It happened. The details are spotty, pieced together from letters, diaries, and rumors; and it's hard to believe it occurred, or ever would again, a curious nook of history not particularly done justice in the new film Joyeux Noel. But it did happen - in 1914, early into World War I on the Belgian-French border, with snow on the ground and Christmas Eve on the soldiers' minds.

A truce was called.

For Christmas. Not officially, between warring nations and generals. It was brokered by the troops themselves, wedged into their foxholes often only a few yards from hundreds of enemy soldiers. A German company put up Christmas trees along its ramparts. They sang "Silent Night." British troops, stationed across No Man's Land, joined in.

Soon soldiers exchanged rations and family pictures. The truce had spread along the front. In some parts, this impromptu peace lasted days. Soccer matches were organized. Men relaxed.

Then the moment passed and everyone went back to killing each other. Furious leaders on both sides ensured it would never happen again; for the following Christmas, 1915, intense mortar shelling was scheduled.

The problem with Christian Carion's Joyeux Noel - an Oscar nominee this year for best foreign-language picture (and yes, it means "Merry Christmas") - is not its antiwar message or lesson that it's easier to fight others when you don't know who they are. It's that Carion is stuck with two-thirds of a well-meaning heart-warmer told in lumpy narrative symmetry to play fair by all sides. And a structure that boxy means a lot of redundancy.

Carion doesn't get that the tale is inspirational without his help. Sentiment has a habit of wheedling its way into honest characters and rigorous storytelling.

It comes out of empathy and poignancy, and Carion takes his cues from hopelessly square early '60s Hollywood epics, where you know a dull German tenor (Benno Furmann) and his blah opera-singer lover (Diane Kruger, Helen of Troy) have noble intent because they cut heroic profiles. In a movie this inert, war is a matter of big shots with cigars pushing models across maps. And it may feel that way to the soldiers in the middle of it.

But the asides for romantic liaisons and brotherly love and familial obligations break up the claustrophobia on the front, and this wasn't just a matter of guys tapping their toes and waiting to be sent home. They wanted to stay alive. Which is what makes the truce so startling and daring.

Here it looks scripted, another delay before we get to the real heart of the story - the cruel consequences when the truce ends and word gets to the guys with the cigars calling the shots. It's here Joyeux Noel becomes a film about duty, not to any country but to one's sense of morals.

If this sounds reminiscent of Stanley Kubrick's Paths of Glory with Kirk Douglas, which told a different story but came to similar conclusions, it's a reminder of how much is missing here. The surreal aspects, for one: The underrated 1992 Ethan Hawke movie, A Midnight Clear, based on the novel by William Wharton, transported the truce to World War II and gave it dreamy, tranquil beauty. The inspirational has already been covered, as well; Garth Brooks' "Belleau Wood" is a cornball retelling, and the Royal Guardsman's joyful '60s hit "Snoopy's Christmas" (I still covet my old 45 of it) has the sentiment of the tale nailed.

Without an interesting point of view attached but tons of nobility to go around, it's not hard to be left with the feeling these soldiers stopped shooting at each other because, well, "Silent Night" is such an excellent song.

A quick local note:

Joyeux Noel is the third movie nominated for the foreign-language Oscar that opened in Toledo this year. Encouraging, yes. But there's a reason. When it comes to submitting films - nations submit one potential contender each year - countries tend to remind us they know their audience, and their audience of voters loved Life is Beautiful and Cinema Paradiso.

Sentiment is king.

There were better French films last year. Great ones, in fact; such as The Beat My Heart Skipped and Kings and Queens and Cache. It's too bad the movies that get the biggest push, ironically enough, are the ones that mostly resemble Hollywood.

Contact Christopher Borrelli at: cborrelli@theblade.com

or 419-724-6117.

First Published June 2, 2006, 10:22 a.m.