As just about every observer notices, the several movies about the Iraq invasion, whatever the critical reaction, all performed poorly at the box office. The administration's censorship, together with the compliance of the media, prevent Americans from seeing any image of a dead soldier, or even a photograph of those flag-draped coffins, which sanitizes the conflict, negating for most any sense of loss and tragedy. Most Americans, including the vociferous supporters of the invasion, would simply rather ignore the combat in the Middle East, a situation that apparently dooms motion pictures.

After the commercial failures of "In the Valley of Elah," "The Kingdom," "Lions for Lambs," and "Rendition," it probably required courage for Kimberley Peirce to make "Stop-Loss," a picture addressing the conflict in Iraq through a practice that nobody in the government or the media seems willing to discuss. The title refers to what now constitutes the "back door draft," the involuntary extension of the enlistments of soldiers due to leave an army that all its leaders - except for the alleged commander in chief - characterize as depleted, overcommitted, and war-weary.

The movie concentrates on one soldier, Sergeant Brandon King (Ryan Phillippe), who returns from combat to his home town of Brazos, Texas, a decorated hero. Naturally happy to be home, looking only for the opportunity to restart his life, Brandon initially witnesses, then experiences himself the now familiar phenomenon of post-traumatic stress disorder. The men who came home with him, one of them his best friend Steve (Channing Tatum), exhibit symptoms of depression, anxiety, and anger; they drink heavily, act out violently, even repeat some combat behaviors, like sleeping in foxholes and brandishing their weapons.

In addition to the guilt he himself feels for killing innocents and leading men to death, Brandon discovers that, instead of ending his military service, the army extends his term in order to send him back to Iraq. After confronting his commanding officer and refusing the order, he escapes from custody and goes AWOL. He plans to drive to Washington to meet with his senator, who promised him at his medal ceremony that he would always be available for assistance.

Now a fugitive, Brandon enlists the aid of Steve's girlfriend Michele (Abbie Cornish), who accompanies him on his quixotic quest, in part because of her anger at Steve's decision to re-enlist and once again put off their marriage. Most of the movie shows their desperate journey, one jump ahead of the law, through a string of dreary Southern cities, stopping in a series of squalid motels, toward a most confused idea of salvation. The senator of course refuses to deal with the problem, which finally convinces them to travel to New York to meet a lawyer who creates new identities for soldiers who desert to Canada.

Perhaps because of their sustained cheerleading for the invasion over the last several years and their culpability in this endless war, the media have provided a warm pre-release welcome for the movie, but I doubt that the hype will measurably improve its chances at the box office. Despite its entirely admirable examination of a deplorable practice, "Stop-Loss" rarely transcends the solemn didacticism of its director.

Although the film frequently shows flashbacks of Brandon's experience in combat and his reactions to the problems of the men he commanded, it seldom generates much convincing emotion, with the exception of Brandon's devastating visit to one of his squad who has lost an arm, a leg, and his eyesight. Aside from a clever, subtle visual indication of Brandon's final decision, it also tends to plod along on the surface of its action, repeating scenes of the journey to Washington, and returning constantly to Brandon's buddies back in Brazos, drinking beer and shooting at the empty bottles, only a short distance from the rural sport of cow tipping.

The one-note emotional tone of the movie provides few chances for the actors themselves to suggest anything like subtlety or depth, perfectly in keeping with the limitations of the stolid, impassive Ryan Phillippe. The plight of the returned soldier, a major subject in fiction and film since World War I, still needs the kind of treatment it once received in the fiction of writers like Hemingway, Faulkner, and Remarque, and a film like "The Best Years of Our Lives." 

Stop-Loss

(R), directed by Kimberley Peirce

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