The sound design for Edward Berger’s All Quiet on the Western Front was an intricate reflection of the horrors of war, designed to evoke both the dehumanization of soldiers and the relentless machinery of battle. The approach to sound in this film was heavily influenced by its dark historical context. The creative team, knowing that they were retelling a part of Germany’s past, sought to avoid glorifying the experience of war, a common pitfall in many other war films. From the very beginning, it was clear that the sound design would need to avoid any sense of heroism or victory, opting instead to focus on the brutal reality of soldiers as they were ground down by the machinery of conflict.
In the opening sequence of the film, the sound tells the story of a uniform being passed from one dead soldier to the next, a cycle that would repeat throughout the war. This scene was largely silent, without dialogue, but was loaded with sounds that captured the essence of the film. The sound design served as a representation of the industrialization of war, where men were no longer individuals but rather pieces of the machine. The uniforms, symbolizing the soldiers themselves, moved through an assembly line of death. The highlight of this scene was the transformation of the sound of a sewing machine stitching a uniform into the harsh sound of a machine gun, linking the act of making the uniform to the killing machine it would become part of. This auditory transition set the tone for the rest of the film, emphasizing the dehumanization central to the story.
The sound design team worked closely with director Edward Berger, who gave them the creative freedom to experiment and come up with a sonic palette that avoided clichés. One of the most important elements of the film’s sound was the use of a harmonium, which was passed down to the composer through his family. This harmonium was refurbished and amplified, producing an earthy, distorted bass sound that was meant to represent the primal, brutal emotions of the soldiers in the trenches. When the composer sent the initial cue featuring the harmonium to Berger, the director’s enthusiastic response solidified its place in the score, and this sound would be used throughout the film to capture the soldiers’ inner turmoil.
Throughout the film, the sound design moved fluidly between realism and a more stylized approach, particularly during battle sequences. Berger and the sound team wanted the battles to feel as though the audience was right alongside the soldiers, experiencing the chaos and terror firsthand. One way they achieved this was by focusing much of the action off-screen, allowing the sound to tell the story of what was happening just out of view. This decision was rooted in the idea that war is often experienced indirectly by those who survive it, through sound and sensation rather than direct confrontation.
To capture the visceral quality of these scenes, the sound team avoided heavily processed or artificial sounds. Instead, they relied on naturalistic sound elements, often enhanced by creative techniques. For example, contact microphones were dragged through the earth to create a deep, crunching sound that was then pitched down to simulate the experience of soldiers falling into the mud during battle. The idea was to make the audience feel as though they were physically immersed in the experience, with sounds that were raw, unrefined, and real.
This approach extended to how the team handled the dynamics of the film’s sound. Rather than following a predictable pattern of loud and quiet moments, the sound design shifted constantly in terms of density and spatial width. In some scenes, the sound was narrow, tight, and focused, reflecting the claustrophobic conditions of trench warfare. In others, even when quiet, the sound expanded to convey the vast, desolate battlefields and the immense scale of the conflict. This variability allowed the audience to follow the emotional journey of Paul and his fellow soldiers in a more intimate and visceral way.
One of the most striking examples of this dynamic approach was the scene where a bunker collapses during a battle. After the chaos of the collapse, the sound abruptly becomes silent, emphasizing the disorientation and shock of the soldiers. To capture the sound of the earth shifting and the bunker crumbling, sound designer Frank Kruse used contact microphones to record the sound of dragging materials through dirt. These recordings were then manipulated and pitched down to create an almost avalanche-like effect, giving the collapse an ominous, suffocating weight. This kind of sound would normally be considered unusable in traditional filmmaking, but in All Quiet on the Western Front, it was precisely this rawness that made the sound so effective.
The sound design also played a crucial role in conveying the psychological toll of war. In one sequence, Paul and his fellow soldiers find a moment of respite at a field kitchen, but their brief joy is interrupted by the arrival of tanks. The sound of the tanks was designed to feel like the relentless march of war, an unstoppable machine that devours everything in its path. As the tanks rolled into view, the score introduced deep, rumbling contrabass notes, creating a sense of impending doom. The sound of the tanks was accompanied by drums, emphasizing the mechanical nature of the war and the soldiers’ helplessness in the face of it.
The arrival of the tanks marked a turning point in the film, where the soldiers began to realize the futility of their efforts. The sound design in this moment captured both the external destruction caused by the tanks and the internal collapse of the soldiers’ morale. Despite the wildness of the battle sounds—the explosions, the gunfire, and the clattering of tank treads—the sound designers added an undertone of sorrow and defeat, reflecting the gradual fading of life and hope amidst the carnage.
In contrast to the cacophony of the battle scenes, there were moments of quiet contemplation, such as when Paul is isolated with a dying French soldier in a crater. The sound here was minimal, allowing the audience to focus on the intimacy of the scene. Paul’s breathing, the shifting of his body in the mud, and the faint sounds of distant battle created a sense of isolation and helplessness. The sound design emphasized the personal struggle of the individual soldier, even amidst the massive scale of the war.
In a particularly poignant moment, Paul wakes up in the trench and hears the sound of a bird singing. This simple sound, a reminder of the natural world outside the horrors of war, stood in stark contrast to the brutality surrounding him. The sound designers chose this as a moment of respite for both the character and the audience, a brief glimpse of beauty in the middle of devastation. It served as a reminder of what the soldiers were fighting for—a world beyond the trenches, a return to normalcy.
The score also played a key role in the emotional narrative of the film. The composer avoided using traditional war movie tropes, instead opting for a more restrained, raw sound. One of the most striking musical choices was the use of reversed strings and breathing sounds in the film’s final moments. This created a texture that felt like inhaling and exhaling, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the end of the war. This sonic choice reinforced the idea that war, while relentless, eventually stops, leaving only silence in its wake.
The collaboration between the sound department and Edward Berger was characterized by mutual respect and creative freedom. Berger provided broad strokes of inspiration rather than micromanaging, allowing the sound designers to explore new techniques and push boundaries. This level of creative trust enabled the sound team to develop a unique auditory experience that brought audiences inside the minds and bodies of the soldiers.
In the final sequence, the sound did not crescendo into a grand, triumphant piece of music but rather held back, creating a texture that felt like the fading breaths of the world after the devastation. The reverse strings and subtle breathing sounds underscored the film’s message about the futility of war, leaving the audience with a quiet, haunting reminder of the human cost of conflict.
Ultimately, the sound design of All Quiet on the Western Front was about creating an experience that was both intimate and epic, visceral and psychological. It reflected the duality of war—the chaotic external battles and the internal struggles of the soldiers. The film’s soundscape did not simply accompany the visuals but became an essential part of the storytelling, immersing the audience in the physical and emotional realities of war. Through innovative techniques and a deep understanding of the characters’ experiences, the sound team succeeded in crafting a sonic landscape that was as powerful and unrelenting as the war itself.