In 2006, director Paul Haggis struck Oscar gold with Crash, a unique brand of hot-button tragedy porn that reduced race in America to a glamorized, sanctimonious mess. So it's only logical that his next Academy Award-ready ensemble cast film would tackle Iraq. But this time, though the buttons are hot and the hand is heavy, the topic is given a bit more dignity, and the suffering is thankfully uncoated with gloss.

Part of the reason it works this time is that the story is grounded in reality. Haggis, who also wrote the screenplay, based the film on a 2004 Playboy article by Mark Boal about the disappearance of a young soldier recently returned from Iraq. While the director tidied up a few strings (the actual soldier, Specialist Richard Davis, was half-Filipino, while the movie version is a corn-fed Jonathan Tucker), he captures many of Boal's details beautifully, particularly the bleak Spartanism of Army life.

Tommy Lee Jones steals the show as retired Army Sergeant Hank Deerfield, who marches through his son's death with precise stoic agony. After getting the call that his son has gone AWOL, he tosses a few curt words to his wife (Susan Sarandon) and heads to Fort Rudd to investigate. Of course the news is bad, and once the boy's mangled body is found, the film spirals into classic murder-mystery territory, where a seamy underbelly is inevitably exposed.

Sarandon dominates her one major scene, snapping the head off a lieutenant (the underused Jason Patric), who makes a pitiful attempt at condolences as she views her son's remains. A de-glammed Charlize Theron is serviceable as the detective who assists Jones (though the notion that a New Mexico policewoman pronounces Iraq "Ear- rock" is a stretch). While it's not entirely clear what the film is trying to be, Haggis does get one message across: Suffering and misery aren't always Thandie Newton or Matt Dillon pretty.—Melissa Lafsky