A squad of soldiers finds itself stranded behind enemy lines. They are members of an unspecified army, fighting an unspecified war. We are given their names and ranks, but little more. Kubrick's first feature film, written by future Pulitzer Prize–winner Howard Sackler, is an existentialist exercise in the meaninglessness of war, played out in an eerie zone of suspended dread. With its skewed camera angles, occasionally clunky dialogue, and a kind of adjourned action, Fear and Desire delves into the dark abyss of martial mayhem asking us to behold humanity set free of foundational beliefs. The soldiers are “further imperiled . . . by an unseen but deadly enemy who, upon scrutiny, seems to be almost shaped from the same mold,” Kubrick wrote. Here, combatants (Paul Mazursky among them) face off with their own faces, only to see doppelgängers in the fatigues of foes. Kubrick's initial outing is like a hand grenade-you can miss your target but still feel the blast.