When I watch films like In the Valley of Elah, understanding that it more or less flopped at the box office, I worry about the state of American audiences. While plenty of Iraq War-themed fiction and non-fiction works have trickled into multiplexes over the last few bloody years, moviegoers have largely stayed away, particularly just as filmmakers are beginning to really peel back the war's layers, exploring the long-range cultural, emotional and global impact our actions in the Middle East will have after we're gone. Writer/director Paul Haggis, whose overbearing, didactic work often drives me up the wall, snagged me here, holding me captivated with his sobering, searching masterwork In the Valley of Elah. It's one of the most troubling, enraging films yet made about the sacrifice our country is making on a daily basis, and why we don't seem to have yet fully grasped just what we're doing to our young men and women.

Originally developed as a vehicle for Clint Eastwood (he would've been an ill fit), In the Valley of Elah has its roots in reality. Writer/director Haggis loosely adapted his screenplay from the events surrounding the death of soldier Richard Davis, whose post-Iraq life ended in a similar fashion to that of Mike Deerfield (Jonathan Tucker) in the film. It's a harrowing, sickening episode, but one that underscores the numbed nature of some of our soldiers in uniform.

The film, which takes that tongue-tying title from the Bible (Elah is the valley where David and Goliath faced off), focuses on Hank Deerfield (Tommy Lee Jones, so much more shattering here than in No Country for Old Men, and for which he earned an Oscar nomination) and his search to uncover the truth about what happened to his son, Mike. Leaving behind his long-suffering wife Joan (Susan Sarandon, in a glorified cameo) and enlisting the help of the reluctant Detective Emily Sanders (Charlize Theron), Hank pieces together the last few hours of his son's life, discovering that a band of brothers doesn't quite have the bond that it used to.

You can't really say more without ruining the precise nature of Haggis' procedural/domestic drama -- it's a fusion that works well, simply because the filmmaker doesn't force either aspect. In the Valley of Elah unfolds methodically, underscoring the more mundane aspects of the narrative with a potent political fury that fairly scorches the screen during the final shot. I'm puzzled by what, exactly, audiences didn't respond to -- was it the performance of Tommy Lee Jones? The unsettling thought that soldiers returning from duty in Iraq might have unresolved issues? The unrelenting solemnity of the film? What could possibly stymie this handsome, star-studded prestige project in terms of financial or critical success?

Perhaps it's just too early, the idea too unsettling, for Americans to objectively appreciate politically charged dramas about the war in Iraq. As the economy begins to crater, the (for now) somewhat stable conflict isn't headlining the news every night and so our minds aren't focused on the bloodshed in the Middle East. But In the Valley of Elah seems to argue that we mustn't forget these young men and women being shipped to the desert for a task that can cripple emotionally as well as physicially. We haven't yet begun to reckon with the scars inflicted by this protracted siege and Haggis suggests that perhaps it's never too soon to do so.

The Video:

Photographed by ace lensman Roger Deakins, In the Valley of Elah is predictably gorgeous and thankfully, its 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer preserves his breathtaking work. There's nary a flaw to be spotted, with lots of rich color, crisp black levels and a smooth, film-like appearance. A very clean, vivid image that does not disappoint.

The Dolby Digital 5.1 track has a few moments to shine -- particularly during the handful of Iraq sequences -- but mostly it conveys anguished dialogue and mournful score with no fuss. Clear and immersive without distorting or dropping out, it's a fine aural representation. Optional French and Spanish Dolby Digital 5.1 tracks are included, as are optional English, French and Spanish subtitles.

The middling box office performance is reflected in the perfunctory supplements: A single, two-part ("After Iraq" and "Coming Home"), making-of documentary (presented in anamorphic widescreen) that runs for 42 minutes, 59 seconds and an additional scene (presented in non-anamorphic widescreen) that runs for seven minutes, 47 seconds is all she wrote. Given the potent backstory for Haggis' film, one would think a few more bonus features could be wrangled. Guess not.

When I watch films like In the Valley of Elah, understanding that it more or less flopped at the box office, I worry about the state of American audiences. Writer/director Paul Haggis, whose overbearing, didactic work often drives me up the wall, snagged me here, holding me captivated with his sobering, searching masterwork In the Valley of Elah. It's one of the most troubling, enraging films yet made about the sacrifice our country is making on a daily basis, and why we don't seem to have yet fully grasped just what we're doing to our young men and women. The dearth of bonus features is unfortunate, but the power and emotion of the film is worth the price of admission. Highly recommended.