Now that Iran is caught in a devastating and inhumane urban war in the Middle East, I want us to take a look at the images portrayed in some of the world’s films that depict the disasters of war — a body of work that can be called anti-war cinema. This is one of the most important artistic and moral movements in the history of world cinema — a movement that stands against the glorification of violence and the creation of military heroes, striving instead to reveal the true and terrifying face of war: a face covered in dust, blood, tears, helplessness, destruction, and the loss of human dignity.
The significance of anti-war cinema lies not only in its criticism of war as a destructive phenomenon, but also in its defense of peace, humanity, and truth — a truth that is often buried under patriotic slogans, military propaganda, and official narratives.
Throughout the history of cinema, films with anti-war perspectives have consistently provided a distinct and essential voice, especially during times of crisis. All Quiet on the Western Front, directed by Lewis Milestone in 1930 and based on the novel by Erich Maria Remarque, was one of the first major anti-war films made in Hollywood. With a neutral and humanistic view, the film depicted the fear and fragility of German soldiers in World War I and introduced the world to the hidden, bitter truth of war. Decades later, the 2022 adaptation of the same story revived this tragedy in a contemporary language, proving that its human message remains alive.
Akira Kurosawa’s films such as Rhapsody in August and Ikiru reflect the catastrophe of the atomic bombings and convey the suffering of the Eastern human being in the face of war. With a poetic and humane gaze, Kurosawa not only mourns the victims but also addresses the collective memory of a nation, blending the borders between documentary and lyrical cinema.
In Italy, Life is Beautiful by Roberto Benigni, with its bittersweet humor and humanistic storytelling, illuminated a glimmer of hope, paternal love, and human resilience in the heart of one of history’s darkest tragedies — the Holocaust. This film showed that anti-war cinema does not necessarily rely on images of bullets and explosions; it can, through delicate and emotional storytelling, expose the horrors of war from another angle.
Another notable work is Platoon by Oliver Stone, which offered an unfiltered portrayal of the Vietnam War — a film drawn from Stone’s personal experiences in combat, echoing the terror and futility of war through the voices of American soldiers. A similar approach is seen in Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now, an adaptation of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, which examines the madness and moral collapse of man at the heart of war.
Contemporary cinema has not strayed from this path. Sam Mendes’s 1917, despite its technical innovations, is at its core an overtly anti-war film. Set amidst the blood-soaked fields of World War I, it centers on the futility of slaughter and the suffering of young soldiers. Even Edge of Tomorrow, starring Tom Cruise — though a science fiction film — carries within it a message about the endless repetition of war and the futility of violence.
In Iranian cinema, films like Bashu, the Little Stranger by Bahram Beyzai powerfully depict the human and victim-centered face of war. Bashu, a southern child who loses his family and flees to northern Iran, represents all the children who have been torn from their homes, their language, and their childhood by war. Without ever showing the battlefield directly, the film conveys the catastrophe of war more vividly than a thousand explosions could.
Anti-war cinema, contrary to what some may think, is not a genre — it is a moral and human stance against the distortion of truth. In a world where military propaganda machines and state media are constantly building heroes and legitimizing violence, this cinema acts as an awakened conscience, ensuring that the suffering of victims does not go unheard. Wars are often forgotten, but the image of a displaced child, the helpless gaze of a mother, or a lifeless body lying on the ground — if captured through the lens of cinema — can remain forever in the collective memory of humanity.
Anti-war cinema is an invitation to reflection, to protest, to empathy. This cinema says: before you think of defending borders, defend human beings. Before you glorify the nation, consider the dignity of humanity. And perhaps one day, if these voices are heard more loudly, no bullet will be fired, no child will be orphaned, and peace will no longer be just a cinematic dream…
