At first glance, cinema and the military seem to be worlds apart: one is about fiction and emotion, the other about strategy and legitimate, practical violence. However, these two worlds have intersected and influenced each other since the beginnings of the seventh art. Long before cinema, war inspired painting, theatre and literature. But cinema, with its immersive and emotional power, has offered a new way of looking at conflicts. Indeed, cinema has never remained indifferent to war: it has told the story, denounced it, staged it, sometimes idealised it, and often questioned it.
From the very first films at the end of the XIXᵉ century, the seventh art accompanied the political and technical upheavals, with each war marking an evolution in representation. Indeed, very early on, war became a privileged subject: reconstructions, fictions inspired by real events, testimonies... At the same time, States understood the strategic interest of cinema as a tool for propaganda, communication and the construction of collective memory.
Conflicts are depicted in many different ways: epic frescoes, intimate films, committed documentaries and blockbusters. Each work reflects its era and society's view of war.
WAR EVOLVES, SO DOES CINEMA
In 1914, cinema, still in its infancy, quickly became a tool of information and propaganda. Filmed newsreels depicted an aseptic, polished war, highlighting courage, duty and the exploits of soldiers while concealing violence and death. The director Léonce Perret, author of the highly patriotic Never forget (1918), said that he had tried to "show the noble side of war" and had not wanted to "frighten anyone with its ravages". These words sum up the state of mind at the time.
Between the wars, the tone gradually changed. I accuse (1919) by Abel Gance marks a break with the past: it brings out the dead to question the living and denounce the war and its profiteers, while expressing the divide between the front and the rear. Les Croix de bois (1932) by Raymond Bernard was an extension of this ideology, showing the raw reality of the fighting through the use of former poilus as extras. By showing war crudely, he hoped to put an end to it. In 1938, Abel Gance directed a new version of I accusethis time with sound. He dedicates his film "to the war dead of tomorrow", already predicting a new conflict.
Under the Occupation, during the Second World War, film production was tightly controlled by Vichy and the Nazis, who used it as a formidable propaganda tool. Many films produced between 1940 and 1944 conveyed a conservative, pro-rural or anti-Semitic ideology, as part of an authoritarian cultural policy. However, some filmmakers circumvented censorship by using metaphor or double-speak, turning cinema into a symbolic arena of resistance.
The Dictator by Charlie Chaplin (1940), produced in the United States, openly mocked the Nazi regime and Adolf Hitler, while the rest of the film industry shied away from it. In his famous Raven (1943), Henri-Georges Clouzot criticised the practice of denunciation encouraged by the Vichy regime and the Nazi occupiers - even though it was produced by the German company Continental Films.
"THE LONGEST DAY", A GRANDIOSE AND SIMPLISTIC SHOW?
A decade later, the documentary Night and Fog by Alain Resnais (1956) takes a starkly realistic look at Nazi deportation and concentration camps. Although he was commissioned by the Comité d'histoire de la Deuxième Guerre mondiale, an interministerial body set up by the government in 1951, the director had to deal with censorship, notably by masking the kepi of a gendarme guarding the internment camp at Pithiviers (Loiret) in an archive photo, so as not to highlight the complicity of Vichy France in the deportations. In the name of Franco-German reconciliation, the German embassy ensured that the film was withdrawn from the official selection of the Cannes Film Festival - it was therefore screened out of competition.
More generally, after 1945, France sought to rebuild the image of a strong, resilient and victorious nation. Films focused on the heroes of the Resistance and the battles they had won, often obscuring the collaboration and political ambiguities of the time.
In the 1960s, blockbusters such as The Longest Day (1962) by Ken Annakin, Andrew Marton and Bernhard Wicki, became the leading figures of the genre. The film offered a grandiose spectacle with an international cast and highly realistic battle scenes. The film's technical realism fascinated viewers, but critics denounced its glorification of action to the detriment of truth, deeming it simplistic.
At the same time, from the 1950s onwards, French cinema began to deal with colonial wars, which had long been kept quiet. The conflicts in Indochina and Algeria shattered the national consensus and fuelled a more critical, committed cinema that denounced the violence of the conflicts. The Battle of Algiers (1966), by Gillo Pontecorvo, exposes the brutality of this major episode in the Algerian war; its screenings provoked controversy and threats of attacks.
FILMS FUEL PUBLIC DEBATE
Have 20 years in the Aurès (1972) by René Vautier, which shows the trauma of young conscripts, was judged unrealistic by some soldiers, such as the general and political scientist Maurice Faivre, who had commanded conscripts during this conflict. These films opened up a public debate on colonialism and repressed memory and divided French society, unlike those dealing with the World Wars, which were supported by the national unity that resulted.
With Saving Private Ryan (1998), the American director Steven Spielberg turned the representation of combat on its head. Violence and fear replace the heroic myth: he shows terrified and fragile men. This realism has also left its mark on contemporary French cinema, which is moving away from epic frescoes by demythologising conflicts and exploring the psychological scars and human consequences of war.
The 2000s saw the continuation of this representation: war is increasingly approached through its repercussions on individuals, whether civilians or soldiers. The distance of time and geography is transforming the way war is depicted. We no longer show combat so much as its psychological, moral and human consequences. Merry Christmas (2005) by Christian Carion depicts the Christmas truce of 1914 by showing the similarity of the men on both sides who are killing each other. While The Fragments of Antonin (2006), by Gabriel Le Bomin, tells the story of a soldier broken from the inside out and unable to rebuild his life.
These works are part of a cinema that questions memory and refuses to glorify the conflict: it deconstructs it, analyses it and distances itself from it. It deconstructs it, analyses it and distances itself from it. This cinema is an invitation to think about war, not as a myth, but as a tragically human reality.
THE GRADUAL OPENING UP OF ARMIES TO CAMERAS
Today, another trend is emerging: the gradual opening up of armies to the cameras. From now on, cinema will no longer be content with depicting war itself from the outside, but will explore the contemporary reality of the army from the inside: the day-to-day life of the armed forces, their organisation, their values and their missions.
This is of course the case when the army itself produces films. The documentary Surfaces - the Navy and the changing world (2025) is a perfect representation of this. Produced by the Établissement de communication et de production audiovisuelle de la Défense (ECPAD), this film immerses viewers in the French Navy, on board nuclear submarines, frigates and the aircraft carrier Charles-de-Gaulle. Through the testimonies of sailors and the analysis of experts, it sheds light on the preparation of naval forces for new strategic challenges.
By opening their doors to film-makers, the armed forces agree to expose part of their reality - the sacrifices, the commitments, but also the complexity of their profession. This collaboration gives rise to a new type of narrative: halfway between documentary, transmission and testimony. In this way, contemporary war films become a genuine forum for dialogue between civil society and the military establishment.
2016 : THE TURNING POINT FOR THE MISSION CINEMA ET INDUSTRIES CRÉATIVES (MCIC)
In addition to the work of ECPAD, the French armed forces are also opening up to the world of culture. Once closed to cameras, they are now actively collaborating with authors and producers. This shift took concrete form in May 2016 with the creation of the Ministry of the Armed Forces' Mission Cinéma et Industries Créatives (MCIC).
The MCIC facilitates defence-related audiovisual and cultural projects, whether films, series, video games or comic strips. It offers comprehensive support: filming permits and access to military sites, technical and historical advice, training for actors in military gestures and codes, and checking the coherence and authenticity of stories, while respecting creative freedom.
As a result, it has become the single point of entry for professionals wishing to represent the army. Recent projects include the following series Black hearts (since 2023) by Ziad Doueiri and The Office of Legends (2015-2020) by Éric Rochant, or the film Riflemen (2022) by Mathieu Vadepied.
Thanks to this collaboration, the military institution is now helping to present a more nuanced image of its men and women: less myth, more reality.
