Entertainment, Movies - Army Times

‘Flags of Our Fathers’: Film shows reality behind legendary photo

Every war needs heroes -- people who do extraordinary things that inspire others in support of the grand and glorious cause. And, sometimes, if real heroes can’t be found, they must be manufactured.

For proof, we need look back no further than the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. When Pfc. Jessica Lynch’s supply convoy was ambushed in Iraq, the Pentagon initially spun a startling story about the diminutive soldier mounting a ferocious defense, emptying her M16 rifle before being overwhelmed and taken prisoner. It was later revealed that she never got off a shot.

Then there’s Cpl. Pat Tillman, the square-jawed former pro football star who supposedly died from enemy fire while in combat with Taliban fighters in Afghanistan -- until the military admitted that he was accidentally shot by U.S. troops.

What, then, is a hero? Can anyone ever really “be” a hero, or is heroism merely a thin and flimsy label that others slap on and tear off at whim? And what price do both heroes and hero-worshippers pay for that?

Those questions form the heart of “Flags of Our Fathers,” the eagerly awaited film adaptation of James Bradley’s best-selling book about his father’s role in the legendary World War II flag-raising on Iwo Jima. The second of two flag-raisings on Feb. 23, 1945, yielded one of the most famous wartime photographs in history -- an image that is credited with helping to turn the tide of the war in the Pacific.

It’s a deeply moving, beautiful film, shot in a bleached, monochromatic color palette that is gorgeous in its stark simplicity.

But it’s not the film that many people have been expecting; it’s not really the Marine Corps version of “Saving Private Ryan.”

Yes, it has plenty of graphic combat footage. But lead-slinging carnage is not what Bradley’s book is about, and it’s not what this film is about. Rather, the film is about the way we eagerly build up and callously discard “heroes.”

From that perspective, it’s quite easy to see what made Clint Eastwood want to direct this project. He’s spent decades exploring various hero and anti-hero archetypes -- and the mythic overtones that have enveloped the flag-raising on Iwo Jima over the years surely hit him right in his sweet spot.

As its framing device, the film has Bradley (Tom McCarthy) interviewing Iwo survivors about the battle as research for his book, which he undertook in an effort to better understand his father, Pharmacist’s Mate 2nd Class John “Doc” Bradley, a Navy corpsman who was one of the six flag-raisers.

The Pulitzer Prize-winning photo that made them all famous was shot by Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal on Mount Suribachi, the high point of the desolate, 8-square-mile pile of volcanic ash and rock.

Eastwood cuts back and forth between events on Iwo, a battle that lasted more than a month and became the single bloodiest engagement of the war, and the subsequent struggle of the three surviving flag-raisers to come to terms with their complex legacy.

Bradley (Ryan Phillippe), Pfc. Rene Gagnon (Jesse Bradford) and Cpl. Ira Hayes (Adam Beach) had that legacy forced upon them when they were shanghaied by Washington bureaucrats to serve as poster boys for the war-bond effort on the home front.

Trotted out at stadiums and other public venues to be celebrated by an adoring nation, they were forced to take part in embarrassingly hokey stunts such as re-enacting the flag-raising on a papier-mâché rock, all in an effort to bolster the sagging national morale and refill the Treasury Department’s dangerously diminishing coffers.

All three felt like undeserving impostors; all felt that the real heroes were their buddies who died on Iwo. None was more reluctant to embrace his newfound fame than Hayes, a Pima Indian who was pursued by inner demons well before he hit the beach at Iwo and afterward quickly lost ground in that race.

And when the government had squeezed all it could from them, they were tossed aside. In that pre-dawn prelude to the age of celebrity worship, their descent into obscurity seemed to happen as quickly as that flag had gone up back on Iwo.

Given the meatiest role, Beach makes the most of it, poignantly tracing Hayes’ descent into an alcoholic drifter’s life that ended tragically in 1955 when he died of exposure.

The others didn’t have an easy road, either. Gagnon tried to cash in on his fame, but opportunities promised him by powerful men eager to rub shoulders with a hero quickly evaporated, and he worked menial jobs -- mostly as a janitor -- until his death in 1979.

Only Bradley managed to find some semblance of normalcy, raising a family and working as a funeral home director. But even he was plagued by nightmares and hallucinations for the rest of his days until his 1994 death.

As their story unfolded on screen, the shifting mood of the packed house at my screening proved quite interesting.

Early on, a noticeable buzz filled the theater. But when the film ended, a brief smattering of applause quickly morphed into solemn silence as historical photographs of the battle for Iwo Jima appeared on screen, accompanied by elegantly spare music composed by Eastwood.

That seemed only fitting; this is a movie that invites reflection. It’s not without flaws -- sorting out the characters in the early going is tricky, and the frequent hard U-turns between the battle scenes and stateside sequences may cause mild whiplash.

But if Eastwood’s “Letters From Iwo Jima” -- the companion film told from the Japanese perspective that is due out early next year -- is as good as this, he will have fashioned quite a set of bookends to cap his storied career.

3½ stars. Rated R for graphic violence. Got a rant or rave about the movies? E-mail cvinch@atpco.com.