Parky at the Pictures (DVD 13/3/2014)

Created by John Eliot and produced by Sam Burge, the series ran for 13 episodes and chronicled the decline and fall of the Habsburg, Hohenzollerns and Romanov dynasties between 1853 and 1918. Impeccably designed and costumed, the storylines were written with eloquence, insight and intelligence by such small-screen stalwarts as Hugh Whitemore, Troy Kennedy Martin, Elizabeth Holford and Trevor Griffiths and directed with a sure sense of period and place by the likes of David Cunliffe, Bill Hays and Michael Lindsay-Hogg. The large ensemble cast included several star names, but there isn't a false performance in the entire 650 minutes.

The opening episode, `Death Waltz' takes place in the Austro-Hungarian Empire between 1853-60 and focuses on the young emperor, Franz Josef II (Miles Anderson) arguing with his dowager mother, the Archduchess Sophie (Pamela Brown) about his choice of bride. She favours her Bavarian niece, Hélène (Ann Penfold), but he is more intrigued by her 15 year-old sister, Elizabeth (Diane Keen). But, while she is swept away by her suitor charm, Sisi soon comes to realise she has made a mistake, as she is unsuited to be empress and completely incapable of standing up to her hectoring mother-in-law. Dynastic matters also dominated `The English Princess', which took the story to 1871, as the plan hatched by Queen Victoria (Perlita Neilson) and Prince Albert (Frank Thornton) to bring about a closer union between Britain and Prussia through the marriage of their daughter Vicky (Gemma Jones) to the Crown Prince Frederick (Denis Lill) was undone by the rise of militarism under Count Otto von Bismarck (Curd Jürgens), who succeeded in uniting Germany through wars against Denmark, Austria and France that earned him the nickname of `the Iron Chancellor'.

Keen to consolidate the position of the German Empire, Bismarck sought to bring Europe's autocracies closer together and `The Honest Broker' follows his efforts between 1887-90 to forge the League of the Three Emperors with Kaiser Wilhelm I (Maurice Denham), Franz Josef (Laurence Naismith) and Tsar Alexander III (Tony Jay). However, the passing of two kaisers in rapid succession brought the hot-headed Wilhelm II (Barry Foster) to the throne and he wasted little time in dispensing with Bismarck's services and starting to steer his own course, which was partially dictated by his love for his grandmother (Mavis Edwards) and his loathing of his mother, Vicky, who blames Bismarck for alienating the affection of her child. Around the time of this struggle for power in Berlin, Crown Prince Rudolf and his mistress, Mary Vetsera are found dead in a hunting lodge at Mayerling and `Requiem for a Crown Prince' examines the impact of the tragedy on both Franz Josef and Sisi (Rachel Gurney), while courtiers in Vienna strive to prevent rumours of murder and suicide leaking out and causing a scandal that could undermine Hapsburg authority.

Within three years of Archduke Franz Ferdinand (Peter Woodthorpe) becoming heir presumptive in place of his cousin, Nicholas II (Charles Kay) succeeds his father, Alexander III, who had no confidence whatsoever in his son's ability to control the vast and unruly Russian Empire. Initially reluctant to break his liaison with ballerina Mathilde Kschessinska (Jan Francis), Nicholas falls deeply in love with Princess Alexandra of Hesse-Darmstadt (Gatle Hunnicutt) and, as `The Last Tsar' unfolds, their match is supported by her grandmother, Queen Victoria, and his cousin, Wilhelm II, who is pleased at having some Germanic influence at the court in St Petersburg. But, even as the nation rejoices at the nuptials, revolutionary forces begin to organise themselves and `Absolute Beginners' centres on the 1903 struggle in London between Vladimir Ilych Lenin (Patrick Stewart) and Julius Martov (Edward Wilson) for control of the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party, which the former wins with the aid of his wife, Nadezhda Krupskaya (Lynn Farleigh), and in spite of the opposition of his once close ally, Leon Trotsky (Michael Kitchen).

A year later, Nicholas II is fighting a losing war with Japan when his son Alexei is born and diagnosed with haemophilia. However, his problems mount as `Dearest Nicky' develops, as the workers revolt in the capital and Interior Minister Vyacheslav von Plehve (Bruce Purchase) is assassinated. Despite both Alix and Kaiser Wilhelm urging him to be decisive, Nicholas remains convinced of the loyalty of his subjects. But their patience snaps when troops open fire during a demonstration led by police spy and Orthodox priest Georgi Gapon (Kenneth Colley). As the country stands on the brink, Wilhelm starts a covert correspondence to persuade his cousin to abandon his pact with France and ally with him. However, the Tsar's ministers discover the plot and impose their will upon him. The situation continues to deteriorate in `The Appointment', as Nicholas sacks his chief of the secret Okhrana police following the murder of his uncle, Grand Duke Sergei (Robert Brown) and seeks to appoint Pyotr Rachkovsky (Michael Bryant) in his place. However, loyal aide Sergei Witte (Freddie Jones) pleads with him not to trust a man with a dubious past and a ruthless approach to achieving results.

The contracting of an alliance with Britain in 1907 lifts some of the gloom over Russia at the start of `Dress Rehearsal' and Nicholas is glad to welcome Edward VII (Derek Francis) to St Petersburg in the hope of re-establishing  close ties with his uncle. But events soon conspire against him, as Foreign Minister Alexander Izvolsky (Peter Vaughan) clashes with his Austrian counterpart, Alois Lexa von Aehrenthal (John Moffat), over the Dardenelles and Russian access to the Black Sea. As the crisis deepens, Vienna annexes Bosnia and Herzogovina and the Great Powers contemplate a Balkan war. A leap of five years places the continent closer to the edge of the volcano in June 1914, as `Indian Summer of an Emperor' charts the reaction of Franz Josef to the assassination of Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Sarajevo. His decision to send a draconian ultimatum to Serbia results in a grovelling response that should have secured peace. But war follows with calamitous inevitability once Nicholas mobilises in support of his Slavic cousins and Wilhelm risks an invasion of Belgium - and, thus, a showdown with Britain - in order to adhere to the tenets of the Schlieffen Plan and knockout France before turning German might on Russia in support of Austria.

Franz Josef has already departed the scene before the Nicholas II decides to take personal charge of Russia's failing forces in `Tell the King the Sky is Falling'. Despairing of the counsel being given him by ministers Alexander Trepov (David Swift), Alexander Protopopov (Hugh Burden) and Mikhail Rodzianko (Charles Gray), Nicholas leaves for the front and leaves Alix in charge in their patriotically renamed capital Petrograd. But, with the Tsarevich (Piers Flint-Shipman) suffering from increasingly poor health, she becomes dependent upon faith healer Grigori Rasputin (Michael Aldridge), who not only produces a miracle cure, but also convinces that Tsarina that

As quickly becomes apparent in `The Secret War', the conflict is not going well for any of the cousins in 1917, with Wilhelm realising he is out of his depth in trying to find a way to break the stalemate on the Western Front. Consequently, much to the disgust of his son, Crown Prince Willy (Colin Baker), he relinquishes authority to generals Erich Ludendorff (Michael Bates) and Paul von Hindenburg (Marius Goring) and Admrial Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf (TP McKenna). Meanwhile, Nicholas has been overthrown by a revolution led by Alexander Kerensky (Jim Norton). However, he plans to keep Russia in the war and, so, the Germans conspire with Dr Alexander Helphand (Michael Gough) to smuggle Lenin out of Switzerland and get him across Europe by train to the Finland Station so he can seize power and sue for peace.

By 1918, Nicholas and his family have been slaughtered and the Hapsburgs have lost control of their territories and ceased to reign. Completing this `End Game' is the abdication of the Kaiser after America enters the was and the spring offensive fails to break through the trenches. As the Allies start to advance across France, Wilhelm orders Ludendorff and Von Hindenburg to stand and fight. But they convince him that a rearguard action would bring the nation to its knees and spark revolution. Therefore, Wilhelm accepts their verdict and on 9 November 1918, he crossed the border into the Netherlands as a private citizen.

Narrated with calm authority by Michael Holden, this exceptional series not only captures something of the personality of the principal players in ending the old order, but it also treats complex ideas with the density and gravity they deserve. Admirable though writer Mark Hayhurst and director Justin Hardy's recent BBC series 37 Days might have been in showing how British Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey (Ian McDiarmid) tried to conduct affairs through gentlemen's agreements, it diluted difficult issues, whereas Fall of Eagles explored them in all their complexity. This says much about the way television has changed in the last four decades, as even the reconstruction of weighty issues has been `dumbed down'. But the difference in tone is even more marked in the silent instructional dramas and pieces of animated propaganda produced between 1914-18 and gathered together by the Imperial War Museum for British Home Front: Public Information Films of World War I.

Produced in The Battle of the Somme is regarded as one of the most important British films ever released, as it alerted audiences back home to the extent of the carnage occurring on the Western Front. Recorded by official British cinematographers Geoffrey Malins and John McDowell, this is one of the first instances of moving images being used for propaganda purposes. Some of the footage was filmed before hostilities commenced on 1 July 1916 - when 19,000 British personnel lost their lives - but there was nothing fake about the images of a mine exploding beneath the Hawthorn Ridge Redoubt or the heroism shown while advancing by members of the 1st Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers of the British 29th Division. As the Cinema News Journal reported: `There is no make-believe. This is the real thing. This is war, rich with death.'

Initially, the footage was destined for newsreel release, but the British Topical Committee for War Films suggested it would make more impact as a feature and Malins and screen pioneer Charles Urban were entrusted with editing it down to five reels by producer William F. Jury. However, it is widely believed that the War Office intervened to have some of the more graphic episodes removed, in case they had a deleterious effect on the morale of both the public and potential conscripts. Running just over an hour, the film premiered at the Scala Theatre in London on 10 August 1916 and was later shown privately to the Royal Family before being exported to 18 countries.

Although lacking the terrifying sounds of combat, The Battle of the Somme not only provided audiences with an authentic impression of trench warfare, but also inspired considerable pride in the Tommies doing their bit for their country. Despite protests by the likes of the Bishop of Durham, who considered it immoral to make entertainment from the suffering of soldiers and the bereavement of their families, over 20 million tickets were bought by patriotic Britons in the two months after its release. However, the coming of sound led to this landmark picture being forgotten and it was only after it had been added to UNESCO's Memory of the World Register that the Imperial War Museum backed an extensive restoration that was premiered to coincide with the 90th anniversary of the 1918 Armistice.

Just about every image leaves an indelible impression - whether it's the overloaded troops jauntily heading for their battle stations, the sight of corpses piled on the trench floors, a German POW being shoulder-barged out of the way by an angry Tommy or the blank expressions of those who had just witnessed hell on earth. This should be compulsory viewing, if only to fulfil UNESCO's remit of guarding against `collective amnesia'.

British cinema was slower to develop than many continental industries, but it was still capable of producing pictures like Maurice Elvey's The Life Story of David Lloyd George.(1918) and Walter Summers's The Battle of Ypres (1925). The former was long believed to be lost. But, in 1994, a complete negative was found among the materials donated to the nation by Viscount Tenby. As the grandson of the former Prime Minister, Tenby was more than happy for John Reed and his team at the National Screen and Sound Archive of Wales to restore the print, which finally received its premiere in 1996. Yet rather than heralding the long overdue arrival of the most ambitious picture to have been produced in this country prior to David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia (1962), the British film establishment chose virtually en masse to spurn it and it has lain in undeserved obscurity ever since.

Structurally, this is pretty conservative, with the Childhood (1863-70) segment opening with shots of David Lloyd George's parents, birth certificate and the house in a Manchester backstreet in which he was born. However, the family moved soon afterwards to a farm in Bulford in Pembrokeshire, only for the infant's teacher father, William George, to pass away when he was just 18 months old. His mother Elizabeth took David and his siblings, William and Ellen, to live with her cobbler brother, Richard Lloyd, in his cottage in Llanystumdwy, near Criccieth in Caernarfonshire. However, the boy managed his first revolt against authority when he tried to stop a neighbour from taking away a chair when Elizabeth was forced to auction off their meagre belongings and his attempt to jam the gate with a stone and knock off the man's hat suggest a feisty character with a penchant for the underdog.

Yet, while they could only afford half a boiled egg each on Sundays for the boys (while Ellen had to make do with a dipped soldier), the family was not as poor as Lloyd George liked to make out. Indeed, Lloyd played a prominent role in local religious and political life and he was encouraged by teacher David Evans, whose vivid Scripture lessons fired the boy's imagination and also seemingly Elvey's, as he borrows from DW Griffith's 1916 epic, Intolerance, to show Moses resisting Egyptian tyranny in a blue-tinted illumination that contrasts with shots of German soldiers herding Belgian women following the invasion of 1914. But, while Evans hoped that a great leader might one day emerge from his class, he was appalled when Lloyd George refused to recite the catechism for a clergyman visiting on behalf of the National Anglican School board, as he attended the nonconformist Chapel of the Disciples of Christ, where Lloyd sometimes preached.

This willingness to stand up for his principles attracted the attention of Maggie Owen from Mynydd Ednyfed, who also listened intently, as young David spoke his mind at the meeting in Llanystumdwy smithy of the local debating society. However, he was still a boy in 1870 when the Franco-Prussian War divided the continent and David and his pals rewrote history by having Napoleon III's forces triumph over those of Prussian chancellor Otto von Bismarck (after who a neighbour had named their pesky dog). This game on the North Welsh hills brings to mind the story of David and Goliath and Elvey depicts the former's conquest of his bullying opponent and uses superimposition to contract David with the adult Lloyd George and Goliath with Kaiser Wilhelm II. Considering the might of the British Empire at the time, this is a rather fanciful comparison, but it demonstrated Elvey's visual imagination and his potency as a myth-maker, as he ends this part of the film with a quotation from Lloyd George about his pride in his roots and in being able to help his own people. 

According to the captions in the Youth (1870-90) chapter, the newly baptised Lloyd George took his first step towards manhood when he decided to become a solicitor and Lloyd taught himself Latin and French to help his nephew with his studies. He was articled as a junior clerk to the firm of Breese, Jones and Casson in Portmadoc and spent much of his spare time wandering the hills sporting a Tam o' Shanter cap and reading the complete works of William Shakespeare. Around this time, the family moved into Morvin House in Criccieth and Lloyd George began to write articles for the local paper under the pseudonym `Brutus' and finds his trenchant brand of oratory much in demand at public meetings. But, even more significantly, he visited the House of Commons while in London for his final legal exam and, that night, wrote in his diary of his ambition to become a politician after watching William Ewart Gladstone and Lord Randolph Churchill jousting at the Dispatch Box during a debate on the 1884 Franchise Bill.

Having passed his exam, Lloyd George starts practicing law at Morvin House and marries Maggie at Pencaenwydd Chapel on 24 January 1888. Soon afterwards, he made his name when he advised some quarrymen from Llanfrothen to break down the gate after the rector refused to allow a nonconformist colleague to be buried in his churchyard and the judge overturned the jury verdict in agreeing with Lloyd George that they had been discriminated on account of their religion. This success enabled him to open a second office in Festiniog and he causes a minor stir at the nearby chapel when he reads the lesson but declines the invitation to lead the prayer, as he feels unworthy of the honour.

On the advice of Irish leader Michael Davitt, Lloyd George decides to devote his life to politics and is chosen as the Liberal candidate for Caernarfon in the 1890 by-election. The party agent dispatched to support Conservative hopeful Ellis Nanney (a magistrate from Llanystumdwy) was so impressed by Lloyd George's performance on the hustings that he predicted a heavy defeat. In the end, he won with a majority of just 18 (1963 to 1945) and took his seat on Budget Day, where he was welcomed by the Speaker after taking his oath of allegiance. His maiden speech came on 13 June 1890 when he raised the questions of Welsh education and temperance reform and caught the attention of his fellow MPs by making amusing attacks on Lord Randolph Churchill and Joseph Chamberlain.

Liberal bigwig John Morley predicted great things for the newcomer after seeing him address a meeting in Lancashire. But he didn't always court popularity, as Elvey shows when a visit to a rowdy South Wales pub convinced him of the need to regulate opening hours. This was some way in the future, but he showed during the 1892 General Election campaign how to deal with a drunken heckler and such wit led to his majority increasingly significantly and Lloyd George was treated to a torchlight procession through the streets to mark his victory. His crusades against landlordism and clericalism won him further support. But, on 22 May 1896, he was suspended for a week after incurring the wrath of the Speaker for refusing to vacate the Chamber during the reading of the Agricultural Ratings Bill.

Such intransigence only raised his profile further, as did the ability to take a joke against himself, as he did during a meeting on the Disestablishment of the Church of Wales when he was compared to a mendacious bishop. But his opposition to the Boer War led to Lloyd George being vilified during the 1900 election and there was even a debate among his local activists about whether he was a suitable candidate. In a spectacular sequence that required 10,000 extras, Elvey recreated the riot at Birmingham Town Hall on 18 December when an attempt was made to storm the platform and Lloyd George had to be smuggled out of the building disguised as a policeman. Yet, when he returned to the venue in 1906, he was accorded a warm reception and raised a smile by referring to his previous visit.

By this period, he had become renowned as a social reformer, having been backed by former miner William Abraham in helping force through the 1902 Education Act. Consequently, when the Liberals won a landslide in December 1905, Prime Minister Henry Campbell-Bannerman made him President of the Board of Trade and he quickly made his mark with the Merchant Shipping Act that improved the living conditions and rations of the sailors keeping Britain's ports busy. He also won plaudits for insisting on a public inquiry into the 1907 Shrewsbury rail disaster that claimed 20 lives. As a result, when Herbert Asquith moved into 10 Downing Street in 1908, he was promoted to Chancellor of the Exchequer and changed the nation's attitude to the elderly by passing the Old Age Pensions Act on 28 May 1908 and Elvey marks the occasion with a wonderful shot symbolising the liberation of the aged from the curse of the workhouse by showing dozens of senior citizens appear to walk through the sinister curving wall of just such a forbidding institution and gathering excitedly each Friday to collect the money that enabled them to live with dignity.

Busy though he was, Lloyd George remained a devoted family man and he is shown teasing 16 year-old daughter Olwen that he is planning a bill to reduce the length of school holidays before he accompanies her to the park to see some pelicans being fed. And his determination to ensure everyone was entitled to similar domestic bliss, he introduced the People's Budget on 29 April 1909 and spoke for five hours to explain how new taxes would be levied so that fathers living in squalor would not risk jail in order to steal bread to feed their broods and the opposition leader Arthur Balfour poured him some water and even suggested an adjournment so he could continue to make his epochal speech. The following day, Lloyd George bogeyed the first hole at Walton Heath golf course, but he was back in the Commons on 4 May 1911 to reveal how National Insurance would enable sick workers to be cared for and paid on the presentation of a doctor's note (which Elvey brilliantly illustrates by showing a wife not having to pawn her wedding ring or the china when her husband falls ill).

Such parliamentary heroics made Lloyd George a target of the Suffragettes and militant members are seen attacking his vehicle when he arrives for a speaking engagement. The incident is presented in a slightly chauvinist manner and there is something patronising about the caption that proclaims that the Suffragettes did eventually do their bit during the war alongside ordinary women. But it was Lloyd George who steered through the Franchise Act of 1917, which gave the vote to over six million women.

Back in 1911, the Agadir crisis almost tipped the continent into war and the Kaiser is shown brooding over a map with his generals as Lloyd George delivers a speech at the Mansion House, in which he states that he will always strive for peace, but would never accept terms that disadvantaged or dishonoured the Empire. However, while he was fishing back in his beloved Wales, `the Red Dawn of the Great Crusade' descended in August 1914 and, as Wilhelm appears through a red-tinted mist, we see German troops marching through the ruins of a Belgian town and Lloyd George leaps into action to convince business leaders to temporarily close the Stock Exchange, limit the issuing of paper currency and raise the bank rate.

No sooner has he prevented a fiscal panic than Lloyd George rallies the nation during his Queen's Hall speech on 19 September, which is cross-cut with the provocative images of troops beating Belgian children who dared mock them by goose-stepping through the rubble of their town. He predicts a long and terrible war, but avers that Britain shall `march through terror to triumph' and starts to turn the tide by summoning manufacturers and ordering them to convert their premises to produce shells and weapons for the duration of the conflict. In May 1915, he is appointed Minister of Munitions and sets up an office in 6 Whitehall Court with Dr Addison and Frances Stevenson, the secretary who would become his second wife in 1943 and there is just the merest hint of flirtation between them (as they had been lovers since 1912) before he dresses down the owner of a gramophone factory and paints an awful picture of industrial malaise if victory is not secured.

Demonstrating tireless energy, Lloyd George visits a button workshop that is now churning out shells and a lengthy sequence follows as he tours facilities by car to keep up his hectic schedule and meets a 74 year-old Australian who paid his own passage to come and do his bit. Considering this was filmed as the outcome of the war was still by no means certain and no one had presented workplaces in such documentary-like detail, this should be one of the most famous scenes in British screen history, as it predates Flaherty and Grierson by several years. By contrast, however, the battle footage is nowhere near as impressive as that choreographed by Geoffrey Malins and John McDowell for The Battle of the Somme (1916). Yet, if going over the top is stripped of its hellish reality and the Huns are captured a mite too easily, Elvey ably conveys the enthusiasm with which Lloyd George was greeted when he visited French counterpart Albert Thomas and took a march past of veterans from The Somme and Verdun.

As he addresses a mess dinner in the citadel at Verdun, we see Britannia and Marianne standing proud in No Man's Land, with the wind billowing their gowns and the flags they bear with patriotic defiance. His words go down equally well at a public meeting back in Blighty, where he says he has always stuck up for the oppressed and, on 6 May 1916, he calls for more men to volunteer to serve their country and a disconcerting dissolve shows civilians suddenly dressed in khaki and we learn of a French youth who wrote that he was glad he was born in 1897 as it means he is old enough to fight in 1917.

Such inspirational leadership led to Lloyd George being appointed Minister of War when Lord Kitchener died and he joins `Tiger' Clemenceau in more morale-boosting recces to the frontline, where they often came under fire. But he insists on hearing first-hand accounts of valorous deeds performed by the allies and infamous crimes perpetrated by the foe. He waves the men off to almost certain doom as `It's a Long Way to Tipperary' weaves its way through Neil Brand's exemplary score. Yet, no sooner has he spoken to Sir Eric Geddes about improving the rail network to speed troops and supplies to our ports than Lloyd George is asked to take over from Asquith in December 1916 (no explanation is given - this is a staunchly apolitical film throughout) and he treasures a letter from a widow urging him to make the sacrifice of her son worthwhile and a cable from Australian Prime Minister Billy Hughes, who started out as a miner in Wales. .

In a touching scene, Lloyd George enters the Cabinet Room and the spirits of past Prime Ministers appear to look him over, with Campbell-Bannerman, Gladstone and Disraeli returning as though to give him their seal of approval. On 19 December, he gives his first speech in the Commons as leader and acknowledges the terrible responsibility he bears, as Britain is fighting the most awful war humanity has ever known and he quotes Abraham Lincoln (who is show in inset) on the rectitude of the cause. A caption explains how Lloyd George concentrated the executive in very few hands, chose men with administrative and commercial experience to hold the great offices of state (for example, engineer George Barnes took over at Pensions) and offered the workforce a fuller and franker partnership in the governance of the country. He also gave imperial statesmen a key role to play and even met a deputation of women's organisations on 29 March 1917 and praised their contribution running NAAFIs and serving as nurses in field hospitals and with ambulance crews at the front.

On 6 April 1917, Woodrow Wilson brings the United States into the war and he is flatteringly compared to George Washington and Lincoln as a great wartime leader. Lloyd George welcomed the intervention at the Savoy Hotel on 12 April before following a short break in Wales with a trip to Italy, where his status as `the Prime Minister of Europe' is confirmed.  On returning from Rapallo, he visits French War Minister Paul Painlevé on 13 November and, in his celebrated Paris speech, says that resources need to be better managed if victory is to be claimed. Elvey cuts away to Anglo-French troops binding Germans in a rope by pulling in the right directions and this leads to a unified command in 1918. The big push followed and a caption calls Lloyd George `The Champion of Civilisation' as it reveals that he was given the freedom of London, Cardiff, Swansea, Newport, Glasgow and Edinburgh for his conduct of the war.

A lengthy extract from a speech on 5 August 1918 states that Britain has fought not from selfish motives, but to uphold right against might and he urges a redoubling of efforts as the future of mankind is at stake. He warns that a bad peace would be calamitous (ironically, he helped broker just such an over-vindictive treaty at Versailles in 1919) before being greeted as a hero as his car drives through crowded streets of cheering men, women and children. He stands by the fire in Downing Street and looks at the camera, imagining ranks of men marching into formation on a parade ground for the final time before being demobbed (another dissolve, this time back into civvies) and reunited with their loved ones. A weeping widow is consoled and made to feel part of the victory and as he looks directly at the viewer once more, Lloyd George says we need to be better prepared in future. But our greatest goal is to make sure there is never a next time.

Sadly, two decades after the peace conference left the Hall of Mirrors, the lights went out all over Europe for the second time in a generation. Nobody could have known this in 1918, when Elvey and historian Sir Sidney Low were preparing their scenario. But, just as unlikely was the fact that Horatio Bottomley, the rapidly xenophobic editor of the periodical John Bull, would whip up an anti-Semitic frenzy that led the film to be suppressed because he had reached the unmotivated conclusion that Ideal Film producers Simon and Harry Rowson were pro-German Jews who had changed their name from Rosenbaum because they had something hide rather than because they were following example of the Royal Family of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. The brothers sued for defamation and won. But the government still opted to reimburse them with twenty £1000 notes for the cost of the negative and place it under lock and key for some 80 years. It has been suggested that the social reform content might have fanned the flames of post-revolutionary Bolshevism in Scottish shipyards. But it is just as likely that it was withheld because Frances Stevenson detested actor Norman Page's performance.

This seems more than a little harsh, as he bears a decent physical resemblance to Lloyd George and ably captures his dynamism and iconoclasm. Alma Reville, who would later marry Alfred Hitchcock, has less to do as Maggie Owen, while records do not seem to have survived to help historians identify the other key players or, for that matter, the principal craftsmen. But it is readily evident that this must have required an exceptional effort in a time of limited resources and military and diplomatic uncertainty. What is more, British cinema attempted nothing like it until well into the sound era and it is noticeable that no such similar film was made about Winston Churchill during the Second World War.

There is no escaping the fact the action frequently lurches into hagiography and Elvey relies heavily on captions to convey the extraordinary amount of private and professional detail. But, for sheer scale and ambition, this surpassed both the Italian superspectacles of the early 1910s and DW Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915) and Intolerance (1916). Thus, it's tempting to speculate how this picture might have changed both British cinema and the fortunes of the scandalously underrated Maurice Elvey (who became a Quota Quickie merchant) had it not fallen victim to prejudice and pusillanimity. He proves on several occasions to have been a pictorialist of rare vision and it speaks volumes for him that he never bemoaned his ill-fortune. Those in the upper echelons of the UK film establishment should hang their heads in shame, however, for not recognising the merit of this masterwork either on its rediscovery or since. No wonder we have made such little impression on the Seventh Art down the years.

It's impossible to watch Walter Summers's reconstruction of events on the Ypres Salient between October 1914 and October 1917 without acknowledging the sincerity of the film-makers and without experiencing a numbing sense of regret that so many had to die so horrifically and so needlessly over a small strip of Belgian territory that became something of a bellwether as to the progress of the Great War.

Heavily reliant on intertitles, this is a fascinating mix of historical overview and celebration of individual acts of courage. The initial action centres on the advance of the Kaiser's army and the march of the British Expeditionary Force to counter it. Intriguing footage shows cavalry units preparing for one of their last frontline encounters and troops marching past the Cloth Hall that would soon be reduced to a shell by mortar fire.

The First Battle of Ypres commenced on 19 October and Summers stages scenes of the night fighting that caused Gheluvelt to be lost. He also refers to the senseless slaughter of the Royal Scots Fusiliers (who were mown down after refusing to leave their trench without orders) and the heroism of Brigadier General Charles FitzClarence - a Victoria Cross holder who perished leading a counter-attack by the 2nd Worcestershires - and Padre EJ Kennedy, who went unrewarded for galloping across the infamous Hill 60 to deliver a crucial message to prevent a convoy of ambulances from driving into danger.

The rearguard mounted by a Queen's College theology student, Second Lieutenant Geoffrey Woolley, is also cited, as he became the first Territorial officer to earn the Victoria Cross in holding Hill 60 against repeated attacks in April 1915. Woolley went on to become the chaplain at Harrow School. But fellow VC, Lance Corporal Fred Fisher, lost his life defending a Canadian weapons cache shortly afterwards.

This roll of honour approach continues with mentions to Captain Francis Scrimger of the Canadian Medical Service (who carried a wounded man on his back across No Man's Land), Private John Lynn (who was gassed at his machine-gun post) and Flight Sub-Lieutenant RA Warneford (who destroyed a Zeppelin). But Summers also stages combat sequences to emphasise the dangers posed by snipers and grenades, the exposure of going over the top and the relentlessness of the artillery peppering men staggering valiantly across terrain pocked with craters and awash with mud.

However, he also digresses to show the lighter side of life on the Western Front as soldiers relax at Poperinghe, the so-called `Hostess of the Salient'. In addition to offering such amenities as shops, a barber and a cinema, the town was also the site of Toc H, a saloon bar-cum-gentleman's club, where chaps could let off steam over a pint, a piano and a pillow fight. They could also read mail from Blighty and Summers shows how much a letter from home could mean to men desperate to escape the grim reality of their surroundings for just a few hand-scribbled lines.

This coda is merely the prelude, however, to a concluding segment on the pitiless Battle of Passchendaele, which erupted at 3am on 7 June 1917 and continued in torrential rain that turned already risky sorties into suicide missions. Summers pays tribute to Lance Sergeant John Moyney and Private Thomas Woodcock of the Irish Guards, who each received the Cross of Valour for holding the line for 96 hours at Broenbeek. He also commemorates the resilience of three VC winners: South African-born, Ireland-raised Captain Clement Robertson, Australian Lance Corporal Walter Peeler and Canadian Lieutenant Robert Shankland, who respectively led a tank assault on foot, single-handedly took a German pill-box and left Passchendaele Ridge to fetch reinforcements and then held Bellevue Spur with his platoon.

Yet Summers never glorifies warfare or diminishes its horrors. Admittedly, some of the re-enactments lack the pyrotechnic heft to do more than hint at the ferocity of the conflict. But contemporary audiences were suitably impressed, albeit never in the same numbers that had greeted producer Walter F. Jury's The Battle of the Somme and The Battle of the Ancre and the Advance of the Tanks (1917), which combined mock and actual footage filmed by Geoffrey Malins and John McDowell. Seen today, Ypres is short on cinematic sophistication. But, sometimes, compelling content simply has to take precedence.

The contrast between the films made while the war's wounds were still fresh and those made a century on is striking. Indeed, today's young men and women would struggle to recognise their own country. But director Pat O'Connor and screenwriter Simon Reade strive to bridge the gap in their careful, but lacklustre adaptation of Michael Morpurgo's bestselling children's fiction, Private Peaceful. Covering several of the themes tackled by Steven Spielberg in his bigger budget take on the same author's War Horse, this is supposed to be a family film. But intellectually curious kids could find useful material for school projects in this earnest study of rural poverty in the 1910s and the living hell of the Western Front..

The action opens in an army jail somewhere in France in 1916, as Tommo Peaceful (George MacKay) thinks back on the events that led to his court-martial. Eight years earlier, he had been living happily in a tied cottage in the Devon countryside with his parents Joe (Kyle Summercorn) and Hazel (Maxine Peake) and his older brothers Jimmy (Frasier Huckle) and Charlie (Hero Fiennes-Tiffin). Joe was a forester on the estate of The Colonel (Richard Griffiths) and his wife (Anna Carteret), whose constant state of ill-health encouraged postmistress Grandma Wolf (Frances de la Tour) to entertain hopes of one day becoming the lady of the manor.

However, everything changes when Joe is crushed by a falling tree while trying to save Tommo and Hazel is forced to accept the post of personal maid at the big house so that the family can keep their home. Soon afterwards, Charlie and Tommo decide to quit school and work for the Colonel to make ends meet, while Grandma Wolf keeps an eye on the slow-witted Jimmy (Stephen Kennedy). But a welcome distraction from the daily grind comes in the form of Molly (Izzy Meikle-Small), the daughter of new gamekeeper Mr Monks (Michael Gould), who sneaks off to see the siblings and swim in the nearby river in spite of her father's dire threats.

Increasingly arrogant after inheriting his wife's fortune, the Colonel fires the Peaceful boys after they have the temerity to save a condemned hunting hound and they are grateful to be hired by Farmer Cox (Keith Bartlett), who treats them fairly while working them hard. However, while the now-teenage Tommo (George MacKay) nurses a secret crush on Molly (Alexandra Roach), Charlie (Jack O'Connell) acts upon his lust for her and she falls pregnant.  Distraught at the dual betrayal, Tommo attends their wedding with little enthusiasm and, when war breaks out, he lies about his age to a recruiting sergeant (Anthony Flanagan) and finds himself in the trenches under the baleful eye of Sergeant Hanley (John Lynch).

Unwilling to stay at home and play dutiful husband while his pals are having an adventure overseas, Charlie also joins up. But he is less willing to tolerate Hanley's bullying and leads his mates to the nearby village for a night's carousing that sees Tommo fall for the innkeeper's daughter, Anne (Eline Powell). He is left to his own devices, however, when Charlie is wounded and sent back to Blighty. Thus, when Anna is killed by some stray shrapnel, Tommo is close to despair and is hugely relieved when Charlie ignores Molly's pleas and returns to duty in time to protect him in a foxhole after he is shell-shocked during an advance across No Man's Land.

This decision to place family above a battlefield order gives Hanley the opportunity he has been waiting for and both privates are charged with insubordination and cowardice in the face of the enemy. Appeals for clemency are made to General Douglas Haig (David Yelland) at headquarters safely distant from the enemy. But one Peaceful had to be made to pay the ultimate price and the story ends with Tommo arriving home to make good on his promise to look after Molly and his toddler nephew.

Played with admirable sincerity by a notable ensemble, this is well-meaning effort to teach younger viewers about the social conditions that existed on the eve of the Great War and the toll that the conflict took on an already put-upon populace. Ably abetted by production designer Adrian Smith and cinematographer Jerzy Zielinski, O'Connor invokes a Hardyesque idyll in the initial sequences before slowly starting to expose the consequences of class division and the first rumblings of proletarian protest. However, Simon Reade's politicised sloganising sounds decidedly clumsy and, with Rachel Portman's insistent score constantly manipulating audience emotions, the overall tone lurches disconcertingly between Ripping Yarns, The Monocled Mutineer, Downton Abbey and the latter incarnation of Upstairs Downstairs.

The depiction of the villains is particularly awkward, with both Richard Griffiths and John Lynch seeming to have been encouraged to exaggerate caricatured mannerisms, while Frances de la Tour's gold-digger resembles a minor character from a forgotten Dickens novel. By contrast, the principal juveniles frequently feel distractingly anachronistic, with O'Connell's laddish belligerence sitting uncomfortably alongside Roach's simpering flirt and MacKay's sulky self-pity. Thus, impeccable though the intentions might be, this potentially harrowing saga is consistently undermined by mawkish melodramatics.