War is hell. And in Clint Eastwood's bruising, mostly solid Flags of Our Fathers, it's extremely complicated, often ripping into the psychological fabric of America, questioning who we are and the means to our ends.

In February 1945, an American flag was raised on Iwo Jima, a 5-mile-wide island 660 miles south of Tokyo, to cheers from the tens of thousands of U.S. invaders as World War II neared its horrific end. Moments later, the flag was taken down after a big shot instantly proclaimed his desire to have the icon for his wall.

Then, with virtually no fanfare or recognition, a replacement flag was raised. A news photo was snapped.

Within days, that photograph became America's symbol of patriotism, and the men who lifted the second flag --- the three of the six who survived the battle on Iwo Jima --- became instant, and in some cases unwilling, heroes. They were sent home to receive thunderous adoration across the country and, through a public relations campaign that purposefully ignored much of the truth, were required to shill for war contributions.

"Flags" follows that story with as much fervor and wide-eyed dedication as Eastwood spends meticulously chronicling the more than month-long battle for Iwo Jima, an invasion that left thousands of bodies mangled and mutilated on the black-sand island.