“Paths of Glory”‏

by richibi

hot on the heels of Sergeant Yorkhere’s
another war story, of war movies the one
that has left of all of them with me the most
indelible impression, Stanley Kubrick‘s 
searing Paths of Glory
incongruities exist, Kirk Douglas plays the
French Corporal Dax, not sounding at all like
a Frenchman but like the American voice of
reason back when such a position held, nor
do most of the other players, apart from,
among especially the military leads, more
formal, aristocratic, which is to say, viable
but these inefficiencies soon cede to the
power of a compelling story, all consistently
thickening drama, to the very inexorable end
some situations are heightened of course
for the sake of tension, but this is a completely
valid metaphorical device of fiction, I argue, for
the sake of a more profound truth, reality would
be too fraught with its own not as readily 
scrutable inconsistencies and conundrums 
the tale is as involving, incidentally, as a
Beethoven sonata, with even its own
incandescent coda, a short musical epilogue,
that will leave you blubbering, a scene of such
subtlety and vision, poetry and powerit has 
remained personally etched forever on my
however maybe too impressionable heart 
you’ll need, I think, some Kleenex
Kubrick even married his leading lady,
remaining together with her till ’99, the
year of his surely greatly grieved demise
interiors incidentally by Fragonard,
exteriors by the ravages of war 
psst: where have we heard about
           courts-martial lately