Paths of Glory Ranked Among the Best Movies by Rotten Tomatoes
When a film like Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory gets renewed attention as one of the best movies of all time, it’s easy to think of it purely as a historical artifact—a stark black-and-white indictment of military futility from another era. But for residents of Chicago, Illinois, this 1957 classic carries a particularly resonant echo, not just because of its themes of injustice and institutional betrayal, but because of how those themes continue to ripple through the city’s own legal, civic and cultural landscapes today. The film’s unflinching look at how power protects itself at the expense of the powerless isn’t just a relic of World War I trenches. it’s a mirror held up to modern systems where accountability can feel just as elusive.
What makes Paths of Glory endure isn’t just Kirk Douglas’s commanding performance as Colonel Dax or Georg Krause’s haunting cinematography—it’s the film’s moral clarity in depicting how bureaucratic machinery can manufacture scapegoats to shield leadership from failure. That narrative found real-world parallels in events like the Souain corporals affair of 1915, the actual incident that inspired Humphrey Cobb’s novel and Kubrick’s adaptation. In Chicago, a city with a deep and often troubled relationship between its institutions and its citizens, such stories don’t feel distant. From the legacy of police misconduct investigations to the ongoing scrutiny of how public funds are allocated in wards and neighborhoods, the tension between institutional authority and individual dignity remains a live wire in local discourse.
This isn’t about drawing false equivalences between trench warfare and city council meetings. It’s about recognizing patterns. Kubrick, working with co-writers Calder Willingham and Jim Thompson, didn’t just create an anti-war film; he made a film about the abuse of process. The court-martial scene isn’t just dramatic—it’s a procedural horror show where the outcome is preordained, evidence is manipulated, and the accused are denied a meaningful defense. Chicagoans familiar with the function of organizations like the Invisible Institute, which documents police accountability, or the MacArthur Justice Center, which challenges systemic inequities in the legal system, will recognize that same procedural asymmetry. When systems are designed to protect themselves rather than seek truth, the results—whether in 1910s France or 2020s Illinois—can be eerily similar.
The film’s production history adds another layer of relevance. Shot in West Germany because the French government refused to allow filming that criticized its military, Paths of Glory wasn’t shown in France until 1972. That kind of suppression—of art that challenges national myths—finds parallels in how communities grapple with their own histories. In Chicago, debates over monuments, street names, and how public schools teach local history often hinge on who gets to tell the story and what parts are deemed “too divisive” to include. The film’s delayed release abroad reminds us that confronting uncomfortable truths isn’t just difficult—it’s often actively resisted by those who benefit from the status quo.
Beyond its thematic weight, Paths of Glory represents a benchmark in cinematic craftsmanship that continues to influence filmmakers and audiences alike. Its inclusion on Rotten Tomatoes’ list of the best movies of all time isn’t just nostalgia—it’s an acknowledgment that its formal innovations (the famous tracking shot through the trenches, the use of sound and silence) serve a deeper purpose: immersing the viewer in the psychological reality of its characters. For Chicago’s vibrant film community—from the programmers at the Gene Siskel Film Center to the instructors at Columbia College Chicago’s Cinema Art + Science program—Kubrick’s work remains a touchstone for how technical excellence can serve ethical storytelling.
Given my background in analyzing how cultural narratives intersect with civic life, if this renewed attention to Paths of Glory prompts you to reflect on how stories of institutional accountability play out in your own Chicago neighborhood, here are three types of local professionals worth seeking out:
- Civic Engagement Facilitators: Look for practitioners affiliated with groups like the Chicago Community Trust or local aldermanic offices who specialize in designing inclusive dialogue processes—especially those trained in restorative justice frameworks or experienced in mediating disputes between residents and public agencies. The best ones don’t just host meetings; they build trust over time and ensure marginalized voices aren’t just heard but shape outcomes.
- Media Literacy Educators: Seek out instructors or workshop leaders connected to organizations such as Free Spirit Media or the News Literacy Project who focus on helping residents deconstruct narratives in film, news, and social media. Prioritize those who use local examples—like how Chicago-specific stories are framed in national outlets—to teach critical viewing and thinking skills that empower people to spot manipulation, whether in a 1957 courtroom drama or a viral tweet.
- Independent Film Programmers: Consider curators or community organizers associated with venues like the Logan Center for the Arts or the Chicago Film Society who specialize in contextual screenings—pairing classic films like Paths of Glory with panels featuring historians, legal experts, or activists. The most valuable ones don’t just show movies; they create spaces where art becomes a catalyst for informed conversation about justice, power, and memory.
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