Movie review: 'Stop-Loss' shows patriotism -- and pain

With its dual focus on war in Iraq and conflict in American soldiers' hometowns, "Stop-Loss" may be the most morally complicated film about warfare and its aftermath since "The Deer Hunter." The film follows a close-knit group of servicemen from chaotic violence in an urban battlefield to the languid rhythms of rural Texas. Yet the tension scarcely slackens, merely burrowing deeper and threatening to erupt.

In the film, young Sgt. Brandon King (Ryan Philippe), in his second tour of duty, leads his men into an ambush firefight against snipers in an Iraqi housing complex. The harrowing skirmish that follows leaves several of his men dead or gravely wounded, and a high toll of civilians alongside the enemy gunmen.

Brandon is a patriot and a conscientious leader, but he struggles with his feelings toward duty and combat and a case of survivor's guilt. With his brother-in-arms and best friend Steve Shriver (beefy Channing Tatum), he's chagrined to receive a hero's welcome-home parade in little Brazos. The cheering crowd's visions of glory are a far cry from the grunt's-eye-view that Brandon and his men have shared.

Steve, too, has trouble leaving the war behind, digging a foxhole in his yard, behavior that understandably troubles his fiancée, Michelle (Abbie Cornish). Another returned soldier, Tommy Burgess (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), unable to disengage his warrior mind-set after his service, is descending into alcoholic brawling, using the unopened wedding gifts he and his wife received for target practice.

Brandon snaps when he's snagged by the stop-loss policy, which the military invokes to retain soldiers beyond their expected term. Told he must return to Iraq for a third tour, he deserts the Army base and decides to run for Canada. Steve is dismayed by his decision, and by Michelle's decision to help him.

The story steers away from clichés and political polemics, maintaining a tone of unflinching emotional realism. The movie creates its characters with love and detail. Brandon, a genuine patriot stressed beyond his limits, wants simple justice, a concept he and his superior officers define differently.

Cinematographer Chris Menges ("The Killing Fields") and editor Claire Simpson ("Platoon") give the film a rough-edged beauty and irresistible momentum. Kimberly Peirce, a strong actor's director, gets terrific performances out of her supporting cast. The wonderful Irish actor Ciaran Hinds, cast as Brandon's father, probably doesn't speak 20 words, but Peirce finds every complicated emotion she needs in his interesting, baggy face.

She draws distinctively different colors from every member of her ensemble, though they all suffer the common problem of readjusting to civilian life. She allows each character to hold their convictions without undermining them or making them into soapbox orators.

The film's condemnation of war isn't Iraq-specific. It's antiwar in a more general way, because it sends idealistic boys into harm's way, but it embraces the brawl-and-banter camaraderie of military life and the basic loyalty of men trying to keep their buddies alive.

Peirce's feelings are never in doubt: She detests war but honors the warriors.

Colin Covert • 612-673-7186