"Letters From Iwo Jima" Directed by: Clint Eastwood Starring: Ken Watanabe, Kazunari Ninomiya, Tsuyoshi Ihara, Ryo Kase Rating: R (for intense, brutal war scenes) Running time: 142 minutes Best suited for: the antiwar crowd and the empathetic Least suited for: the gung-ho American supremacist Acorn Rating Guide: 4 acorns

There's a subliminally discomforting quality about "Letters From Iwo Jima," one that's briefly hard to pinpoint. The film opens on a group of soldiers, nervously anticipating an assault by a larger, stronger enemy force. From their banter, we realize their situation is perilous, perhaps even hopeless. But at the moment they're complaining about the heat, their rations, about endlessly digging ditches- whispering to each other that they may very well be preparing their own graves. Their officers seem both oblivious and oppressive.

Then a new commander arrives and immediately countermands their current orders to dig. He begins to deploy his troops with savvy leadership and skill. Far fewer will die, and from their new positions on higher ground, they will decimate the enemy.

And then we realize: Hey, wait a minute. The enemy is us. We're the good guys. We're the ones about to be decimated here. These soldiers are Japanese.

But it's already too late. We've connected. We empathize. Saigo (Kazunari Ninomiya) seems particularly affable, even harmless. His wife in Japan is pregnant, and he can't even shoot straight.

From the film's first moments, director Clint Eastwood lets us know that, in any war, on any side, the common foot soldier is somebody's brother or son or the kid next door. He's probably likable and gullible--believing what he's been told about a complicated global situation far beyond his comprehension. And maybe he's about to die for a cause because somebody's told him it's the right thing to do.

It's early 1945 and these soldiers are preparing to defend Iwo Jima, a tiny island that floats between the advancing American fleet and the Japanese mainland. If American forces capture Iwo Jima, our bombers can target Japan at will. The emperor knows its value. The defenders are ordered to fight to the death. The eventual battle will slaughter nearly 30,000 men.

The film is, in my opinion, one of Eastwood's best efforts. Its 142-minute running time will drag only for those who are gung-ho for quick combat and wanton bloodshed--because this one's as much a series of poignant character sketches as it is a sterling war drama.

Here's what you should know about "Letters From Iwo Jima": It's a serious war flick. It's bloody and sad and intense. America's certainly churned out its share of war films--although this one deserves kudos for its perspective.

Few mainstream Hollywood films have attempted to penetrate the soul of an enemy, and particularly this enemy. Cornel Wilde's "Beach Red" did it first, back in '67. It was an admirable flick but quirky--and suffered from bad timing. Vietnam was raging. "Tora! Tora! Tora!" emerged in 1970. Steven Spielberg's brilliant, underrated "Empire of the Sun" (1987) did it best.

Ken Watanabe, by the way, stars as Japanese General Kuribayashi. He is fierce with his officers and firm with his men, yet writes heartfelt letters to his wife and draws pictures for his children. Watanabe is superb here (as he was in "The Last Samurai"). The man commands the screen.

There is, however, one scene in "Letters From Iwo Jima" for which I'm going to take Mr. Eastwood to task (the remainder of this paragraph is a scene-spoiler, by the way, so look out). Midway through the film, two Japanese soldiers surrender to a platoon of U.S. Marines. In a fit of boredom, more so than rage or fear, a brooding American GI kills them both.

War is brutal, certainly. And we're aware that American atrocities happen more frequently than one would like to believe. Teach teenagers how to kill and guess what? They kill. However, "Letters From Iwo Jima" encapsulates a battle that lasts 8 days. Until the aforementioned moment, director Eastwood has superbly created an empathetic and tense, dramatic film. He's made his point that "war is hell." But his decision to depict this particular barbaric act delivers a disturbingly low blow.

Do we have it coming? I don't know. Is this how the rest of the world views us? Probably. Have American filmmakers portrayed the Japanese in such savage ways in the past? Absolutely. But I didn't like it then, either.

As a film critic, does it influence my review? No. But as a viewer, I feel manipulated and punished. Eastwood and co-writer Paul Haggis (who scripted "Million Dollar Baby" and "Crash") are pushing my buttons, and I don't appreciate it. How many small acts of kindness, I wonder, were arbitrarily overlooked? How many moments of courage or honor or humanity might have taken its place? It was unnecessary, underhanded and, to be honest, offensive to me. Take your personal agendas elsewhere, guys.

Because of that single scene, were I casting a vote for Best Director and for Best Original Screenplay, I might very well be tempted to vote elsewhere. Such is the potency of 30 seconds of celluloid. Move me, touch me, educate me, illuminate me, but don't rile me up. I guess personal agendas can work both ways.