Lest we forget.

Flippant though it may sound, World War I is a tough one to pull off on the big screen. Held up against WWII, it’s comparative lack of cinematic presence seems odd on first look; yet, dig a little deeper into the trench mud and it’s not hard to see why.

In a genre that prides itself on championing glory and heroism, even in war’s darkest moments, the so-called Great War has always struggled to sell itself as a conflict to remember with anything but dismay, heartache, and anger.

Initially deemed the war to end all wars, WWI was a bloodthirsty conflict that had far-reaching consequences across the globe; yet a great portion of the battle was played out in the hellish confines of cramped trenches dotted across Europe where, in lieu of hope or glory, fear and despair choked the air. Consequently, and with millions of lives tragically lost for little gain, there are precious few stories to be found in the trenches that lend themselves to palatable cinematic interpretation.

As the forth big screen adaptation of R. C. Sherriff’s play, Journey’s End is such testament to the enduring power of its scathing commentary on war that, one hundred years after the Spring Offensive it depicts, the film’s message still resonates to this day. With some in positions of power as willing as ever to drag us into unnecessary conflict and over-zealous nationalism, never has it been more important to soak in the true horrors the story lays before us.

Taught and incredibly honest, Journey’s End is a film that flat-out refuses to sugar-coat its message, using brutal honesty to admirably avoid the flag-waving glorification that can seep into the war genre. Come the credits, I defy anyone to leave feeling anything but despair and anger at, not just the travesty of WWI, but the sheer futility of war itself.

However, while it arrives drenched in scathing anti-war sentiment, Journey’s End isn’t a film to bog itself down in emotion or politicking. In fact, Journey’s End is rather reserved on that front, as it steadfastly refuses to get drawn into soapboxing in any form.

Make no mistake, Journey’s End is a scornful attack on the callousness of war and the injustice dealt to those caught within in; yet, despite the global conflict raging around its characters, the film is a far more personal experience. Preferring to tap into those small moments of fear, hope, memory, despair, and levity deep down in the trenches; Journey’s End pulls us into something far more resonant than any all-guns-blazing assault could provide.

There’s a simplicity and a low-key authenticity to Journey’s End that carries the film a long way. It’s cramped, claustrophobic, quietly terrifying, and heartbreakingly intimate in precisely the right ways to reveal the true, stifling nature of the WWI trench. The film’s honesty is absolutely devastating at times as the discreet, simmering fear felt among the soldiers appears so genuine, it’s almost too much to bear.

Likeminded war films would find themselves swallowed whole by the impenetrable bleakness of the setting, yet writer, Simon Reade and director, Saul Dibb eschew this brilliantly; ensuring there are enough wonderful nuggets of quiet humanity and dignity to allow the audience much-needed breathing space against the stifling spectre of death.

With much of the drama situated within the oppressive inner-workings of the Aisne trenches that would become the stage for many of the soldiers’ final moments, Dibb makes wonderful use of the film’s cramped location to offer the most authentic experience possible. Even as the single location threatens to suck the life out of the film, the unbearable suffocation and simmering tension ensure we’re always kept on our toes. But, while the film does a fantastic job of allowing the restrictive location to inform the drama, it does fall into an all-too familiar trap.

The inherent problem with approaching any film adaptation of a play is the fundamental staginess that comes along with it. While there’s no reason to suggest these adaptations can’t work, a play’s intrinsic lack of scope can often put a roadblock on a smooth switch to the big screen. As the name suggests, stage plays are restricted heavily by the confines of a theatre stage and, while any playwright worth their salt will be well-equipped to work around such limitations, a cinema screen is far more demanding.

Journey’s End is a beautifully shot film, with Laurie Rose’s wonderful cinematography making full use of her environmental restrictions, but there’s just something in the cramped, small-scale action that struggles to truly justify itself in a movie. As if to emphasis the problem, the film’s battle scenes, while certainly well-staged, lack the magnitude required, holding Journey’s End back from the greatness it promises.

While Journey’s End is not a film of grandeur or sweeping scale, offering a trench-eye view of war; its difficulties speak to a fundamental problem with WWI movies. Cold, unglamorous, and stark; the innate tragedy and unfathomable horror of such a relentlessly bloody conflict just aren’t natural bedfellows for the big screen.

Unlike WWII’s (relatively) clean-cut nature, the First World War just didn’t unfold in any satisfactory way and, to that end, attempting to unpick a war few would consider a win for anyone feels wholly uncinematic. Although Journey’s End manages to find some form of filmic beauty amidst the mess, it’s still a wholly unglamorous picture it paints and far from the most comfortable of cinema-going experiences.

Character and dialogue are the true key to the film’s success, as it finds tiny moments of beauty in the innocuous, yet devastatingly pointed, interactions between its characters. As the clock ticks closer to the inevitable, the conversations turn from gallows humour to blind rage to beleaguered acceptance in the blink of an eye and the marvellous screenwriting dexterity on display ensures that nothing ever feels forced.

While the setting may be simple, the writing is anything but, as it takes in some wonderfully constructed, poignantly executed dialogue that cuts to the heart of life in such horrific circumstances. Kept natural and low-key, the writing avoids soapboxing; choosing instead to focus on the small moments of devastating simplicity. Whether discussing rugby or god-awful food, these are interactions that impact precisely because of their intimacy; connecting us to these characters, not as heroic soldiers sent to fight, but as terrified humans sent to die.

With such a dialogue-heavy film, it’s crucial the talent behind the words is there to ensure the desired impact, and it’s here that Journey’s End delivers across the board. Very much the ensemble piece, there are no stars as Journey’s End ensures that none of its characters fit comfortably into the archetypal hero role, yet each solider is allowed at least the tiniest moment of personal heroism along the way.

Of all the characters, perhaps the closest the film comes to an outright hero is Paul Bettany’s Lieutenant Osborne, whose calm demeanour, paternal instincts, and natural empathy in such horrific circumstances are utterly heart-breaking. At the other end of the scale, Sam Claflin’s Captain Stanhope is a broken mess; yet even then, as he stares down the barrel and his brittle mental state exposes the utter trauma of war, he is allowed some form of heroism as he drags himself out of the bottle long enough to rally and comfort his men.

With a string of franchise hits under his belt, it’s great to see Claflin finally let rip with something with a little more meat on it, and it’s on his shoulders that the film’s ultimate success hinges. As a whirlwind of simmering anger, frustration, and unadulterated fear; Claflin’s booze-soaked protagonist encapsulates the insanity of the situation perfectly, with the actor’s fantastic range ensuring that the damaged captain retains our sympathy, despite his faults.

Although the film’s singular, cramped setting sees it fall into the usual stage-to-screen adaptation trap; director, Saul Dibb and writer, Simon Reade combine to ensure that the lack of scale is never too much of an issue. As the bullets fly and the bombs drop, Journey’s End refuses to shirk its responsibility of recounting this small piece of WWI in all its horror, yet never once finds itself politicking. Taught, simple, and incredibly honest; Journey’s End makes the most of its talented ensemble to tell a scathing and deeply human tale of dignity and bravely in the face of unspeakable conditions. A century on from the fateful Spring Offensive, Journey’s End acts as a timely reminder of our collective responsibility to never forget those that sacrificed it all and to ensure such dark moments for humanity are never repeated.