Celluloid War Memorials, a new study by Mark Connelly, one of our best historians of war and popular culture, examines in detail the Great War films of one of the most important film producers of the interwar period. Neglected by many later commentators, the British Instructional Films Company's battlefield reconstructions were significant in the memorialization of the Great War and in the cultural struggle to remember the contribution of Britain and the empire to final victory.

H. Bruce Woolfe, who had served on the Western Front as an infantry officer, established the British Instructional Film Company in an army hut at Elstree. The company's reputation was made with the documentary series Secrets of Nature. These films pioneered new cinematographic techniques and were highly praised for their ability to combine educational elements with entertainment. But Woolfe soon turned his experience and the cinematographic skill of his team to the most important event in recent history, the Great War. His first project was a documentary reconstruction of the Battle of Jutland, based on the research of the historian Sir George Aston. Using models, maps, and a freeze-frame technique involving numerous tiny adjustments, The Battle of Jutland made sense of a highly confusing and contested battle for the general public. The film established itself as the definitive version of the battle and was highly praised by critics, audiences, and naval experts alike, who praised its educational value. Unsurprisingly, the film was also well received throughout the empire. Woolfe and Aston followed up their success with Armageddon (1923), a detailed examination of General Allenby's Palestine Campaign. Unfortunately, like Jutland, this film is now lost. Nevertheless, Connelly has used the available sources to put together a valuable examination of the project. With Armageddon, Woolfe broadened his technique, using available newsreel footage, stills, and battlefield reconstructions to fill gaps in the narrative. It was this use of reconstruction that gave Armageddon, and all British Instructional Film Company's subsequent productions, the emotional impact that allowed audiences to identify with the participants. The film was highly praised, and as Connelly notes, it “established BIF as a powerful new force in British cinema … . capable of innovation and hard-headed business insight to ensure the highest possible profile and profit margin for its products” (62).

Perhaps the highlights of British Instructional Film Company's productions were its reconstructions of the great battles on the Western Front, Ypres (1925) and Mons (1926). Ypres, which tells the story of the army's involvement with the “Holy Ground of the British Arms,” was made with the cooperation of the War Office, which provided men, equipment, and location shooting facilities on Salisbury Plain. The film narrates the battles around Ypres from the first clash in 1914 though the 1917 Battle of Messines and the bloody fighting at Passchendaele. Based on extensive research, the film uses both genuine footage and reconstructions. In an attempt to show the “value of individual human efforts in shaping the outcome of events,” it focused on the stories of fourteen individual soldiers. As Connelly points out, eleven of these stories are of “Victoria Cross winners and they reflect the glory of the whole Empire” (105). Premiered at the Marble Arch Pavilion, the film was a critical and commercial success throughout the empire, an unashamedly patriotic tribute to the nation and the British and Commonwealth armies. It was also the company's greatest commercial venture. Its sequel, Mons, was the story of the retreat of the British Expeditionary Force to the River Marne in the first year of the war. Generally well received by critics, Mons faced considerable competition from Hollywood's antiwar vision of the war as evidenced by The Big Parade, released around the same time (1925). The company made one final reconstruction before turning to conventional feature films, The Battles of Coronel and Falkland Islands (1927), a “hybrid between reconstruction and mainstream cinema in which the action was driven by attention on the main participants” (199). While actors played the leading participants, the film was an accurate recreation of the main events. Coronel had perhaps less impact than the company's earlier films, but it was, as Connelly argues, the “highpoint of British film production during the silent era” (245).

British Instructional Film Company's final film about the Great War was Tell England (1931), a conventional feature film based on Ernest Raymond's popular novel of the same name. After that, the company's big-budget films failed to maintain their traditionally high profit margins. With a lavish new studio at Welwyn and an expensive conversion to sound, the company was taken over by the giant British International Pictures. As Connelly points out, “It was largely the end of the road for these amazing titles and they slipped from public attention along with so much silent film regardless of its quality” (256). The last major screening of these battle reconstructions was in 1950 at the British Film Institute, when a series on silent film included Coronel and Falklands Islands. H. Bruce Woolfe later established Gaumont-British Instructional and continued making scientific and educational films. But as Connelly suggests, the British Instructional Film Company's battle reconstructions reveal a “concept of the Great War far removed from modern visions,” embodying a “theme that has been largely ignored in memory studies and which requires wider investigation, namely, the deep connection between patriotism, remembrance/commemoration and profit” (269). The achievement was in the amazing breadth of the company's battle reconstructions—also, in the depiction of the extraordinary actions of ordinary men, which emphasized the immense endurance of the soldiers and sailors, as well as their earthy humor and good nature. Woolfe's company made frontline troops the driving force of their films. It is an enormous pity that today the films are unavailable for modern audiences. Mark Connelly's excellent book reconstructs a company that combined innovative filmmaking, patriotism, and profits, and in the process pushed the boundaries of filmmaking while commemorating the achievements of British arms during the Great War.