Introduction
"Those who tell the stories rule
society."— Plato
In the study of World War II, it’s only
natural that each participant country focuses on the heroics of their own
countrymen. England celebrates the year they stood alone against Nazism, Russia
the stand in Stalingrad, and the United States mourns Pearl Harbor.
Less obvious is the perception of the war
among the Axis powers. The Austrians and Germans, shocked and humbled by the Holocaust, made payments to the survivors and banned the Nazi Party and its
literature. Hungary, Romania and East Germany, controlled by Stalin and his
successors, paid large sums in cash and many of their citizens were held for
over a decade. Children learn about Hitler, and there is a
consciousness – of sorts – of the terrible and horrific events of
the Nazi Era.
Less clear is the reaction of Japan to
the war. With the huge area over which the battles were fought, and the
immediate destruction at home, it was easier for Japan to focus on rebuilding
and not on the actions of her soldiers in China and the Pacific. Japan didn’t
make payments to any of the nations she occupied; the Nanjing Massacre isn’t in
their history books; children learn about the B-29 bombings, the Atomic Bombs,
and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of men on New Guinea. But the essential
nature of the war – the militaristic government that used its citizens as
slaves to start a war to dominate Asia for the benefit of a very few – is
not covered.
Many Japanese, especially those that
travel abroad, have understood the complex issues surrounding the Japanese
occupation of Asia, and there is a lot of tension between Japanese rightists
and those who want a full public accounting of what happened.
Not that Japan is alone in this. Just as
the German-Russian Eastern European conflict was a death match between two
powerful opponents, the Pacific War was a bitter racial struggle between the United States and Japan. Atrocities on both sides were so commonplace that they
were an accepted part of war. Medics could not wear identification or they
would be shot; prisoners were tortured and executed on both sides. Marines
taking prisoners on most islands could not be sure if the Japanese soldier was
surrendering or on a suicide mission, so to be safe, many shot everyone down.
This ugliness rarely translates into an
effective screen portrayal. Films made during the war years demonized the enemy
and hero-worshipped the warriors. Later films, from the 1950s on, dealt with
the psychological impact of war but rarely dealt with accurate portrayals of
the violence. It wasn’t until the 1990s that war films began to show intensely
realistic depictions of violence.
Eastwood’s two films, Flags of Our
Fathers and Letters
from Iwo Jima, fall
somewhere between hero-worship and nihilistic/realistic violence; it has
elements of both. What makes it unique is that it’s the first American film I
can think of that completely depicts an enemy of the United States during
wartime in their own language (not including depictions of Civil War
confederates.)
The problem with Letters from Iwo Jima is one of dramatic necessity. In order
to make the story palatable, the characters must be made sympathetic to the
audience. The racism of the Pacific War is subdued; alluded to, but not fully
explored. This provides for complex, emotionally rich characters, but this does
two things: it makes heroes out of Lieutenant General Tadamichi Kuribayashi and
his men, and it takes away their reason for such ardent defense of Iwo Jima:
preventing America from landing in the Japanese Home Islands.
Return to Top
Historical Setting
The island Iwo Jima is approximately 750
miles from Japan. In 1944, as the B-29 campaign was gaining strength; the
Japanese used it as a fighter base and radar station. Because of its geographic
location and the availability of American amphibious units between the invasion
of the Philippines and the planned invasion of Okinawa, the decision was made
to acquiesce to the US Army Air Force’s request to neutralize the island and
turn it into a forward air base for the United States.
Premier Hideki Tojo ordered Tadamichi
Kuribayashi to take command of Iwo Jima on June 8, 1944. It’s likely that
Kuribayashi knew that this would be his final command. He had argued against
attacking the United States, spending 1928-1930 in Washington DC as the deputy
naval attaché. He was well aware of the massive industrial capabilities of the
United States. He was partially aware of the massive losses in ships; aircraft
and personnel the Japanese armed forces had endured up to that point.
Kuribayashi’s predecessor on Iwo Jima,
Lieutenant General Hideyoshi Obata, had planned for a traditional beach defense
and had installed his artillery and machine guns in trenches there. Kuribayashi
realized, as did the Japanese on Peleliu, that the overwhelming American
superiority in machines and men would make any battle an inevitable defeat for
the Japanese. But they longer they held out, the longer the invasion of the
Home Islands would be put off. The High Command, chronically underestimating
the American unity and resolve after Pearl Harbor, believed that if enough
casualties could be inflicted, the Americans would sue for peace. Kuribayashi
ordered his men to dig. By the time the Americans landed a network of tunnels
and caves 11 miles long (17 miles of tunnels were planned) connected bunkers
and caves all over the island. The Japanese found the volcanic ash made
superior concrete. The tunnels were hot because of the volcanic activity, and
they were poorly ventilated and lit. They had multiple exits to prevent men
being trapped in cave-ins or attack. The civilians were evacuated in late 1944.
Kuribayashi, reinforced by Army tanks and Rikusentai Special Naval Landing Forces and units
from nearby Chichi Jima despite the American Navy submarines sinking many
transports, brought Iwo Jima’s strength up to 21,000 men.
As the Americans stepped up bombings
throughout December 1944 and January 1945, the island was denuded of vegetation
and most of the Japanese went underground. The hundreds of anti-aircraft guns
on Iwo encountered by USAAF bomber pilots led them to nickname it “Mount
Sunavabitchi.”
Kuribayashi received word on February 13
from his scout planes that a large American force of 170 ships had left
Saipan. Final preparations were
made, and Kuribayashi extorted his men to kill ten Americans for every one of
their own lives.
The Japanese had 361 artillery pieces of
75 mm or larger caliber, a dozen 320 mm mortars, 65 medium (150 mm) and light
(81 mm) mortars, 33 naval guns 80 mm or larger, and 94 anti-aircraft guns 75 mm
or larger. In addition to this formidable array of large caliber guns, the Iwo
Jima defenses could boast of more than two hundred 20 mm and 25 mm antiaircraft
guns and sixty-nine 37 mm and 47 mm antitank guns. The fire power of the
artillery was further supplemented with a variety of rockets varying from an
eight-inch type that weighed 90 kg and could travel 2–3 km, to a giant
250 kg projectile that had a range of more than 7 km. Altogether, 70 rocket
guns and their crews reached Iwo Jima. The Americans had 16-inch heavy guns on
their battleships, and even the destroyers had five to ten 5-inch guns. All the
ships had 40mm guns that could be employed either in ground fire or against
aircraft.
The landing on Iwo Jima on February 19,
1945, was preceded by three days of heavy caliber fire from the American
battleships and cruisers, but the weight of fire was reduced by sending most of
the fast battleships to bombard targets in Japan itself, a political
counterpart to the emerging B-29 campaign. Older, slower battleships, with
lighter 14-inch guns, and heavy cruisers with 8-inch guns, were substituted for
the original plan of 16-inch gun battleships. The size of the fleet and the
American dominance in air power precluded and reinforcements from reaching
Kuribayashi.
Kuribayashi’s battle plan was
controversial, even among his own men. He allowed the Americans to land on the
beach and build up a sizeable force. With their vehicles stuck in the fine
black sand, and more coming ashore, the beach was crowded with men and machines
an hour into the landing. That’s when the Japanese guns opened up; creating carnage
that was unprecedented among the landing forces in the Pacific. The token
Japanese forces on the beach were extinguished in the first few hours, and the
island was cut in half by the American Marines on the first day. But the
Americans’ gains were not complete; the Japanese tunnel network allowed them to
move from location to location, and to reactivate positions that the Americans
had thought were secure.
Both sides employed artillery
extensively, mercilessly pounding the island. By February 23, Mount Suribachi had fallen except for sporadic sniping
and isolated groups. The American flag was raised on the volcano that day. The
rest of the island took much longer. Using what would later be called
“corkscrew and blowtorch” tactics, tanks, TNT, flamethrowers and artillery was
used to systematically reduce the Japanese positions. The Marines learned to
drop smoke into the tunnels and caves and blast all the ports the smoke came
out of.
The airfield was secured on
February 25; Motoyama Village fell on February 28. The B-29 “Dinah Might”
landed on Iwo Jima on March 4, the airfield still under fire from the
Japanese. The 5th Division advanced up the west coast, encountering heavy resistance, and the 4th Division advanced up the other. The 3rd Division was called in as
reserve. On March 15 Kuribayashi had lost contact with all but 900 of his men.
Half were dead or missing by the next day. Kuribayashi ordered the regimental
colors burned. While the island was declared secure on March 16, Kuribayashi’s
last order to his men on March 17:
1. The
battle situation came to the last moment.
2. I
want my surviving officers and men to go out and attack the enemy tonight.
3. Each
troop! Go out simultaneously at midnight and attack the enemy until the last.
You all have devoted yourself to His Majesty, the Emperor. Don't think of
yourself.
4. I
am always at the head of you all.
To the Imperial
Army General Headquarters, Kuribayashi radioed his apologies to the Emperor and
a poem via Chichi Jima:
My body shall not decay in the field
Unless we are avenged;
I will be born seven more times again
To take up arms against the foe.
My only concern is
Our country in the future
When weeds cover here
On March 21,
Kuribayashi radioed Chichi Jima again:
They [the Americans] advised us to surrender by a loudspeaker, but
we only laughed at this childish trick and did not set ourselves against them.
That same day,
Kuribayashi was promoted to full General, the Naval Officer in charge of the Rikusentai, and Ichimaru to vice admiral, and tank
commander Nishi to full colonel. All of the promotions were considered to be
posthumous.
On March 26, as
the Marine divisions were officially relieved by the US Army’s 147th Infantry Regiment, some 300 surviving Japanese attacked the Northern airfield
at 0515 hours, slashing through tents and killing some men in their sleep. Many
were armed with captured American weapons, and the fighting was intense and
close. Marines, Army, USAAF pilots, and Seabees all grabbed weapons and fought
off the attack, which penetrated to the Army Hospital. Kuribayashi was rumored
to have organized and led the attack. He died in the assault or committed
suicide soon after. Some accounts say he died earlier on March 23 in his
underground command bunker. His body was never found.
The Battle of
Iwo Jima was the largest all-Marine amphibious force in World War II (Okinawa
was a larger amphibious invasion, but was a combined Army-Navy-Marine
operation) and one of the few where American casualties exceeded the Japanese
(26,000 American dead and wounded compared to 18,000 Japanese dead, 2,000
missing, and 1083 prisoners of war.) One in three Americans who fought on Iwo
Jima were casualties. The entire Japanese garrison was annihilated.
Kuribayashi
upset the Allies’ timetable by approximately two weeks, delaying the invasion
of Okinawa to April 1.
Return to Top
The Film
Eastwood’s film is at once
less audacious than Flags of Our
Fathers, and more linear. In my review of Flags, the major problem I had with the film was its
penchant for flashbacks, jumping back and forth through time, leaving the
audience confused as to which character we focusing on and why. Letters has no such problem, being a straight linear story
from Kuribayashi’s arrival on Iwo Jima to his self-inflicted death at the end
of the battle.
This leaves us with a long,
well made, traditional World War II movie in Japanese. I doubt the high
critical praise for the film, and its highly touted Oscar chances, would be
considered if the film was in English. As with Saving Private Ryan and The Longest Day and other noted films, the use of foreign language
adds an element of realism to the movie. However, with Letters of Iwo Jima, the Japanese language may be hard for
American audiences to appreciate. Almost three hours of subtitles left several
of my party with headaches and exhaustion. While I don’t speak Japanese, I am
familiar with many Japanese military terms, and the Japanese speakers in the
audience and I deemed the translation accurate.
Portraying the Japanese
garrison from June 1944 until the end of February 1945, Letters from Iwo
Jima focuses on several real and
fictional characters. I’m at the point in my study of World War II where I need
to learn Japanese in order to progress, but I’m not aware of any English-Language
books that focus on the Japanese on Iwo Jima. The film is based on the oddly
translated title "Picture Letters from Commander in Chief" by Kuribayashi himself, edited by Tsuyoko Yoshido.
Spoilers from
this point forward.
From the
beginning, the communications of the doomed Japanese garrison, with each other and to their loved ones, is the focus of
the film. It opens with an overview of the island circa 2005, with rusting
tanks, guns, and bunker debris. A Japanese team is excavating the caves, and
someone finds something…important. The whole team rushes over to look.
Fade in on June
1944, and Lieutenant General Tadamichi Kuribayashi (Ken Watanabe) lands on Iwo
Jima. Greeted by his subordinates, who have been waiting by the airfield for
hours, he immediately makes a reconnoiter of the entire island. While on tour
he encounters a Captain beating two enlisted men for complaining about the
island’s conditions. One of the men is a composite fictional character named
Saigo (Kazunari Ninomiya) who is the film’s major supporting character. A baker
drafted into the Imperial Japanese Army, he wants nothing more to go home to
his wife and child. He endears himself to his men by ordering the beatings to
stop, and orders the construction of the beach defenses stopped.
Coming to the
conclusion that the beach is conceded to any landings, Kuribayashi orders his
men to dig into the volcanic island. One man dies of dysentery, contracted form
the communal living and the poor water quality. Replacements begin to arrive.
Shimizu is a disgraced Kempeitai (military police)
academy graduate who failed to appropriately terrorize his civilian charges,
and was discharged and sent to Iwo Jima. Also arriving is the celebrity Baron
Takeichi Nishi (Tsuyoshi Ihara) commander of the 26th Tank Regiment.
He also is able to bring his horse, as he is a famous high jumper, who won
medals in the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics. They dig and train for the coming
battle. Kuribayashi evacuates the civilians and over the objections of his
officers (except Nishi) he plans for a protracted battle below ground.
Suspecting that
Shimizu is sent there to spy on them, Saigo and his best friend shun him. They
fig tunnels and soon are under constant air attack. B-24s and Corsairs attack
the island at will, driving the soldiers underground and destroying the
installations above ground. Saigo narrowly avoids death in an air attack, finds
a man dead in a grotesque position. Nishi finds his horse dying in the
devastated corral.
The shelling
abated for the moment, Saigo’s sadistic captain orders him to dump the
battalion latrine outside. The Captain threatens execution if he doesn’t bring
back the latrine intact. Saigo emerges to see a huge American fleet, four or
five times the size of the armada the Japanese rank and file were expecting.
Again he narrowly avoids death when the American Navy opens fire, a small shell
lands next to him and fails to detonate.
Once again underground,
Saigo rejoins his battalion while Kuribayashi activates his plan. With the
American trucks and amtracs packing the beach, Japanese artillery opens fire
and the real battle begins. Saigo’s unit is soon cut off and Colonel Adachi
orders his men to kill themselves as Suribachi falls. Kuribayashi can see the
flag from his command post and orders Adachi to order his remaining men to
retreat. Driven by his training to kill himself in the event of failure of the
Emperor, the Colonel in charge of Suribachi disobeys orders and commits
suicide, ordering his men to do the same. Saigo hears the order to retreat but
brings the order to commit suicide to his captain. One by one, Saigo’s platoon
commits suicide by detonating hand grenades, and he watches his best friend
kill himself. Only Shimizu and Saigo are left, and Saigo runs. Shimizu,
intending to commit suicide himself despite his misgivings, runs after Saigo to
remind him of his duty. Instead, Saigo convinces him that Kuribayashi ordered a
retreat from Suribachi to continue the fight.
As they retreat
through the tunnels, Saigo and Shimizu encounter Japanese soldiers beating and
bayoneting a captured American; see another soldier burned by a flame thrower;
and make a daring night crossing under fire. Saigo shows Shimizu how to
survive, hanging back from the group, until they reach the northern caves.
Lieutanant Ito (Shido Nakamura) then decides to execute them for cowardice,
only to be stopped by Kuribayashi.
Lieutenant Ito
then orders a night attack, only to be countermanded by Baron Nishi. Ito leads
the remaining men of his platoon himself into the open, where he tells them he
will attack a tank and they should return to the caves. He then lies down among
the dead with satchel charges all over himself to detonate when a tank comes
near.
Meanwhile, the
Japanese in the remaining caves engage the Americans with 320mm mortars, artillery,
and machine guns. Baron Nishi shoots an American named Sam, and orders him
brought into the complex. The badly wounded man is terrified, and Nishi orders
the last of the morphine for him and calms him by telling him of his time in
Los Angeles as an Olympian. Sam is comforted, and after Sam dies Nishi reads
the last letter from his mother, making the men realize that the Americans are
a lot like them.
Shimizu,
heartbroken and sick of war, convinces Saigo to try to surrender to the
Americans. Saigo says they should leave one at a time to avoid suspicion.
Shimizyu goes first, but the picket guard, who also wants to desert, realizes
his intentions. They run off as an officer discovers them and shoots the
picket. Saigo cannot follow as the pickets are charged with preventing any more
men from leaving. Shimizu surrenders to the Americans, who are just about to
launch an attack, and he and another POW are left in the care of two Marines.
Because they don’t want to take the POWs back to intelligence at night, and
they don’t want to be separated form their unit, one of the Marines decides to
shoot both POWs. Shimizu dies with his white flag still in his hands.
Nishi is wounded
and the complex must be abandoned as the Americans attack again – the
Japanese have no more ammunition, food or water. Once again the survivors must
make a dangerous journey at night. Led by Lieutenant Okubo (Eijiro Ozaki) they
travel past the bodies of Shimizu and his companion, and Saigo cries for his
friend.
As they reach
the new Japanese front line, they must pass between their own forces and the
Americans who are laying siege to the last bastion, Kuribayashi command post.
Saigo is one of the few men to get into the command post unscathed, while Okubo
and many others are gunned down in the crossfire.
Kuribayashi
greets the men warmly but his adjutant shamefully admits they are out of water
and food. As the men rest, Kuribayashi contemplates his life, especially his
trip to the United States in the 1920s. He remembers a dinner where he received
a M1911 Colt .45 automatic from the Americans in Washington, DC. Saigo
remembers leaving his pregnant wife when he was drafted. She was very upset,
knowing that none of the drafted men have ever come back from the war, and he
misses her and his life with her.
The battle nears
its end. Lieutenant Ito has been lying for what seems like days in a pile of
corpses, seeing the vultures descend on the dead. He decides to stand up and
leaves the satchel charges behind.
Kuribayashi
orders an attack. He recognizes Saigo and decides to save his life again, since
everything happens in threes. Saigo is ordered to burn the command post while
the attack happens. Saigo buries the men’s letter’s that were unable to get off
the island before the invasion. Kuribayashi tells his men the plan and says he
will be out in front. They attack and push deep into the American lines. An
explosion that seriously wounds his legs hits Kuribayashi. For hours his aide
drags him across the remaining Japanese territory, until Kuribayashi cannot go
on and orders ritual beheading. Just as the aide raises his sword, an American
shoots him and Saigo comes out of nowhere to minister to Kuribayashi. Saigo and
Kuribayashi talk about the battle and then the General shoots himself in the
chest with his American pistol. Saigo buries the body and is discovered by an
American patrol. Seeing the General’s pistol in the Lieutenant’s belt as a
souvenir, Saigo decides to attack with his shovel, but is knocked out by the
American Lieutenant. He wakes up on the beach and realizes he has survived.
Sixty years
later, the Japanese archeology team (remember them?) recovers the Letters that Saigo buried. They spill out of the
bag as the team lefts it out of the ground.
Return to Top
Historical
Accuracy
Recreating the
American forces in World War II is hard. Recreating Japanese forces is next to
impossible. After the war, most munitions were destroyed to prevent militarists
from reneging on the surrender and restarting the war. Only one Zero, the
premiere Japanese fighter, is still flying. I doubt if any of the many Japanese
tanks in the film are anything but mockups. The Japanese aircraft seen in the
film were of two types. The first, the Japanese transport used by Kuribayashi
to get to Iwo Jima in the opening, was a modified Lockheed Electra, the same
type of aircraft flown by Amelia Earhart in the 1930s. The others, supposedly
Aichi D3A dive bombers, were heavily modified AT-6 Harvard/Texan/SNJ American
trainers, probably the same ones constructed for Tora! Tora! Tora! In 1970 and
used for Japanese aircraft ever since. The 320mm spigot mortar, while probably somewhat accurate, looked very comical
to me, as if the Japanese bought it from Acme Looney Tunes.
One of the most
troubling aspects of the film was the choice to not deal with the issue of
comfort women. I can’t find any references to comfort women on Iwo Jima, but a
1992 Japan Times article doesn’t list Iwo Jima as a “comfort women” base. Given
the size of the garrison and the presence of civilians until the end of 1944,
it’s likely Japanese, Chinese and/or Korean sex slaves were forced to service
the Japanese soldiers, either on Iwo Jima or en route to Iwo Jima. There were
Korean labor units on the island throughout the battle, and I think I read
years ago that the comfort women were evacuated before the battle. With as many
as 200,000 women forced into prostitution, having sex with a dozen to forty men
each day, forced abortions, kidnappings, rape, and torture on a daily basis, it
is odd that Eastwood choose not to deal with this issue. Perhaps because of his
need to film on Iwo Jima itself, he choose not to deal with the forced
prostitution issue so that he didn’t offend the Japanese politicians from whom
he needed permission to film on Iwo Jima.
The rock and sand
on Iwo Jima was very hot, due not only to the climate, but also due to the
volcanic nature of the island. They were dark, stinky caves that smelled of
sulfur – in fact, one of the American translations of the name of Iwo
Jima called it Sulfur Island. Many of them were low enough that the Japanese
had to crouch to access the tunnel. 20,000 men were packed into 11 miles of
tunnels, many not accessible to the Americans until the Japanese chose to
reveal them. US Army troops stumbled upon the field hospital of the 2d Mixed
Brigade, located 100 feet underground on eastern Iwo Jima, in April 1945. The
Japanese survivors voted sixty-nine to three to surrender, and one of the
outvoted committed suicide. Yet in the film, the caves and tunnels seem almost
palatial compared to the reality. Only once is vermin shown in the film, when
rats and mice, flies and spiders and much more were a constant presence. None
of the soldiers complain about the sulfur stench or pass out digging in the hot
tunnels. They are well lit (only some tunnels were lit at all) and many are
shown to have speaker systems, when only a few were wired, and I assume some of
those were knocked out of commission during the bombing and shelling and
fighting. Plus, the generators would have built up carbon monoxide and other
toxic gases, while their exhausts would have been seen topside. I’m sure the
Japanese solved or partially solved some of these issues, but I would have been
interested in how they did that. However, the tunnels seem to magically appear,
as if Kuribayashi, said, “Dig!” and the whole tunnel complex appeared.
Certainly some of that was due to the need to get to the main event of the
film, the invasion itself, but that’s what montages were created for.
Less objective
is the portrayal of the Japanese soldiers. War is a complicated thing, and even
though I have studied World War II my whole life, I don’t think warfare can be
conveyed through any means of communication except direct experience. Letters from Iwo Jima is a very complicated approach to
military filmmaking; on the one hand it's a standard war film, tracking a
platoon from inception to destruction, like Stalingrad, Battleground or Halls of Montezuma. However, it’s a Japanese platoon, and
they aren’t the epitome of evil in this movie, they are just confused and
ignorant, or scared and homesick. So on one hand, this movie is just a standard
war movie with typical stereotypes (the coward, the loner, the psycho, the dead
meat, the noble warrior) translated into Japanese.
But because it’s
in Japanese, about the American enemy, it’s more complicated than just a simple
war movie. As John Dower writes, “…official consecration of anti-Japanese
racism was profoundly symbolic: if every man, woman, and child on the western
coasts of the Americas was categorically identified by the highest quarters as
a potential menace simply because of his or her ethnicity, then the real
Japanese enemy abroad could only be perceived as a truly faceless, monolithic,
incorrigible, and stupendously formidable foe.” The Japanese saw the Americans in much the same light; after
the battle, the Japanese newspapers informed the public, “Enemy plans to wipe
Japan and the Japanese people off the face of the earth are no propaganda
manifestations…” The Americans considered the Japanese vermin to be
exterminated. The Japanese considered the Americans to be cowards, inferior in
fighting spirit to the Japanese warrior, and whatever the material superiority
the Allies held, the Japanese fighting spirit would be enough to overcome it.
This combination
of warrior ethos and unabashed racism had some interesting consequences for the
Japanese armed forces during World War II. The film touches on these problems,
but never deals with them squarely. Characters like Lieutenant Ito, the
Captain, and Colonel Adachi, who seek death in battle or offer their life for
the Emperor, are treated as the exception, somewhat mad for their pursuit of
death. The noble Japanese characters – Saigo, Kuribayashi, and Baron
Nishi – seem to regard them as evil or demented. Surely there were such
Japanese on the island; surely they were noble warriors among them; just as
surely they were the minority. The average Japanese soldier was terrified,
probably under-trained, certainly undervalued. They knew that if they failed to
hold the Americans at Iwo Jima, the Home Islands, their wives and girlfriends,
their children, would be the next target. If you look at the statistics –
out of 1083 POWs captured on Iwo Jima, 867 surrendered after the island was
declared secure and the Army took over combat on March 26. In other words, out
of 18,000 defenders killed in major combat between February 19 and March 26,
only 216 surrendered, or 1.2% were incapacitated or injured or voluntarily
surrendered. Now, these statistics cannot take into account the men who were
ordered or executed by their commanders, but still, 98.8% died defending the
island. It’s impossible to ignore that the garrison of Iwo Jima was highly
motivated to kill Americans, and discounting propaganda, their motivation was
to protect hearth and home.
Americans often
discuss the virulent opposition of the Japanese in the later part of the war
while discounting their own fighting men’s extreme sacrifices in the early days
of World War II. While certainly not on the level of having entire garrisons
exterminated, American and Allied fighting men committed suicide trying to stop
the Japanese. On December 10, 1941, USAAC Captain Colin P. Kelly was reported
to have rammed his B-17 into the battleship IJN Haruna off of the Philippines;
after the war it turned out that he had crashed on landing and exploded after
an attack on cruiser IJN Ashigara. USMC Captain Richard E. Fleming deliberately
crashed his SB2U Vindicator into IJN Mikuma on June 5, 1942. The Japanese,
despite their gains, were stunned by such examples of suicide, and some
officers began to question their assumptions about the Americans. But popular
American analysis of late war battles seem to dwell on the traditional belief
that Japanese soldiers were motivated by robotic devotion to the Emperor,
rather than a zeal to prevent a landing in the Home Islands. Letters from Iwo Jima does take pains to humanize the Japanese
defenders by connecting them with their families at home, and the motivation to
defend the homeland is certainly mentioned. Bu the film takes this theme and
sets it aside after setting it up, choosing instead to focus on the absurdity
and uselessness of war. After the Americans land, no mention of holding the
Americans on Iwo Jima is made again. The battle, mostly seen through homesick
Saigo’s eyes, is a series of attempts to avoid combat, to survive rather than
engage the enemy.
This has angered
some viewers. However, I think the film is more complicated than simple
anti-American jingoism. If we look at both of Eastwood’s World War II movies,
they are companions to each other, with stories overlapping and started in one
and finished in the other. In Flags of Our
Fathers, the Japanese are never seen except
briefly and in shadow; in Letters from Iwo Jima, several American characters not only
appear, but they have speaking roles. Certainly this was a Hollywood convention
to make a foreign language picture more palatable to American audiences, but it
also has what I think is an unintended effect. The atrocity that the Japanese
commit on Ralph Ignatowski in Flags of Our
Fathers isn’t seen. While a character that could
be Ignatowski is beaten and bayoneted in Letters from Iwo Jima, neither film shows what happened to
him: his arms were broken, he was beaten beyond recognition, and either while
he was still alive or after death, his penis was removed and stuffed into his
mouth. Another Marine, an officer, was tied up and then burned with a captured
flamethrower. But we don’t see that onscreen in either of the two films. What
we do see is American Marines choosing to execute two prisoners, and Americans
inflicting horrific casualties in Letters of Iwo Jima while the Japanese ability to inflict 26,000
American casualties seems to pass without much notice.
While Flags of Our
Fathers had a
large budget, and the budget of Letters from Iwo Jima is clearly in the millions, it’s also
clear that Letters doesn’t have the expansive three-dimensional graphics that Flags does. Some of the effects shots were
recycled from Flags, while others were created for this film. I’m not a fan of extensive
three-dimensional effects for recreating World War II, because effects artists,
while making steady advances in technology, seem to mix in some elements that
seem to scream, “See! We made this amazing shot on a computer!!” that instantly
takes me out of the realism of the film. Letters from Iwo Jima is no exception; the 3D graphics are very pronounced and
noticeable, as they were in Flags of Our
Fathers. In today’s world, there’s no way to
create large battle fleets without computer graphics; using tarps to cover
modern missile launchers as they did in Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor just doesn’t work. However, there are
several working World War II cargo ships, including one in San Francisco. I
would have liked more realistic shots of equipment using existing museums over
the computer-generated graphics.
As in Flags of Our
Fathers, Eastwood
doesn’t strive for the hot combat recreations that Spielberg chose to include
in Saving Private Ryan. I found the combat in both Flags of Our
Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima rather subdued. If anything, it is more
intense in Letters than Flags. Modern
war often doesn’t have neat gunshot wounds where the victim keels over dead.
There are more realistic depictions of the trauma of combat in Letters, but it’s more of the vein of horror
films than the emotionally traumatizing Saving Private Ryan. A Japanese soldier has his arm
traumatically amputated; several soldiers are exploded with computer graphics
and hand grenades. Yet, like Flags, there’s a detachment that interfered from the emotional impact.
Eastwood, in his reverence for all the men in this battle, seems to be
unwilling or unable to bring the audience to the emotional gut punch of
Spielberg’s film. That’s a problem in a movie that’s almost three hours long.
While the claustrophobia of the tunnels is only touched upon, I certainly felt
it by the end of the film, and while it’s an interesting movie (especially for
a World War II history student like me) it seemed too long even for me. The
people in the audience with me who were not Japanese speakers or war historians
were less than pleased with the length. Part of that is a burgeoning trend of
blockbusters to be three hours regardless of whether the story needs it, but
their were stories of Iwo Jima that went untold that would have been more
interesting, like how the Japanese still alive on Mount Suribachi reacted when
the flag was raised. The Japanese left alive on Suribachi on February 23, 1945
could have wiped out the first patrol, since they were numerically superior at
that time. Instead, they chose to attack sporadically only when the first flag
was raised, and then they were blasted with satchel charges that collapsed the
cave exits and left scores, perhaps hundreds, of them entombed. We know how the
Americans on the island and the fleet offshore reacted to the flag, but I’m
stunned that Eastwood choose to show only Kuribayashi’s reaction from the far
end of the island. In Flags of Our
Fathers, Japanese come out of the caves and tunnels to snipe at the
first flag raisers, but what those men thought and said when the flag went up
goes unimagined by Eastwood in Letters from Iwo Jima.
In fact, while I
think the highly flawed but still interesting Flags of Our
Fathers could have stood on its own for the
stories Bradley wrote about, both movies could be intertwined in a much more
interesting way that Eastwood obviously choose to ignore. Rather than a direct Rashomon-like telling of the Battle of Iwo Jima,
he has two movies that at once complement each other but stand alone on their
own merits and faults.
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Conclusion
Letters from Iwo Jima is the better of the two films, despite
being a more traditional war story, because the flashback-heavy Flags of Our
Fathers is too
disjointed to tell a cohesive story. Letters form Iwo Jima doesn’t deserve the
critical praise it’s receiving, because at heart it is a simple war film with
the traditional stereotypes, but because its subject is the little-known and
often misunderstood Japanese enemy, it’s worthy of attention from the average
American as well as military history students. I recommend the film, even
though that may not be clear from this review, because it’s an interesting
perspective, even though I have issues with many of the film’s core values.
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Announcements
1/25/06 Letters from Iwo Jima is nominated for four Oscars.
Best Achievement in Directing
Clint Eastwood
Best Achievement in Sound Editing
Alan Robert Murray
Best Motion Picture of the Year
Clint Eastwood
Steven Spielberg
Robert Lorenz
Best Writing, Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen
Iris Yamashita (screenplay/story)
Paul Haggis (story)
The Academy Awards are on February 25th.
8/15/06 The first trailer, from Japan, in a combination with Flags of Our Fathers is available. The Japanese title is "Letters from Iwo Jima."
5/15/06 Ken Watanabe gave an interview to MacClean’s about Red Sun, Black Sand in which he hopes this film can educate young Japanese.
"As we went through this film we realized that, until now, we haven't really looked at Japan's past. We kind of looked away from it," Watanabe said. "But we have to look at it and accept the fact that this is what our fathers and grandfathers have actually done. Accepting the reality is the first step,"
3/10/06 IMdB is reporting the cast to be Tsuyoshi Ihara, Ryo Kase,
Shido Nakamura, Kazunari Ninomiya and Ken Watanabe. Watanabe is rumored playing Japanese General Tadamichi Kuribayashi. The title has been changed to Red Sun, Black Sand.
Watanabe is a great choice to play Kuribayashi. I'm more excited about this movie than Flags of Our Fathers.
12/6/05 Eastwood has announced this companion to Flags of Our Fathers. This movie, scheduled to be released a few months after FoOF, will focus on the Japanese point of view of Iwo Jima.
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