All of Peckinpah's thematic obsessions—hatred of authority, ambivalence about women, and fascination with moral duality—resonate throughout Cross of Iron, a loose adaptation of the novel The Patient Flesh by Willi Heinrich, a former German soldier. Set in the aftermath of Germany's ill-fated attempt to take Stalingrad, Peckinpah's 12th feature film otherwise skirts historic references to present the story in archetypal, everyman terms. The film's conflicted hero is Sgt. Steiner (Peckinpah regular James Coburn), a battle-fatigued platoon leader of fierce, uncompromising integrity. Struggling to hold onto the last vestiges of his morality in the midst of carnage, Steiner proves himself to be a compassionate, scrupulously fair platoon leader. When it comes to his commanding officers, however, Steiner openly despises them—and none more so than vain careerist Captain Stransky (Maximilian Schell).

A pompous, amoral aristocrat, Stransky will do anything to get the Iron Cross, Germany's highest military honor. His all-consuming pursuit of unearned glory puts him on a collision course with Steiner, who refuses to kowtow to Stransky's orders. Their clash of wills ultimately spills over onto the Russian Front, just as a Red Army stronghold forces Germany into a humiliating retreat.

Throughout the 1970s, Peckinpah was regularly branded a misogynistic director whose films The Wild Bunch (1969), Straw Dogs (1972), and Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974) revel in gratuitous, gore-soaked violence. While it's easy to see why Peckinpah's stylized, almost balletic depiction of violence and his treatment of female characters in these films and Cross of Iron would prompt said criticism, it's a sweeping generalization that's simplistic in the extreme. Peckinpah is no bloodthirsty sadist behind the camera, but a provocateur who wants to keep viewers squirming in an uneasy state of "moral disequilibrium," as film historian Stephen Prince so aptly puts it in his Cross of Iron commentary track. There's a steep price to be paid for wreaking violence in Peckinpah's films. His protagonists, like Sgt. Steiner in Cross of Iron and Dustin Hoffman's mild-mannered mathematician in Straw Dogs, forever run the risk of becoming what they most abhor: cold-blooded killers without conscience. Granted, Steiner commits some horrific acts in Cross of Iron, but he remains haunted by the gravity of what he's done.

Powerfully acted by an international cast of actors that also includes James Mason and David Warner, Cross of Iron is now rightly considered one of Peckinpah's best films. It's a gripping, avowedly anti-war drama that unfolds with a seamless mixture of gallows humor, graphic realism, and moral inquiry.

DVD DETAILS
Aside from the restoration of Cross of Iron to its original widescreen format, the chief attraction of the DVD's special features is Prince's informative and insightful commentary track. The author of the 1998 book Savage Cinema: Sam Peckinpah and the Rise of Ultraviolent Movies, Prince offers a thoughtful analysis of the legendarily difficult director, who battled the major studios, as well as a lifelong addiction to alcohol and cocaine, to produce a handful of great films. Other special features include Cross of Iron's ridiculously overblown theatrical trailer and a slideshow of lobby cards.