied to the film’s themes and its title.
The film’s metaphors are deeply rooted in dualities, and the imaginary lines we create. Some separate people and classes, while others are merely constructs imposed by society.
Set during World War I, the film unfolds in an era when aristocratic power was waning. Though it explores the futility of war and the class system, it also touches on universal human experiences—generosity, loyalty, sacrifice, and hope.
This is a fine example of nuanced filmmaking. You won’t find the staccato of machine guns, explosions, or death howls that modern war films often fall back on. The title is drawn from the novel “The Great Illusion” by English author and Nobel Peace Prize winner Norman Angell. The author argues that war is futile in a world where international economies and relationships are so intricately intertwined.
Jean Gabin shines as Lt. Maréchal, an everyman soldier from a working-class background, while Pierre Fresnay steps into the boots of Capt. de Boeldieu, a stoic aristocrat. Though both serve as pilots in the French Air Force, their differences are stark. Maréchal revels in life’s simple pleasures, while Boeldieu’s aristocratic heritage sets him apart, creating subtle class tension between the two.
Boeldieu and Maréchal leave their squadron base on a reconnaissance mission but are shot down by Capt. von Rauffenstein (Erich von Stroheim), a notoriously skilled German flying ace. Surprisingly, when Rauffenstein returns to his base, he tells his subordinates to fetch the two Frenchmen so that they can enjoy lunch together.
When Boeldieu and Maréchal arrive at the German base, they’re met with unexpected warmth, especially considering the circumstances. Rauffenstein, embodying old-world decorum, invites them to dine with him and his men. A notable moment during the meal sees a German soldier kindly cutting Maréchal’s meat for him, acknowledging the Frenchman’s wounded arm—a subtle yet poignant gesture of humanity in a time of war. Meanwhile, Rauffenstein and Boeldieu quickly find common ground, bonding over their shared aristocratic backgrounds and mutual interests.
Boeldieu and Maréchal are soon shipped off to an officer’s prison camp where they meet and bond with an eclectic group of fellow Frenchmen. These include an eccentric vaudevillian actor, Cartier (Julien Carette), and Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio) who hails from a prosperous French-Jewish family of bankers.
It doesn’t take long before Boeldieu and Maréchal earn the trust of their fellow prisoners and are let in on a daring escape plan that’s already in motion. The group has been quietly digging a secret tunnel beneath some removable floorboards, hoping to break free from their German captors. Will their risky plan work?
This is a character-driven drama that grabs your attention and never lets go. It’s the type of film that endears you to its characters so much that you try to anticipate their next move or worry about their fates. It reminds me of a stage play, with fascinating characters leaving the stage, the lights dim to darkness, and then slowly brighten again as new characters appear in a new setting.
No violence is depicted. Action is implied, such as when the scenes switch from Boeldieu and Maréchal leaving their squadron room. The next time we see them they are being cordially escorted to dine with Rauffenstein.
There are some grim scenes that aren’t soon forgotten, but usually these have some element of generosity or compassion in them. Maréchal is sent to an isolation cell, punishment for being rebellious during a prisoner-created vaudeville show. He becomes extremely depressed until one of the more kind-hearted prison guards enters his cell, and Maréchal begins yelling about being cooped up for so long. The guard gives him a harmonica, an instrument he cherishes. The guard waits outside the cell until he can hear Maréchal begin to play the instrument before smiling and walking away. When questioned about why Maréchal was yelling, the guard answers “The war is lasting too long.”
Main and supporting characters are all well-drawn and multifaceted. Rosenthal represents the emerging bourgeois class but is far from the stereotype of a nouveau riche banker. He shares large food parcels with his friends so that they can eat luxury meals instead of the usual prison food. Marcel Dalio plays the role with empathy, and the character’s generosity shines through.
Dita Parlo plays Elsa, a German widow who helps a couple of the main characters near the end of the film. Elsa’s compassion is heartfelt, even though she is considered “the enemy” of the French.
Pierre Fresnay’s Boeldieu initially comes off as icy and aloof. Yet as the story progresses, he begins to realize that he and Rauffenstein both belong to a fading world. While Boeldieu initially displays indifference, even suggesting they leave one of the group behind, he later redeems himself through an extraordinary act of self-sacrifice.
This timeless classic still resonates today, as it offers a hopeful reflection on the illusions that shape our world, and the enduring connections that unite humanity across all borders, classes, and conflicts.
