Letters From Iwo Jima

General Tadamichi Kuribayashi leads remnants of his Japanese infantryman into what is, without any shred of doubt, certain death. Their country has left them on the island of Iwo Jima without the manpower or weaponry needed to adequately fight the 100,000 approaching invaders from America. After the smoke clears, only 1,083 of the 22,000 Japanese will have survived. And yet, Kuribayashi insists that his men continue battling with high spirits, while keeping in mind that, “our people will praise our dedication.” Ironically, the Iwo Jima battle was virtually erased from Japanese history books, perhaps out of pure shame for their own crushing loss. Most of the Japanese actors in director Clint Eastwood’s Letters from Iwo Jima had no knowledge of the battle until they read the script.

This is one of many staggering facts detailing the scope of 77-year-old Eastwood’s profound cinematic achievement, consisting of two films that focus on that pivotal bloody battle. Flags of Our Fathers, released last October, followed three American soldiers who get their picture taken while raising an inconsequential replacement flag at Iwo Jima. The photograph ends up spreading newfound patriotism across a cynical nation, and like the toppling of Saddam’s statue, the staged event is used by the government as pro-war propaganda. The soldiers are escorted back to America and lauded as “heroes”, a title they are each reluctant to accept. Letters from Iwo Jima tells a story that is no less relevant and relatable to the American public, even though its story is exclusively that of the Japanese.

Based on the actual letters Kuribayashi wrote to his family, Letters looks with unflinching detail and humanity at the Japanese soldiers’ shattering plight. Young Saigo, played by Kazunari Ninomiya, is jettisoned into the war before he can even witness the birth of his child. No one is particularly pleased to be on the island, even as they adhere to a strict code of honor with zombie-like persistence. Death is repeatedly emphasized as an act honorable above all others, when on the battlefield, though Kuribayashi—played by The Last Samurai’s Ken Watanabe—struggles to keep his men alive whatever the cost. Yet as the body count rises, assisted by dedicated soldiers who honorably commit suicide, the struggling survivors find themselves woefully under-equipped –a predicament that current soldiers stationed in Iraq could undoubtedly relate to. As Saigo races through the intricate network of underground tunnels and bunkers he helped hollow out—in sequences reminiscent of Andrzej Wajda’s Kanal (1957)—his early query, “Are we digging our own graves?” comes back to haunt him.

Iris Yamashita’s screenplay follows a traditional war movie structure that fuses together beautifully with Eastwood’s quietly observant direction, allowing the film’s complex themes to play out on a deceptively simple canvas. It is considerably better Flags, which succumbed to excessive sentimentality during a final act father-son reunion that came out of nowhere—except James Bradley’s memoir which the film was based on. Letters offers much tighter focus on character nuance, and elicits fiercely passionate work from Watanabe, whose performance plays like a slow, brutal heartbreak. As is common in an Eastwood film, the most powerful moments are usually the smallest: a Japanese Olympic star tenderly chats with an injured American; a soldier remembers risking expulsion for refusing to kill an innocent house pet; the defeated Japanese listen to a hopeful children’s choir singing “Our proud island Iwo Jima” on the radio. The unifying message of Eastwood’s entire two-film project is clearly revealed when a letter written by the mother of a deceased American soldier is read aloud by the Japanese, and they realize that their “enemy” isn’t all that different from themselves.

The inherent weakness of both Iwo Jima films is Eastwood’s unrelenting insistence on pounding the audience with his message long after it has sunk into their brains. The parallels between past and present, American and Japanese, heroism and hell are brilliantly expressed by both Flags and Letters, yet through a repetitive structure that is, at times, intensely frustrating. What continue to fascinate are the emotional and thematic parallels between both films, which truly illustrate the ideological unity of two opposing enemies who were each victims of war in every sense of the word. Since the sum of both films is vastly superior to its parts, it may have been wiser for Eastwood to edit the films together, cutting out the extraneous footage, while simultaneously following both countries through their similar struggles. That may have culminated in a sure-fire masterpiece, yet as it stands, Flags and Letters are two tremendously interesting pieces of a much more captivating puzzle.

Rating: ****1/2 (out of *****)