I don't know if I would say I'm "looking forward" to this film, but I am certainly interested in it, arguably more so than most of the films in this genre that came out last year. So I don't know WHAT to make of this review from South by SouthWest:

I wasn't at all surprised that the majestic Paramount Theater had a line around the block for Stop-Loss, "a love letter to Texas from Texas" as director Kimberly Peirce introduced it, her first film since 1999's Boys Don't Cry. But was this epically uneven, politically schizophrenic flick worth the wait? Ryan Phillippe plays a U.S. Army sergeant and decorated hero who—soon after returning to his small-town TX home from a tour in Iraq that still haunts his psyche—is "stop-lossed" by order of the President, a backdoor draft he vehemently disagrees with. Going AWOL and on the run with his buddy's fiancée (Abbie Cornish), a rather peculiar dynamic that hints at but never congeals into romance—Phillippe suffers PTSD flashbacks (war-movie cliché #3), beats up strangers, and contemplates escape across the border at the expense of deserting his family, friends and country. Like similar wartime misfires In the Valley of Elah and Redacted, soldier-made videos are a huge inspiration on the story as well as its aesthetics (at least until that idea is abandoned entirely), and you can practically hear Peirce clearing her throat to say Big Important Things about the meaning of patriotism through a tiny, soldier-experience drama (cliché #7). But from its opening sequences in Tikrit, including a balcony-rattling, tragic firefight involving Phillippe's foolhardy unit of good ol' boys—Channing Tatum as the face of meathead pride, Joseph Gordon-Levitt as the war-scarred alcoholic, and Victor Rasuk as the token minority with a poignant tale of woe, a/k/a cliché #11)—there's an uncomfortable sense that Peirce is trying to please everyone by taking a strangely ambiguous political stance. Setting up our hero as guilt-ridden for his part in a civilian casualty (cliché #26), what little anti-war critique there is gets trampled over by jingoistic Rambo porn, especially in an infuriating ending that attempts emotional hesitancy, but really just proclaims that people should suck it up and blindly obey the government rather than question controversial or flat-out immoral policies. USA! USA!

Meanwhile, Variety's Joe Leydon also calls the film "wildly uneven". Re: the ending, he writes:

The ending of "Stop-Loss" may be attacked by some critics (especially those with a political agenda) as a bases-covering cop-out. But it's actually one of the most dramatically and emotionally sound elements in the entire pic. More's the pity, then, that so much of what precedes this finale seems secondhand and second-guessed, the work of well-intentioned filmmakers whose stumbling efforts suggest that, much like the Vietnam War, the Iraq War won't inspire truly great and substantial dramas until the passing of time allows for perspective.

FWIW, at the 10,000 B.C. screening I attended ten days ago, the women sitting behind me were debating whether to see this film: on the plus side, it has Channing Tatum, and on the negative side, it's produced by MTV. That, if I recall correctly, was their rationale, at any rate.

'Stop-Loss' faces uphill battle
In essence, they're inverting the model: Where fall movies such as "Rendition" and "The Kingdom" that are only indirectly about Iraq tried to tap into the Iraq zeitgeist, a film far more relevant to the war is in a sense trying to distance itself from it.
Hollywood Reporter, March 14

Does Stop-Loss Even Care What Stop-Loss Is?
In the trailer Ryan Phillipe’s character says, “I honored my contract, I expect the Army to do the same.” But if stop-loss is in the recruit’s contract how is the Army not honoring the contract by exercising it? Isn’t it Phillipe’s character not honoring the contract by going AWOL?
Libertas, March 16

IMDB's entry for this film includes the following ratings detail:

Rated R for graphic violence and pervasive language. (re-rating; originally also some strong sexuality)

The re-rating is curious. Having seen the film, I thought it was clearly on track to establish a relationship between Phillippe's character and Abbie Cornish's character, but that never transpired. I'm wondering if the "strong sexuality" in the earlier cut involved scenes between those two characters, or if they were other scenes.

I realize this request comes across as prurient, but believe it or not, I'm not real intersted in which characters had sex with each other. I AM interested in whether a central element of the story was left on the cutting-room floor. Although I'm not a fan of on-screen sex and think any such scenes would have lowered my opinion of the film, I'm also curious as to what got left out of this film, which is a very odd duck, IMHO.

FWIW, FilmRatings.com -- the official website of the MPAA -- says:

Title: Stop Loss (2007)
Rating: R
Rating Reason: Rated R for graphic violence and pervasive language.
Distributor: Paramount Pictures Corporation
Alternate Titles: Untitled Kimberly Peirce Project
Other: Re-Rating
Previously rated ® in (2007).

So it was rated R, and then it was re-rated R. There is no reference here, however, to it being EDITED for a re-rating, as there is for, say, the ratings for A Clockwork Orange and Robocop. (Or have they stopped making note of that, now?)

Christian wrote:
: . . . I'm also curious as to what got left out of this film, which is a very odd duck, IMHO.

Yep.

If the film is trying to "teach" people about the current military situation, then it is worth noting that some people have criticized it for inaccuracies; e.g., supposedly troops would be notified that they have been stop-lossed much, much earlier than the Ryan Philippe character is notified; one critic even took the film to task for having the privates address their sergeants as "sir". The trailer for the film includes a clip of Philippe saying, "I honoured the contract, and I expect the army to do the same," or something like that, but I don't believe that line is in the film itself; nevertheless, some people have criticized that line because the possibility of being stop-lossed is, itself, written into the military contract. The film throws in a brief bit of dialogue that seems to have been designed to try to get around THAT particular objection, but the dialogue in question just makes you scratch your head; Philippe says the contract allows for being stop-lossed only in times of war, and "the President said the war is over." Um, DID he? Yeah, yeah, there was that photo op on the aircraft carrier where he said "major combat operations" had come to an end, but he never said the minor ones weren't still going on, right? (Of course, there is the broader question of whether the current conflict is even a "war" in the technical sense; weren't Korea and Vietnam officially termed "police actions", or some such euphemism? How does THAT affect the use of the stop-loss clause in the military contract? I haven't got a clue; I just know that the movie never really mounted a convincing argument.)

And if you approach the film on strictly dramatic terms, then I find it pretty uneven, especially towards the end, where there are some awkward lacunae and narrative reversals. For the most part, the film seems to be following a straight line, from Texas to D.C. to New York and possibly, beyond that, to Canada. Philippe even makes a date with someone who can take him across the border. But then he gets a phonecall. We don't hear what gets said on the other end. Instead, Philippe tells us afterwards that a friend of his committed suicide -- and no, we never saw the suicide happen, either. So we don't see it happen, and we don't hear anyone say it happened, until after the phone call is over. And then the film cuts to the funeral. The film has already cut back and forth between Philippe and his home town a few times, so we assume this is just another bit of parallel-plotline inter-cutting. But then, right after the funeral, Philippe shows up -- at the cemetery itself! Whoa, wait a minute, what happened to his date with that border-crossing guy? (And after he had paid so much money for that date? And come to think of it, how could he have afforded to get back home so quickly? And why is that scar on his forehead healing so fast?) So now we've had to awkwardly adjust our interpretation of this scene, from a parallel plotline to the central story. And THEN, Philippe heads to the Mexico border, and at the last minute, he changes his mind ... again. So the story just kind of collapses in on itself; as a colleague of mine put it, there's no real climax.

The fact that I watched The Deer Hunter for the first time a few weeks ago probably didn't do much to help my appreciation of this film, either. It's kind of difficult to get into a derivative and awkwardly constructed movie like Stop-Loss when you've recently had an experience with The Real Thing.

"pervasive language" ?

I hate films that have too much language. There should be less language in film today.

Peter, how is it clear that Brandon changed his mind about crossing into Mexico? I confess to being unclear as to the final scene, which I THOUGHT was probably a flashback to his initial departure for Iraq, NOT a scene that chronologically takes place AFTER the border scene. But I wasn't sure. Aren't some of the guys on the bus the same guys we see later in the film, wounded? I don't remember seeing the Gordon-Levitt character in that scene, though, so maybe it IS part of a second tour. If it IS another tour we're seeing him embark on, that raises a lot of questions about how Brandon extricated himself from all the legal problems associated with his going AWOL. I know his friend said all charges would be dropped if he returned to Texas, but Brandon doesn't follow through.

Whatever the case, the movie is a bit of a mess dramatically.

Totally. It's like music with too many notes.

Love the headline on this one:

- - -

DRIVES YOU UP AWOL
Sgt. Brandon King (Phillippe) returns home to Texas to be pinned with a medal for noble service in Iraq, where he led his men into a lethal situation any member of the Salvation Army would have immediately recognized as an ambush. . . .
The Army stop-loss program is disturbing but it's also an unfortunate necessity when there is neither a draft nor a volunteer spirit; it wasn't needed in, say, the Korean War. Tough as it is to take, a soldier can't do much about it, and the military would fall apart if it didn't punish runaways.
The mention of the stop-loss policy is the last time the movie intersects with reality. From then on, it's strictly comedy or maybe sci-fi. Sgt. King gets to march into the office of a lieutenant colonel (Timothy Olyphant), jumping over the intervening seven ranks to announce, "With all due respect, f - - - the president." Sure.
About to be brought to the stockade, Sgt. King simply punches out a couple of minders and runs. Getting away with this in the middle of a military base in daylight is about as likely as escaping from a submarine, but never mind, it's on to the next howler.
Brandon tells his parents about his refusal to report, but they neglect to beat him with the nearest mop handle and instead cheer him on. Desert away, my boy! And for no discernible reason, his best friend's girl (Abbie Cornish) jumps in a car with him. Brandon plans to ask a senator he once shook hands with for help, as soon as they can drive to Washington. Because there ain't no phones in Texas.
As we cut from Texas to their road trip (the two of them are constantly driving over bridges), Brandon continues to wear his fatigues despite being on the run from MPs. He even walks into a military hospital, where the movie proves it thinks sergeants are addressed as "Sir." . . .
In the alternate reality of "Stop-Loss," desertion, a crime punished by most armies through most of history with a firing squad, is handled about the same way as staying out after dark to play kick the can even though your mama done told you to be back in time for supper.
But never mind all that, because in the closing moments, the film reverses course on everything it supposedly stands for, except absurdity.
Kyle Smith (a Gulf War veteran and former U.S. Army lieutenant), New York Post, March 28

- - -

Christian wrote:
: Peter, how is it clear that Brandon changed his mind about crossing into Mexico? I confess to being unclear as to the final scene, which I THOUGHT was probably a flashback to his initial departure for Iraq, NOT a scene that chronologically takes place AFTER the border scene.

Oh, it takes place after. It DEFINITELY takes place after. (In the Mexico border-crossing scene, Brandon says that only a "shadow" of him will be in Mexico if he crosses that border, and you can see his mother resist the idea as he essentially talks about staying back in the U.S. and going back to the army.)

BTW, will ALL of Kimberley Pierce's films feature protagonists named Brandon?

: But I wasn't sure. Aren't some of the guys on the bus the same guys we see later in the film, wounded?

I didn't recognize any, no.

: If it IS another tour we're seeing him embark on, that raises a lot of questions about how Brandon extricated himself from all the legal problems associated with his going AWOL. I know his friend said all charges would be dropped if he returned to Texas, but Brandon doesn't follow through.

Oh, I know. That's just another of the movie's ginormous plot holes.

SDG wrote:
: Totally. It's like music with too many notes.

Someone's been watching Amadeus again.

Thanks, Peter. I'm a little surprised, although I shouldn't be. That reading of the ending is more natural, even if it strains believability. I was hoping for something more poetic.

EDIT: Just read that Kyle Smith review. I've never been his biggest fan, but that review is spot on.

FWIW, I like this point that Peter Suderman makes:

Indeed, when it succeeds, it does so because its loyalties are to its characters rather than its political ideas. Peirce is largely respectful of, and clearly taken with, her cast of soldiers and their families; even when she clearly disagrees with their choices, she never asks the audience to think less of them as a result. This is in great contrast to, say, Paul Haggis's similarly themed In the Valley of Elah, which looked down on soldiers with a mixture of pity and condescension, or Brian de Palma's Redacted, which portrayed most soldiers as goons and thugs, or Robert Redford's Lions for Lambs, which viewed them as pawns in a tactical game played by elites. A little decency goes a long way.