Dear Paths of Glory,
Probably more than any other filmmaker, Stanley Kubrick both challenges and encourages me to treat each of his films as something worthy of scholarship. Something worth legitimate ‘study’ as opposed to being a vessel for gleeful mindless escape and entertainment. There is an impulse and inclination to examine and investigate his work as if it were a mathematical equation, science experiment, or unsolved crime. To be clear, the works of Kubrick do not require such disposition. They are objectively significant works of art regardless of the attitude brought to the table by the viewer. In fact, there is plenty of value to be had in simply letting his films wash over you, setting aside any intentional thoughts of analysis or deconstruction. This laisseze-faire approach might even be most appropriate for such a filmmaker, indicating trust in a storyteller to do their job and move the needle of my emotional barometer without me having to play the vigilante role and go searching for it. And yet, while I’m quite content as a more passive viewer in many cases, I find myself incredibly eager to take an active role in Kubrick’s work. I’m fairly confident each and every one of his films would make a fine case study for my amateur film appreciation/dissection aims, but for today we’ll focus on his 1957 output Paths of Glory, a film that is ripe with opportunity for the studious moviegoer.
I knew Kubrick was more than capable of capturing my attention with locations and settings… but wow. In contrast to the never-ending void of deep space and inescapable maze that is the Overlook Hotel in his later work (2001: A Space Odyssey, The Shining) Paths of Glory contains extremely intimate and enclosed spaces that immediately catch the eye. Military trenches, underground dugouts, and dinner tables each provide limited yet ample space for performers to shine in a surprisingly dialogue heavy film for the king of image and sound. Aside from great performances by the actors, it is the details in the staging of these scenes that hold our attention, something easy to overlook if you’re not paying close attention. Take one particular exchange between Gen. Mireau (George Macready) and Col. Dax (Kirk Douglas) where the ‘Ant Hill’ is the topic of conversation. The dugout ceiling— and subsequently the source of light for the enclosed space— hangs low, obstructing the view and personal space of our characters on screen as well as our own field of vision at home. Col. Dax and Gen. Mirea engage in conversation on tactical strategy while in constant motion around the closter-phobic room— navigating overhead lights and pillars, moving right to left, back to front, in frame and out of frame. The two spar verbally while facing the confines of their meeting room, literally talking in circles around one another as it if they were live on stage acutely aware of ‘hitting their marks’. The positioning of the characters and constant movement of the camera give all spectators a front row seat, allowing us to see reaction shots of each individual in a single frame without cutting. These details infuse a two-and-a-half-minute fairly straight forward discussion with a nervous tension and energy that would not exist were it not for the attention to detail put forth concerning factors outside of simply words on the page. The trench tracking shots operate similarly— particularly the first one showing each of the three men that will later be court-martialed, foreshadowing no indications of their cowardice soon called into question— filled with subtle detail, constant motion, and a false sense of security given the danger just feet above them. Though intimate settings and spaces here reign supreme, the fan of Kubrick’s grander artistic sensibilities will be pleased to find that those are not lost here in spite of the frequency and efficacy of intimate spaces implored. From the opening sequence to the stunning advance on the ‘Ant Hill’ to the court-martial, Kubrick utilizes wide shots and wide settings to overwhelm the characters, depicting their smallness in contrast to larger workings at play. Regardless of the cinematography style one fancies, there is much, much to appreciate in Paths of Glory.
I’ve heaped plenty of praise on Stanley Kubrick— probably my favorite filmmaker— already but why not add to the pile in my final thoughts? The legendary filmmaker might be my ‘favorite’ of many things, but, without hesitation, most certainly takes that spot for mastering the ending of a feature length film. To my unsuspecting (why do I even bother doubting at this point?) amusement, Kubrick delivers once again with Paths of Glory. A rare ending that is completely satisfying, genuinely touching, and remains a total mystery to me. A room full of immature and hormonal young men concerned with self-gratification transforms, slowly but surely, into a group moved to tears by a single song (“Der treue Hussar”). What was it about that moment that struck the heart of not one or two but all of the men in that room? What was it about that particular song, performed in German, that stripped the men of their immediate surroundings if only for a moment? What was it about that sequence that urged Kubrick to end his film with a group of characters we are seeing for the first time on screen? I’m sure such answers have been provided and explanations sussed out, but unlike my active role taking throughout the rest of the film, when it comes time for the conclusion, the ambiguity and elusiveness make it all the more powerful for me.
To Paths of Glory, Mr. Kubrick, and all who had a hand in the film, thank you.
Sincerely,
movie lovers everywhere
Thanks for reading!
Sources: IMDb, Letterboxd
Film: Paths of Glory
Release Year: 1957
Director: Stanley Kubrick
Production: Bryna Productions, United Artists, Harris Kubrick Pictures