Sixty-two years ago, some 100,000 Americans (mostly Marines) invaded a tiny volcanic Pacific island to battle 22,000 Japanese infantry, defending their home turf for the first time. The thirty-six day conflagration resulted in 6,821 American casualties and over 22,000 wounded while 21,000 Japanese perished, but the most memorable aspect of bloody Iwo Jima (from an American perspective) is the iconic image of the Marines raising the American flag atop Mount Suribachi.

Chronicling the aftermath of that heroic photograph that was exploited to sell War Bonds and subsequently adopted as the official image of the U.S. Marine Corps in Flags of Our Fathers, Clint Eastwood immediately afterwards shot footage from the Japanese perspective for companion film Letters from Iwo Jima. Although smaller in scope and primarily confined inside bunkers and tunnels, the second film is much stronger--effectively emphasizing humanitarian values that go far beyond the battlefield. Patriotic norms are ignored to show how the Japanese soldiers merely longed to be back home just like any American Marine; they are not the barbaric, crazed warriors that have been depicted in most previous Hollywood renditions.

Opening inside one of Suribachi’s tunnels, archaeologists unearth a long undiscovered bag and we are transported back to Eastwood's washed out 1945 canvas, where Japanese soldiers prepare for the expected assault by digging trenches on the beach--a hopeless strategy that even the lowly foot soldiers recognize. Expected to stoically serve under their strict bushido code, holding that they must “die before dishonor” defending sacred Japanese land, the soldiers sense that they are doing little more than digging their own graves. One heretical conscript sees nothing sacred about acrid little Iwo Jima: “The Americans can have it,” former baker Saigo (Kazunari Ninomiya) grumbles. For this, Saigo’s commanding officer commences to beat the life out of him until Lt. General Tadamichi Kuribayashi (Ken Watanabe) intervenes. Not only is this fortunate for our charismatic “grunt” protagonist, but for the entire Japanese military force on the island.

Trained in military tactics in the United States, Kuribayashi doesn’t sanction suicidal banzai attacks, instead fashioning a defensive guerrilla style that became the Japanese standard. Similar to Patton’s General Bradley, Kuribayashi eschews officer privileges by enduring the same food rations and conditions of his men. Initially, he personally walks and inspects the entire island to meticulously plan the system of underground bunkers and tunnels. Even after realizing that their situation is hopeless, that no relief from the Imperial Fleet is coming, Kuribayashi chooses to stay on the island and fight alongside his men in a final futile surge. He courageously portrays the most heroic character.

Another noble officer is Baron Nishi (Tsuyashi Ihara), inspirational Olympian equestrian medalist who brings his horse with him. He also knows and respects the Americans, having partied with the likes of Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks. Recognizing a kindred spirit, Kuribayashi joins the famous athlete over daily rations and a bottle of Johnnie Walker and learns that the Combined Fleet is in shambles. He stoically remarks, “The Imperial Headquarters is deceiving not just the people but us as well.” It’s a line that can be universally applied to any war that employs propaganda (including present day fiascoes).

Japanese boy band member, Kanzunari Ninomiya, makes an indelible mark on the film. Hardly the prototypical Japanese soldier, his Saigo only wants to return home to his wife to run their bakery (even if it means abandoning the bushido code and surrendering). He can't shoot worth a damn and is mostly assigned clean-up and message running duties. He naturally provides comic relief and represents the everyday soldier, who just wants to survive their living Hell. It's impossible to witness his performance and still feel any hatred towards the Japanese soldiers.

Based on Tadamichi Kuribayashi’s Picture Letters from Commander in Chief, first time screenwriter Iris Yamashita collaborated with veteran Paul Haggis (Crash) for the script. Hitting the expected emotional buttons to drive home the humanitarian theme, the screenplay at times takes on Haggis' manipulative style, but it's effective for the intended audience. You can't expect sub-title resistant U.S. audiences to sit through a 142 minute “Japanese” movie if the visuals and structure tread unfamiliar ground. The tight structure, fine ensemble cast, and selective flashbacks to flesh out the main characters all serve to give audiences an atypical view behind “enemy” lines. We can only hope that Letters from Iwo Jima sparks more communication between differing cultures/nations before future blood be shed needlessly.

Clint Eastwood has abandoned his “Dirty Harry” persona to show a softer side in his last few films, but he continues to fight righteous battles to remind us of basic human values and to look at old issues from a fresh perspective. Much more focused than Flags of Our Fathers and dealing less with actual battles and carnage, Letters from Iwo Jima draws evocative portraits of its characters that allow the audience to experience their very human hopes and fears. It's not subtle by any means, but the message is heartfelt and rings true--all the more appropriate under the current climate of distrust and contention.