There are two categories of war films – there are those that take place during the conflict, focusing either on the political machinations that lead two or more groups into battle or the soldiers themselves, while the second category involves films that are set in the direct aftermath of war, here usually focusing on both the people who fought, and those who stayed behind, both of which are the focus of haunting stories of the impact war can have on an individual and society as a whole. William Wyler’s absolutely extraordinary The Best Years of Our Lives occupies the latter, being produced in the months following the end of the Second World War, and focused on a trio of servicemen – one who fought in the army, another that flew planes for the United States, and the third being enlisted in the US Navy, as they make their way back home. Three men from different walks of life all returning home to the fictitious Midwestern town of Boone City, where they find themselves struggling to integrate back into society. As one of the most important films ever made on the subject of war, The Best Years of Our Lives has many qualities that have been recreated in later works that focus on armed conflict and its impact not only on the psychological state of the people who witnessed it, but also those who were fighting their own battle at home, which was very often entails the same courage and desire to survive as those fighting in foreign lands – and while it may not be the most traditional work on the subject of war itself, there are certainly qualities that make it absolutely essential, taking it from a simple story of three veterans making their way back to civilian life, only to discover the place they called home has become increasingly unrecognizable, forcing them to reconsider absolutely everything they knew to be true, and questioning whether life can ever truly be the same in the aftermath of something quite as damaging, both socially and psychologically, as war.

Wyler was something of a rarity as a director – he was not one to have a very particular style, which was strange in an era where the earliest signs of the auteur tradition were starting to appear, but he also was far from the proverbial director-for-hire, often pursuing projects that interested him as an artist, rather than just making himself available as a quick-handed director who could take a strong script and turn it into a decent film. One of our great chameleonic directors, working at a time when such an approach was risky for any filmmaker at a time when adherence to one’s comfort zone was encouraged. On a surface-level glance, The Best Years of Our Lives doesn’t seem like such an impressive achievement, especially since many directors were staking their claim at making a film that captured both the harrowing conditions of war, and the valour of the soldiers that fought in it. At a conceptual level, Robert E. Sherwood had quite a formidable challenge ahead of him when he was tasked with adapting the novella Glory for Me by MacKinlay Kantor into this film, which is a sprawling, three-hour cinematic epic that touches on numerous themes, including the postwar experience, the changing face of American society in the aftermath of this conflict, and the psychological impact felt by those who experienced the horrors of war. Working closely with the writer and his team of creative collaborators, Wyler creates an achingly beautiful tribute to the people to which he had undying devotion, having experienced the terrifying nature of war himself, having served in both the National Guard and American Air Force (and thus giving him firsthand insights that are only possible within those with experience), which only makes the candour with which he approaches this film all the more powerful, and elevates The Best Years of Our Lives from a conventional melodrama, and instead forms it into one of the most hauntingly poignant indictments on war ever produced.

The Best Years of Our Lives contains something that is relatively uncommon for a film that promotes itself as being focused on the war – there is not a single moment of conflict depicted on screen. From a contemporary perspective, this does not seem all that notable, since we have grown accustomed to seeing films that look at war through either the people that stand at the helm, controlling it, or the moments that occur in the aftermath. What we soon learn is that depicting conflict itself on screen isn’t always that interesting – it can be brutal when it is honest, flippant when it is glorified, and while they may be spectacles that showcase directorial prowess, they’re often just an excuse for excess. What seems to be the most riveting content is the stories of the individual people and their experiences, which is where this film thrives, especially in negotiating its moral grounding. Remarkably, this is not a film that seems to be all that interested in praising the US government for their involvement in the war, and it is often exceptionally cynical, especially in how it deconstructs the circumstances surrounding the war. There isn’t a single moment in this film where Wyler makes it seem like war is something to look fondly on (which is a change of pace for the more jingoistic productions we saw around this time), but rather that it is the cause of deep trauma for generations of people, most notably those who were fortunate to return home. The men in The Best Years of Our Lives are not labelled as heroes for fighting the war, but rather the survivors who were lucky enough to evade death, but still carry with them the wounds of war, whether physical deformity or a deep sense of trauma that will linger with them forever. The Best Years of Our Lives is a film that openly and without any hesitation remarks on its disdain for the act of war, and rather focuses its attention on showing reverence for the soldiers – both those who lost their lives and the ones that returned home – who put their lives at risk to fight battles against people that they were forced to hate.

The main difference between The Best Years of Our Lives and most other war films from this period is that it places the emphasis less on the specific machinations of war, and more on the people at the heart of it. The trio of soldiers at the heart of the story are the focus, as are their families and peripheral members of the community into which they are trying to reassimilate. This leads to the film becoming less of a war epic, and instead takes the form of a vivid character-driven drama, and as a result we’re presented with a range of truly impressive performances. Not too many ensemble-based films are as equally strong as this, with the task of choosing a standout being very close to impossible. Fredric March holds court as the de facto lead, playing the experienced commander who finds himself struggling to return to everyday life as a banker, despite having nothing but the most undying respect from those around him, specifically his wife, played by the incomparable Myrna Loy. March and Loy are astonishing, playing off each other so well – despite being the most solid and established couple at the heart of the film, they seem like the characters with the most to lose, especially through the continued maturing of their daughter, as portrayed by Theresa Wright, who finds herself venturing off into the world on her own. Dana Andrews and Harold Russell manage to match March in terms of powerful performances, the latter in particular being unforgettable. Russell was a veteran of the Second World War himself, recruited after Wyler saw footage that featured him as a survivor of an unfortunate incident during the conflict that caused the loss of both of his hands. The most heartbreaking moments of The Best Years of Our Lives come in those that feature Russell, whose ease in front of a camera betrays the fact that he was a non-professional actor, rising to the position of being the heart and soul of this incredible film, which takes on even more meaning when we consider how each member of this cast, whether those in major roles or supporting parts, offer invaluable contributions to this deeply striking story of the postwar experience.

In much the same way that many theorists are constantly trying to determine what book to label as the “great American novel”, there is a perpetual search to determine what the cinematic equivalent of this could potentially be. There aren’t too many legitimate contenders, since trying to capture the entire American experience into a few hours is almost impossible. Yet, The Best Years of Our Lives is one of the few instances where a film meets absolutely every criterion, and certainly stands as a strong choice for the title. There are numerous reasons for this, primarily due to the fact that it tries its best to take an objective look at the American Dream through the lens of something as harrowing as war, and the people returning to their fictional town that could represent any urban locale within the country – the film is proud of its origins, but it is not blinded by them, and thus it is able to critically analyze the broken promises of a socio-cultural system that claims to have nothing but respect for its citizens (especially those that were brave enough to risk their lives to fight a war against enemies to whom they had very little personal disdain outside of being forced into believing certain foreigners were antagonists to their freedom), but yet fails to deliver on these same promises when it is necessary. It’s not the first film to critique these ideas, but it is one that seems a lot more constructive in its perspective – it’s not an anti-American film by any means, but rather the kind that takes a very firm stance against overt celebration when it is not due. At the time, it’s easy to understand why it was slightly more challenging to see a film such as this, especially as the ashes of the war hadn’t even begun to settle just yet (and the fact that it was made only a few months after the war ended just makes it more poignant), but it has allowed The Best Years of Our Lives to age incredibly well, remaining one of the most potent and beautifully haunting stories of the American experience ever committed to film.

The Best Years of Our Lives may not depict any traditional armed conflict, but it is a film about fighting battles, just those that occur on a scale that may be smaller, but are not any less important. Few films have been able to capture the raw melancholy and unhinged frustration that befell every community that felt the impact of an event as cataclysmic as the Second World War than this, and it is difficult to imagine many American-based filmmakers being able to portray this in a way that is meaningful but not overwrought than Wyler, whose steadfast commitment to challenging perceptions led to a film that is has the formidable task of navigating challenging narrative terrain, all for the sake of deconstructing the idea of war. There’s a very narrow boundary that this film has to grapple, where it is openly criticizing the war and the people that were responsible for it (as well as indicating that the conclusion of this war isn’t cause for celebration, as there are still many battles being fought around the world, some of them more violent than others), while still paying tribute to the courageous men and women that lived through this period, whether taking part in combat directly, or staying behind and doing their best to stay afloat in radically changing times. Few films have been able to so effectively look at themes such as post-traumatic stress disorder (which is shown as much more than just the callous term of “shell-shocked” that was popular at the time), and the challenges many servicepeople face when they’re discharged from their duties, and given the chance to return home, only to find that they have forgotten how to operate in civilian life. Beautifully poetic at moments, but executed with the kind of heartful melancholy that this story deserves, The Best Years of Our Lives is an absolutely staggering work that remains one of the most poignant and heartbreaking testaments to the human condition ever produced.