Paths of Glory (1957), one of the many great films by the iconic
Stanley Kubrick, is somewhat of a lesser-known entry in his filmmography, but
in a way it is as violent as Full Metal
Jacket (1987). Due to its portrayal of the French military it was not shown
in France until 1975, which is unfair since the actions depicted could have
been those of any army that fought in World War I. Wars are generally insane,
but that particular war holds a special place in the pantheon of madness for
employing trench warfare, which effectively turned battlefields into killing
fields for all soldiers.
As it is one of
the few movies to portray historical events in a boldly accurate way, despite
having American actors play French characters, I got to see Paths of Glory in a high school history
class during my last year in Chile in 2002. I had a pretty good teacher who
held an interesting debate after the end credits to see which officer was most
at fault. It is a conversation that could yield a lot of different answers. As
a lighter companion piece I believe history classes should also include
episodes from Blackadder Goes Forth,
which I had started to watch at around the same time, as it covers some of the
same material from the British point of view with the humour of Ben Elton and a
great performance by Rowan Atkinson. Sometimes violence is so absurd the only
way out is laughter.
Kubrick’s film
has no humour as it follows French army commanders and their soldiers whose job
is to defeat German forces by jumping out of the trenches only to be mowed down
my machine guns and artillery. The thing about that concept is that
high-ranking officials like General Broulard (Adolphe Menjou) and his
subordinate General Mireau (George Macready) have the luxury have planning
those kinds of suicidal attacks from behind enemy lines. Broulard wants the
troupes to take over a German position known as the Anthill, which Mireau knows
perfectly well is next to impossible and will result in heavy casualties.
However, the possibility of a promotion makes him reconsider.
The attack goes
pretty much as Mireau had initially predicted, with the French troops suffering
mass casualties and none of them even reaching the Germans. Members of one
company even refuse to leave the trenches, causing Mireau to order his
artillery to fire on his own countrymen. Once the battle is over and the smoke
clears blame is assigned, but not on anyone too high on the totem pole.
Broulard and Mireau choose to court marshal three soldiers from each company
for cowardice as an example to the rest of the troops.
The rest of the
film unfolds as a courtroom drama, with Colonel Dax (Kirk Douglas, who would
later work again with Kubrick on Spartacus)
defending the three men. Having been on the battlefield and known that the
mission was bound to fail, Dax tries to use his experience as a lawyer in
civilian life to spare them a firing squad, but this is a trial for show, not
justice. It is easy for men like Mireau to accuse soldiers of cowardice, but
where was he when they were risking their lives by running straight into enemy
fire?
There are many
devastating scenes in the movie, from a German singer performing for the troops
before they are to head back to the slaughter, to Mireau walking among them
before battle and asking each soldier if they are “ready to kill more Germans”
as though he was a coach asking players if they are eager to get back on the
field. When one talks about how scared he is Mireau has him removed from the
regiment because what is known as post-traumatic stress disorder today was
considered cowardice back then. A more appropriate description for being scared
witless at the idea of rushing towards falling bombs and machine gun fire would
be common sense.
When my history
teacher asked the class who we thought was the most at fault most of us went
with Mireau and Broulard. Surprisingly our teacher went with Colonel Dax,
because Dax knows how about conditions are out there yet he still decides to
lead them into battle. Personally I would rather blame the people ordering him
to do it in the first place. If a film remains not only relevant, but debatable
50 years after its release you know the director has done something right.
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