In making "Flags of Our Fathers," released two months ago, Clint Eastwood said he was bothered that he was only telling half of the story of the vicious World War II battle for a tiny volcanic island in the Pacific in 1945. So he made another film. "Letters From Iwo Jima," shot with Japanese actors in their language, tells the story of the men who defended the island with their deaths.

Eastwood's accomplishment with these two films, shot back to back yet with much different tone and substance, cannot be overstated. Eastwood's previous pictures, "Mystic River" and "Million Dollar Baby," seemed like works by a director seeking simplicity of story in exchange for depth of emotions and character. In keeping things simple -- especially so in the latter film -- Eastwood dug deep into his underling themes, much as John Ford did late in his career with the minimalist Western "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance."

Now Eastwood turns on a dime and tackles not just his first war movie but two war movies of considerable scope and complexity. If he doesn't nail everything perfectly, he nevertheless has created a vivid memorial to the courage on both sides of this battle and created an awareness in the public consciousness at a most opportune moment about how war feels to those lost in its fog.

While "Flags" is the broader, more entertaining film, if you will, "Letters" is, for want of a better expression, more art house. It might perform more strongly at the boxoffice in Japan and Europe than in the domestic market where subtitles cut attendance. Perhaps it will find its American audience over time.

"Letters," which concerns an utterly futile conflict in which Japanese forces are overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemy troops, is necessarily fatalistic and melancholy. No one expects to survive. Indeed more than 20,000 Japanese troops perished. Yet a battle that was supposed to last five days took nearly 40. The reason for this was Lt. Gen. Tadamichi Kuribayashi (Ken Watanabe).

World War II offers no figure more fascinating, complex or tragic than this man. Before the war, Kuribayashi traveled and studied in America and opposed the war. Yet when asked to defend the island that was the last stepping stone before the Imperial homeland, he takes advantage of his knowledge and insights into U.S. military strategy to completely retool the island's defense.

Arriving several months before the invasion, he insists on a tour by foot, much to the displeasure of his tired officers. Everything he sees is wrong. He orders construction of miles of tunnels through the black volcanic rock that connect with 5,000 caves and pillboxes from which his much smaller forces can ambush enemy troops.

One of the movie's great lines comes when he commands that no one can die before he has killed 10 enemy soldiers. Thus, his horrifying strategy is not for victory but a defeat that will cost the enemy as many casualties as possible.

The screenplay by Japanese-American writer Iris Yamashita, from a story she wrote with executive producer Paul Haggis, derives in part from a book of letters by Kuribayashi to his wife, daughter and son, published in Japan, as well as hundreds of letters from young conscriptees found buried on the island decades later. These letters, often read aloud, lead to flashbacks, a device that is sometimes awkward.

Eastwood deliberately casts only a few actors and extras so as to emphasize the smallness of the Japanese forces. Saigo (Kazunari Ninomiya, who is just terrific) is a baker whose only desire is to return to Japan to see a daughter born since his departure. Baron Nishi (Tsuyoshi Ihara) is a well-known equestrian champion who competed in the 1932 Olympics in Los Angeles. His presence leads to a surreal scene in which the baron chats with a dying American soldier about his experiences in Los Angeles and friendships with Hollywood personalities.

The presence of former military policeman Shimizu (Ryo Kase) provokes suspicion among the troops over his true role. But his story unfolds too late in the film, squandering any impact it might have. Lt. Ito (Shidou Nakamura) represents the death culture in the Japanese military, men who prefer suicide to the dishonor of surrender or even retreat. It's fascinating to hear him call his general "a weak American sympathizer."

Like "Flags," this movie is shot by Tom Stern virtually in black and white. The only color comes in fireballs and the flashbacks. The late designer Henry Bumstead and James J. Murakami make the caves, tunnels and beaches a harsh, uninviting place, "a hole," as Saigo writes to his wife, "in which to fight and die."

This film is one of the least glamorized war movies ever with none of the cinematic flash of, say, "Saving Private Ryan" or "We Were Soldiers." Here war is seen as a dull, sickening, grinding machine has chews up minds and bodies.

The film is slow. Soldiers reflect on their fate perhaps too many times. Points are made and then made again. But this may be part of Eastwood's strategy: War is slow and repetitive and can drive people to real insanity. Filmmakers usually ignore this in war movies. "Flags" and now "Letters" represent a different kind of war movie.

LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
Warner Bros. Pictures
Warner Bros. Pictures and DreamWorks Pictures present
a Malpaso/Amblin Entertainment production
Credits:
Director: Clint Eastwood
Screenwriter: Iris Yamashita
Story: Iris Yamashita, Paul Haggis
Based on the book by: Tadamichi Kuribayashi
Producers: Clint Eastwood, Steven Spielberg, Robert Lorenz
Executive producer: Paul Haggis
Director of photography: Tom Stern
Production designer: Henry Bumstead, James J. Murakami
Music: Kyle Eastwood, Michael Stevens
Co-producer: Tim Moore
Costume designer: Deborah Hopper
Editors: Joel Cox, Gary D. Roach
Cast:
Gen. Kuribayashi: Ken Watanabe
Saigo: Kazunari Ninomiya
Baron Nishi: Tsuyoshi Ihara
Shimizu: Ryo Kase
Lt. Ito: Shidou Nakamura
Lt. Fujita: Hiroshi Watanabe
Capt. Tanida: Takumi Bando
Nozaki: Yuki Matsuzaki