PATHS OF GLORY

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

There is no anti-war film like this one. Paths of Glory leaves you angry and bitter. This is a story about a war of inches, a military caste system in which the soldiers are on the bottom of the totem pole, and a debacle solved with a travesty. This is one of Stanley Kubrick's finest films, primarily because he is driven by anger and a desire to let the audience know just what war is and can be if those who drive it are behind a desk.

Paths of Glory has three main acts. The first is the battle. The film is set in the trenches of World War I, where battles last for years with virtually no movement on either side. Countless casualties have wiped out much of the forces from Germany and France. Morale is low, humanity is nearing non-existence, and hope is all but forgotten. The two sides are similarly equipped and manned, and trench warfare has reached a dangerous stalemate.

Two leading French officers are discussing a new attack. One is Corps Commander General Broulard (Adolphe Menjou), a conniving, stubborn, unforgiving officer who is clearly more interested in prestige than in France's welfare. The other is General Mireau (George Macready), an easily persuaded, often misguided subordinate. In one of Kubrick's more masterful sequences, Broulard slyly convinces Mireau to encourage an attack on the 'Ant Hill', a fortified German stronghold along the trenches, a tactical "king of the hill".

Mireau is, at first, extremely skeptical -- aware that the attack would be a suicide mission for his troops. However, Broulard provides subtle compliments, patriotic verbiage, and a potential promotion. Consider how his words change. From "The life of one of those soldiers means more to me than all the stars and decorations and honors in France" to "Nothing is beyond those men once their fighting spirit is aroused...We might just do it!"

After Mireau is convinced to attack, he joins his forces along the trenches. Kubrick employs stunning, long-track shots of the trench. Dead bodies are scattered throughout. Random explosions contribute to a dizzying din of petrified soldiers haunted by the silent-explosive interludes. Mireau interviews a soldier here and there. He orders one away because he may "contaminate" the men with his cowardice (which is actually "shell shock"). A clever viewer will note that Mireau is actually interviewing the three soldiers who will be at the forefront of the latter half of the film.

Mireau then meets Colonel Dax (Kirk Douglas), the leader of the regiment. Mireau informs Dax of the planned assault on Ant Hill, to which Dax is incredulous. "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel." Dax is, of course, thoroughly aware this is a suicide mission. After bombarding Mireau with resistance, Mireau uses Broulard's techniques of persuasion. Dax, however, is not so quick to jump on board. He stands by his position, but also realizes he has no choice. He must choose between dismissal and being with his men. He decides the latter for the sake of his men.

The attack commences, and the scene is a stunning piece of filmmaking. Kubrick provides laser-sharp imagery of shells, bombs, explosions, the mines and wires of no-man's-land, the haunting stares of soldiers crawling through fields of death. For 1957, this footage is simply extraordinary. Today, it stands up amazingly well. Films such as Saving Private Ryan, Flags of Our Fathers, and Platoon have this film to thank for its remarkable clarity and brutality of battle scenes.

As expected, the battle does not go well. The French soldiers are forced back, taking heavy losses. Mireau is embarrassed at the colossal defeat and soon orders a subordinate to begin opening fire on his own men for their "cowardice". The subordinate refuses, but Mireau does not take the defeat well. "If those little sweethearts won't face German bullets, they'll face French ones!" Mireau plans a court-martial, hoping to execute a number of soldiers for their "cowardice".

Mireau wants a high count, up to one hundred officers. Dax is summoned for a discussion with Broulard and Mireau. The number is eventually reduced to three, but Dax thinks the whole court-martial is a sickening use of power and denial. After Mireau agrees to the number, Broulard gives him control over the proceedings, cunningly staying away from the whole affair.

This leads to part two of the film, the court-martial. The three soldiers chosen, not entirely randomly, are Private Ferol (Timothy Carey), Corporal Paris (Ralph Meeker), and Private Arnaud (Joseph Turkel). All of their performances are exceptional, very convincing in their unique portrayals of men who know their lives are likely to end as a result of this court-martial. Douglas lets us know that Dax feels it, too. His preparatory scenes with the three men are tinged with dread. His advice is simple. Stick to the stories, leave the accusations of other soldiers' ill-doings out, and behave as perfect soldiers.

The court-martial is shown in bitter, matter-of-fact detail. The scenes are short but filled with content. Kubrick is masterfully concise here, making the impact of the testimony and the "stacked cards" feel of the proceedings all the more powerful. Closing arguments nicely convey the two sides in smart dialogue. The prosecutor suggests: "And I submit that attack was a stain on the flag of France, a blot on the honor of every man, woman, and child in the French nation. It is to us that the sad, distressing, repellent duty falls, gentlemen. I ask this court to find the accused guilty." But Dax counteracts:

There are times when I am ashamed to be a member of the human race and this is one such occasion...I protest against being prevented from introducing evidence that I consider vital to the defense, the prosecution presented no witnesses, there has never been a written indictment of charges made against the defendants, and lastly, I protest against the fact that no stenographic record of this trial has been kept. The attack yesterday morning was no stain on the honor of France, but this court-martial is such a stain...Gentlemen of the court, to find these men guilty will be a crime to haunt each of you to the day you die. I can't believe that the noblest impulse in man, his compassion for another, can be completely dead here. Therefore, I humbly beg you to show mercy to these men.

The ruling is, of course, for the execution of the three men. The final act of the film is the execution. The night preceding the execution, the three are kept in enclosed quarters. A priest visits for any counsel he can offer. Arnaud is not willing to hear any of it. He is drinking heavily and begins pushing around the priest and the other two soldiers. Paris strikes him hard; Arnaud is now unconscious and may not survive before the firing squad the next morning. A doctor explains that he may need to be awakened before the execution because the general "wants him to be conscious".

The "ceremony" leading up to the firing squad is shot by Kubrick with a snarling precision. The military scene is full of "in-cadence" marching, percussive instrumentation, and hard faces. The three soldiers, meanwhile, are the only ones who look human. They are shot with a coldness and unity that is at once amazingly precise and profoundly sarcastic. Kubrick's hatred for this travesty is palpable. The scene is cold and calculated, miserable and haunting. No anti-war film since has shown such a powerful display of disgustedness.

Broulard, Mireau, and Dax meet again. Dax, in a last-minute attempt to save the lives of his soldiers the previous evening, presented Broulard with evidence that Mireau wanted to fire on his own men after the failed attack. Broulard coldly denied the verdict's overturning, but confronts Mireau after the execution. "There'll have to be an inquiry," he says. Mireau realizes too late that he is the fourth victim of the court-martial. He exits the room with shame and indignation.

Broulard then congratulates Dax on his rise to power and offers him the promotion. Dax categorically dismisses the promotion:

I apologize for not being entirely honest with you. I apologize for not revealing my true feelings. I apologize, sir, for not telling you sooner that you're a degenerate, sadistic old man. AND YOU CAN GO TO HELL BEFORE I APOLOGIZE TO YOU NOW OR EVER AGAIN.

Kirk Douglas performs like he never has before or since. All of his emotion goes here, in this scene, with such a ferocity that it will knock you off your chairs the first time you see it. It is quite a remarkable piece of acting.

The last scene is a startling reminder of humanity. A frightened German woman is in a bar of French soldiers and is asked to sing a song. She does so with a beauty and grace that silences the taunts, even the talking, of the soldiers in Dax's regiment. Some soldiers begin to cry; others are stricken with grief. They all see again what they are fighting for. All they want is peace, to return to a world driven by the preservation of humanity. The soldiers, even through years of inhumane conditions and conflict, are the only ones seen to have humanity. This is Kubrick's twist of the knife. The generals behind the desks may have done all they could have to prevent the world from seeing the haunting truth and despicable motives of war, but the soldiers -- all they wanted was peace.

Ed. Note: Quotes provided by Tim Dirks.