In the Valley of Elah

At the outset of Paul Haggis’ In the Valley of Elah, a Tennessee gravel hauler is driving his flatbed by a local school when he spies a janitor hanging the United States flag upside-down. So he stops his truck, walks across the lawn, and explains in gruff, calm tones what a flipped flag means: “It’s a distress signal,” he says. There’s irony here, and fairly heavy foreshadowing, since the gravel-voiced man rivals the banner as an American icon. He is played by Tommy Lee Jones, and the actor has never looked more grave and battle-worn than he does in this movie. The rings under his eyes look like they were chiseled with an awl; he gives off the inconsolable air associated with photos of Abraham Lincoln at the close of the Civil War. He’s signaling distress, and his life hasn’t even been overturned yet.

Of all the commanding performances Jones has delivered in a fine career, this may be his best—searching for his AWOL soldier son, he travels so completely into grief that he never needs to provide an actorly demonstration. The movie needs him, though. In the Valley of Elah wants to be a Deer Hunter for a new quagmire, but instead it plays as a very special episode of Law&Order (complete with Charlize Theron as Jill Hennessy, 1993-96). It’s certainly ripped from the headlines: The murderer is revealed to be…The War. As the first drama to explicitly address Iraq, Elah feels designed to appeal to theoretical heartland audiences who have turned against the Bush cadre and want to see their worst fears confirmed. (Our soldiers visit titty bars! Our soldiers torture! Our soldiers have lost their souls!)

This naiveté rings false, and it smells suspiciously of Haggis. Elah is the director’s best work by far—its mournful tone easily surpasses the cheap coincidences of Crash—but it confirms Paul Haggis as the Stanley Kramer of his generation. But that might be an insult to Kramer: At least Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner openly billed itself as a social-problem picture. As both director and screenwriter, Haggis keeps playing hide-the-ball with his messages, using characters as disguises for a third-act sermon. Crash taught us that everyone is a little bit racist. Million Dollar Baby explained that, sometimes, euthanasia is a painful but brave choice. The Last Kiss preached that treating the people you love with kindness is more important than saying you love them. Considering this track record, how much do you want to bet that Elah ends with somebody hanging a flag upside-down? The movie takes its title from the biblical story of David and Goliath, a tale that Jones tells with warmth and simplicity. But it’s indicative of the movie as a whole: Whenever you see a film by Paul Haggis, you know you’re in for a Sunday-school lesson. R. AARON MESH. Cedar Hills, Eastport, Fox Tower.