Flags Of Our Fathers

A co-worker screens movies as part of her job, and she asked me to join her for "Flags Of Our Fathers" Tuesday night. Awesome movie.

I possess an embarrassingly small amount of knowledge of the two world wars, so this movie taught me plenty about Iwo Jima. The film's purpose, however, wasn't to teach about the battle on the island, but about the history behind the famous photograph. So I learned about both the battle and the picture. A World War II-fer, if you will.

Anyway, the movie itself was the appetizer, because the surprising main course came after the credits rolled when Anne and I had the privilege to meet a man who fought at Iwo Jima. An incredibly nice and charming man, whose name I didn't catch, told us that he thought the movie was quite realistic and even better than "The Sands Of Iwo Jima." He said Clint Eastwood left nothing out but added only little. The part where a Marine was sliced up by his Japanese enemies and hung on a wall inside a dark cavern, with his own penis stuffed in his mouth? That really happened, the veteran told us. Fortunately, Eastwood, unafraid to show us some up-close blood, used discretion on this part.

And how about Ryan Phillippe? I wasn't crazy about his 90s pretty-boy persona, but I liked him in "Crash" two years ago and he was excellent again as Marine John Bradley in "Flags." No wonder he's in three movies scheduled for 2007 releases, and will play Picasso in a 2008 biopic.

I haven't seen many movies since I've been up here, but this fall seems to be offering plenty of options, so hopefully I'll have something again soon.