Blogorium Review: Paths of Glory

 An important note: I watched Stanley Kubrick's Paths of Glory the same night that Bin Laden was executed, and the subsequent reaction from crowds across the country (particularly in New York and Washington, D.C.) couldn't help but resonate with me to the end of the film. By necessity, I might have to spoil the narrative a bit, but I think you'll understand why when we get there.

 During the trench warfare of 1916, General Broulard (Adolphe Menjou) asks General Mireau (George MacReady) to send a division of troops on an impossible mission: storming the heavily fortified "Anthill," where the Germans have successfully pinned down French forces. Mireau knows it can't be done, but Broulard is hinting at a promotion for the effort, so he heads down to the nearest trench and orders Colonel Dax (Kirk Douglas) to carry out the raid. The Colonel is well aware that the 701st Regiment is in no condition to charge alone, and is promised a modicum of artillery support, so he reluctantly agrees to follow his bombastic General's orders. When things go awry, the Officers demand a court martial for cowardice, and petty squabbles within the 701st send three soldiers to their deaths, with only Dax ( a criminal lawyer in civilian life) standing in between them and the firing squad.

 It seems to me that Paths of Glory is often categorized as a "stark, unflinching anti-war film from Stanley Kubrick," which is true, but leaves out one important element of the construction of the movie - it's humor. I suppose people like to overlook the fact that the film begins as a comedy of sorts; at first as an outright parodic take on the formality of war from the perspective of the upper brass. Then Kubrick takes a deliberate turn towards the end of the film, stripping away the foibles of soldiers and gallows humor of execution in order to sober up audiences before they can go home.

 The officers are portrayed as blissfully unaware (or simply uninterested) in the realities of war, and Broulard and Mireau's early conversation has an arch, formalized component that makes the most sense if read as comedic. The opening scenes are funny, as are the introductions to the soldiers - many of whom are shellshocked, undesirable, lazy, drunk, or simply beaten down by trench warfare. When Mireau arrives, his chipper attitude and total ignorance towards their plight further compounds the humor. It's not unlike watching Chaplin's Shoulder Arms with less physical comedy. Corporal Paris (Ralph Meeker) has to put up with his drunken, cowardly superior Lieutenant Roget (Wayne Morris), who in a fit of stupidity kills one of his own men during a patrol and refuses to acknowledge that it happened, despite the fact that Paris saw him throw the fatal grenade.

 After the failure to raid the "Anthill," which includes the division being split up and 1/3 of the battalion refusing to leave the trench position, Mireau orders the artillery to fire on his own men, much to the shock of the Captain Rousseau (John Stein). Mireau orders everyone to lie and attempts to have 100 men executed for cowardice (the logical Broulard talks him down to 3, for a "morale boost") and the film takes a bit of a turn. The laughs come less from the disconnect between officer and soldier and side more with the futility of justice. Roget is assigned to choose one man for execution and immediately chooses Corporal Paris. Private Ferol (Timothy Carey) is chosen because his Lieutenant doesn't like him, and Private Arnaud (Joe Turkel) just has the dumb luck of being chosen. It doesn't matter he was cited twice for bravery; he's a coward now.

 Colonel Dax is thwarted at every turn by the court-martial, who is only interested in putting on a show for the upper brass and shipping these men off to their deaths. The frustration of the three condemned men and their commander is bleakly funny, as are a few moments following Arnaud, Paris, and Ferol as they await death. Dax gets his dig in by forcing Roget to carry out the firing squad, and when he discovers that Mireau killed his own men in a rage, the Colonel sees to it that promotion is the last thing on the General's plate - even though the delusional Mireau protests loudly to Broulard when faced with the truth.

 The final moments of the film strip away the black comedy and focus on the concept of war as a morale raiser for other troops. Dax, who refuses Mireau's promotion, prepares to return to the trenches, but first stops outside of the commissary. A young German girl (Susanne Christian, later Christiane Kubrick) has been captured by the French and is forced to sing in front of the rowdy, drunken soldiers. Their high from watching "cowards" being executed turns into catcalls, whistles, and lewd gestures as she tearfully sings "Der Treue Husar." Slowly, their jingoism fades away as the fragile, terrified girl in front of them tries to finish her song, and humanity wins out, however briefly.

 It was a coincidence that watching Paths of Glory coincided with Bin Laden's assassination, and while I can't say I mourn his passing, there was something oddly fitting about that evening. The reaction around the country, captured live on the news, to a military killing of an undesirable had the same morale boost in this era of instant communication that it does in Kubrick's fourth film (adapted from Humphrey Cobb's novel). The final moments of the film, which undercut the celebration, linger with me, and make me wonder when (or if) the fundamental humanity lost to "the Other" will hit us. To that effect, Paths of Glory is as potent today as it was in 1957. The stilted comedy is also as effective as it is cruel later in the film, an often forgotten but necessary component in its success.