It takes a while to sort out our disappointment about some things, and the film “Letters from Iwo Jima” is one of those things for me, though admittedly an uneasy one. Even after the Oscar ceremonies and reading the various critiques of the film, the wide acclaim it received and continues to receive it continued to be disappointing to me. While watching it again on TV the other night I decided to write about some of the reasons for this.

“They Were Expendable” was praised for its verisimilitude, but it came out after the war was over. Had it been shown in theaters during the war the propaganda value of the film would have been enormous. As it is, the film continues to tug at the heartstrings of those of us who lived the era of WWII, but we know how much more it would have meant had it played in theaters during the war years and cannot help wishing this had been the case. It doesn’t matter so much to me that some say it was one of John Wayne’s finest performances, what matters is the timing of the film, wishing it had come out in 1942 or 1943.

Not that we were lacking in some really good and very successful propaganda films during the war, even some really good films that did not propagandize. But if ever a film missed its proper place due to timing, TWE is definitely one of those films. And it is one source of disappointment for me about LFIJ. In my opinion, the film missed its timing. Whether possible or not it should have been made at least ten years or more earlier, a time when memory would have served better in making such a film.

I very well recall V-E Day, but it was V-J Day in August of 1945 that stands out in my mind most vividly. People were running out in the street shouting, bells and horns were sounding, and shortly after LIFE would have the cover photo taken August 14 of that sailor kissing a nurse “The Smack Seen Round the World.”

It’s a well known phrase, “Timing is everything.” And this is especially true of films. Since my mother was in Pearl Harbor at the time of the attack by the Japanese, a shell exploding in her kitchen and wounding her, Remember Pearl Harbor has a special significance for me; significance not expected of those who did not lose someone or have a loved one injured in the attack. For those of us who lived the years of WWII the era has a significance we would not expect it to have for those that did not share this experience.

The making of LFIJ was a tremendous effort, enhanced by some few remaining who lived the events and the memoirs of those that had died. But part of my disappointment in the film was that in spite of the heroic effort to make it real, it did not pass the test for me. Over-acted in many parts, and too contrived in some others it seemed to me the praise heaped upon the film was only what one would expect of Hollywood about such a film, not a genuine reflection of its merit. And to watch those precious letters at the end being dumped unceremoniously onto the dirt floor of a cave was totally out of synch with what the film purported to be. After all, the very title of the film enshrined such letters and demanded they be treated reverently, as a pearl of great price. A bad score can ruin an otherwise good film, and so can a bad ending. The ending of LFIJ reminded me of Humphrey Bogart’s disastrous glance straight into the camera at the very end of “Key Largo,” only much more so in the case of watching those letters fall to the dirt in a cave.

I understand why some would argue the point with me and I can certainly appreciate their point of view. I believe Clint Eastwood as a superb director wanted this very kind of ending and I can appreciate it, but I can only describe my own reaction to such an ending of the film as I have stated it along with my other disappointments in the film. A book is published and too late the author wishes they hadn’t used some word or phrase, perhaps they discover some egregious error and it is too late to correct it. Just so with films, and few look at their finished work declaring it entirely satisfactory; but some authors find they have written better than they knew, and some films have been successful thought to be of no account. However, I don’t think the artist ever lived believing they had done their best work, the creative soul and mind of the real artist is like the Hound of Heaven, refusing to stop snapping at the heels of those driven to do better, and better, never satisfied because they know they can do better. Such a thing can become a relentless taskmaster.

But it isn’t easy at times to understand our disappointments about many things, whether artists or not; and even more difficult to sort out such things and make the attempt to give them written expression or even express them verbally. Perhaps we may be disappointed by a loved one forgetting something we felt was important, but how to express such disappointment can be very difficult. And we know words spoken in anger may be softened, even forgiven by a sincere apology. But how dreadful for a loved one to pass away without ever hearing the things we wish had been said, and how often such things are within the realm of our inability at times to properly express our disappointments about someone we love. And then suddenly, they are gone and we may find all the proper words coming to mind too late.

Some will doubtless disagree with my disappointment in LFIJ, feeling it unjustified. But there will be some who agree, and perhaps some of these will be artists. Though like many disappointments of life some of which we are only dimly aware and cannot give expression they may remain in the shadows of our mind where they find their only uneasy place.