Paul Haggis, the co-writer and director of the volatile Crash, essays the toll of the Iraq war in In the Valley of Elah.

That premise suggests horrific combat scenes and explosive emotions among a range of characters, all caught with the intense close-ups and jerky editing rhythms that propelled Crash.

Yet Haggis’ new film, which is set almost entirely stateside, is slow, somber and discreetly framed. It takes its cue from its central character, a retired Army sergeant who served in the military police and for whom ironclad control is first nature.

Tommy Lee Jones pours his underspoken authority into the painful role of Hank Deerfield, an unapologetic patriot who will interrupt an important errand to see that an incorrectly displayed American flag is flown properly.

Hank and his wife, Joan (Susan Sarandon), lost their older son in a helicopter crash several years ago. Now a phone call alerts Hank that his younger son, Mike, has recently returned from a tour in Iraq but is absent without leave.

Unable to contact Mike or pull strings from a distance, Hank travels to his son’s base to investigate. He is accorded the respect due a veteran but receives only puzzled shrugs from Mike’s squad members. Hank retraces his son’s recent steps but gets nowhere.

Before long, though, burned body parts are discovered in a field and identified as Mike’s. The Army and the local police toss jurisdiction into each other’s laps (the scene of the crime was municipal property until the Army recently bought it), prompting a concerned police detective, Emily Sanders (Charlize Theron), to begin looking into the issues that Hank raises.

In the Valley of Elah — named for the biblical setting of David’s victory over Goliath, as related by Hank to Emily’s young son — uses a murder mystery to explore the psychic wounds brought back from a war zone by people who might have done things too horrible to face, much less share with a parent whose career was built on a firm concept of military honor.

Jones carries the film by blending Hank’s confident strength with a father’s heartsickness about what has happened to his son and how much of a role his expectations might have played in his son’s tragedy.

That suggests a political argument, but Haggis’ film avoids debate over the wisdom of our involvement in Iraq and the daunting mission our troops have been asked to tackle. This could be a drama played out in any war in which innocence and civility are inevitable casualties.

For all of Haggis’ admirable control, the film is often slow because it avoids the easy narrative shortcuts of the standard thriller. The father and the detective aren’t comfortable allies; the wife left at home has bitter issues to lay at her husband’s feet.

The film is disquieting in subtle ways that Crash never was. It provides a vivid message for everyone who never wore a uniform into combat: No one returns from war unharmed.

Source: columbusdispatch.com