Three Imperial Light Infantrymen: A dusty, strange march into the past

Is it worth the watch?

Honestly, you probably won't find this on your weekend 'must-watch' list unless you’re a complete sucker for pre-talkie or early European war dramas. It’s got that specific, heavy atmosphere that feels like a museum exhibit. If you enjoy movies that linger on faces and quiet, unspoken grief, you might actually like it. If you’re looking for action or a snappy pace, stay far, far away.

The whole thing feels a bit like reading a diary that’s been left out in the rain. Our protagonist is an exiled Austrian nobleman who just can't seem to stay out of trouble, or rather, can't seem to stay away from the war.

Watching these three guys march off, you get this weird sense of impending doom that isn't loud or explosive. It’s just... there. It’s quiet. It’s the kind of silence that usually precedes a headache in a modern blockbuster, but here it’s just the default setting.

Odd little things that stuck out:

• The uniforms look like they’re made of cardboard, which I found strangely charming.
• There’s a scene early on where someone stares at a map for way too long. It’s just a paper map!
• The lighting in the interior shots makes everyone look like they’ve seen a ghost, which I guess is the point.

It’s not as polished as something like Rupert of Hentzau, but it has this raw, weird energy that’s hard to ignore. Sometimes the camera just sits there, capturing a moment that feels like it should have been edited out, yet it stays. You can feel the director trying to pull some big emotion out of thin air.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Three Imperial Light Infantrymen (1933) through its definitive frames.

It reminded me a bit of the mood in Die Minderjährige - Zu jung fürs Leben, where the stakes feel personal and small even when the world is ending. The acting is very much of its time—lots of heavy brow-furrowing and dramatic gestures. It’s not subtle. But does it have to be?

There are moments where the film just stops dead. You’re waiting for a scene to move forward, and instead, the characters just sit there, looking at each other like they’ve forgotten their lines. Maybe they hadn't. It adds this weird, jagged rhythm that you don't get in movies made today.

I found myself checking the clock, not because I was bored, but because the pacing is so unpredictable. One minute you’re in a tense conversation, the next you’re watching a horse walk across a field for forty seconds. It’s a strange, dusty little flick. 🎞️

If you want a movie that doesn't care if you're keeping up, this is it. It’s just going to keep marching, whether you're watching or not.