An early passion project from writer/director Stanley Kubrick, _Paths of Glory_ was a troubled and unlikely film from the beginning. After he paired critical success with box office disappointment in _The Killing_, MGM was anxious to score a hit with the nascent director. His suggestion, a fictionalized courtroom account of a true WWI incident, wasn’t quite what they had in mind. A moderately successful book some twenty years prior, its first adaptation was such a Broadway flop that every studio in Hollywood turned their noses at the forthcoming screenplay. Kubrick was rebuffed, too, until a behind-the-scenes shakeup and a high-profile benefactor presented him with an opportunity. Bolstered by new bosses at MGM and the support of a big-time star in Kirk Douglas, he managed just enough clout to get the thing made. And the end result? Another critical triumph cut with middling returns.

_Paths of Glory_ isn’t the kind of production that sells a lot of tickets. Its curt honesty doesn’t allow for happy outcomes, and its vocal distrust of the state made far more enemies than friends back in the jingoistic days of 1957. In fact, the film’s progressive views on war, military leadership and political justice earned it a spot on the blacklist in many countries, which can’t have helped its profits. Never mind that its agenda was based in fact - a messy 1915 affair in which the French army executed four random soldiers as an example - as the Cold War ramped up, diplomatic allegiances carried more weight than morality. Germany withheld the film’s release for two years and Spain nixed it for almost thirty. Switzerland banned it out of sheer sympathy for their French allies.

So, did it really merit that much fuss? Maybe. It’s certainly a powerful film, with an effective message that confidently speaks against the establishment. Countless numbers of powerful men, coats lined with medals, meet in lush, comfortable environs to discuss both the fate of their troops and their own overdue promotions. They’re mirrored by rows of aspiring middle-managers in the field; layer upon layer of miserable, self-serving opportunists who specialize in casting blame, not accepting it. Douglas plays the only sensible one in the bunch (or, at least, the only one with a modicum of power), talking down a vindictive general and personally defending the unlucky condemned in kangaroo court before venting a career’s worth of frustrations at the film’s climax. I’m sure there were still many higher-ups in office who recognized themselves in these characters and felt some discomfort. I wouldn’t be surprised if they flexed a little muscle to rid themselves of the embarrassment.

Which is a shame, because it robbed the moviegoing public of an extremely well-crafted, intelligent, engrossing film. We’re fortunate that it didn’t also kneecap the career of one of cinema’s finest creators. Kubrick would revisit the subject of war with _Dr. Strangelove_ in 1964, then again in _Full Metal Jacket_ sixteen years later. This overlooked gem deserves to stand right alongside them.