Landesverräter is a Swiss-German historical drama directed by Michael Krummenacher, written by Krummenacher together with Silvia Wolkan. The film is based on true events from World War II and centers on the tragic case of Ernst Schrämli, a young man from a poor background in rural Switzerland, who becomes embroiled in espionage and betrayal under the guise of fulfilling his dreams.

Ernst Schrämli is portrayed as a dreamer, vulnerable and somewhat naive, longing for a life greater than his provincial circumstances allow. He nurtures the ambition of becoming a celebrated singer in Germany. In his hopes of achieving that dream, he is led into contact with a German spy agent, August Schmid, who manipulates him. Schrämli, believing in promises of opportunity — a visa, recognition, fame — begins delivering military information: sketches of bunkers, maps, even ammunition and artillery grenades.

As the film progresses, it becomes evident that Schrämli’s actions, however misguided, are more driven by his personal aspirations and desperation than by ideological conviction. His guardian, Roman Graf, and others attempt to warn him, but Schrämli remains caught between his fantasies and the cold reality of wartime politics. When his betrayal is uncovered, he is arrested, tried, and—most significantly—sentenced to death. He becomes the first Swiss individual executed for espionage and treason within the context of those wartime laws.

The narrative of Landesverräter is not only a courtroom or spy thriller; it’s an exploration of morality, the meaning of neutrality, and the vulnerability of individuals under political and ideological pressure. Switzerland, officially neutral during WWII, is shown in a complex light: its laws, its military justice system, its fears and uncertainties. Schrämli’s fate becomes symbolic of how the state, in its attempt to preserve neutrality and security, is capable of harsh judgments even toward its own citizens, especially those who stray into morally gray zones.

The characters around Ernst deepen the emotional texture of the story. His lover, Gerti Zanelli, adds emotional conflict; his guardian represents a moral voice; the spy underscores the exploitative power structures at play. Through performances, the film builds sympathy for Schrämli—even as viewers realize that what he did, no matter how driven by dreams, had real consequences.

Visually, Landesverräter uses period-authentic settings: small towns, military camps, interrogation rooms, wartime uniforms and atmosphere. The tone is often somber, weighed by guilt, regret, and suspended possibility. There are moments of light — Schrämli’s fantasy of singing, his hopes, simple human relationships — but the looming presence of war shadows everything.

Ultimately, Landesverräter poses hard questions: What does a person owe their country? What is the cost when one’s dreams collide with harsh political realities? And how does a neutral nation define betrayal? The film is a meditation on loyalty, the fragility of trust under pressure, and the tragic cost when idealism meets a world unkind to wishes. It’s a story that haunts, not just for its historical outcome, but for the human vulnerability at its center — a young man’s dream, twisted by others, broken by laws meant to protect a nation’s integrity.