By Jim Seymour
For Variety

I CAN’T think of a better time for America to be thinking about heroes. My uncle Bradford was shot down over the Pacific (somewhere near the Marshall Islands) and family lore holds that he was missing for several weeks before being discovered and awarded the Purple Heart for rescuing a fellow flyer. He never talked about those events and certainly never expected to be regarded a hero, though it was obvious the experience had dramatically changed him. This story has taken on added significance for me since moving to the Western Pacific, especially, considering the complicated reports we’ve gotten in the past few years about the conduct of some soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Perhaps no one in Hollywood has spent more energy investigating the true nature of violence than Clint Eastwood. His evolution from the darling of spaghetti westerns to the award-winning director of films devoted to examining the consequences of individual violence (Unforgiven, Mystic River) has inspired him this past year to consider the greater violence inflicted in the name of nations. These efforts have culminated in the release of two films in 2006, the first of which, Flags of Our Fathers, speaks most directly to the experience of American GIs like my Uncle Brad.
The story of Iwo Jima continues to fascinate and to disturb, considering the obscene number of GIs and Japanese who died in this extremely bloody and, ultimately, unsuccessful battle to secure a small island off the coast of Tokyo. While the battle scenes are startlingly realistic, recalling scenes from producer Steven Spielberg’s earlier Private Ryan, the central idea of the film examines the way in which the government used the famously staged photograph of the raising of the flag at the top of Mount Suribachi as a propaganda tool to boost support for a war that was nearly won. The lasting effect of this sober film leaves one with a much more complex view of the costs to individuals who, believing they are merely stand-ins for the real heroes, cannot abide the lies to which they must agree. Perhaps, this explains why other vets like my Uncle Brad rarely spoke of their experiences, preferring to wrestle privately with their own demons.
All three of the selected “heroes” suffer, but only one pays the ultimate price. Ira Hayes, the Native American GI who had the greatest difficulty accepting his label, has been the subject of several earlier films and a song by Buffy St. Marie. His journey from a much discriminated soldier to a homeless alcoholic who drowned in a puddle of his own vomit, has taken on nearly mythic proportions. This film admirably adds to that story by resisting any sentimentality or hero-worship, thereby illuminating the very dangerous tendency of all nations to glorify battle.
Eastwood must also be congratulated, there being no attempt to provide any Japanese perspective in Flags of our Fathers, for honoring the great sacrifice made by Japan. Shortly after completing this film, he went on to make Letters From Iwo Jima, recently released in Japanese and apparently even more powerful than his first film. I can think of no other American filmmaker so brave as to insist on telling a complete and unbiased report of an event that could easily have been relegated to the dustbin of war propaganda.
Surely all members of the military, should they be veterans of any American war or currently serving our country overseas, will be grateful to Eastwood for extending our knowledge and understanding of the true consequences of war.