God save us from directors who, with the best intentions, use real-life atrocities as a backdrop for the same old Hollywood heroism bunk. Antoine Fuqua's "Tears of the Sun" is a fictional story that takes place in Nigeria after the democratic government has fallen and the country has been taken over by a zealous military dictator, who, as one of the movie's tough-guy characters informs us in swinging military-ese, wants to get rid of anybody who "goes to the wrong church."

Bruce Willis is grizzled old-hand Navy SEAL Lt. A.K. Waters (in his first scene, the sun glints off his manly razor stubble magnificently), who has been assigned to lead a squadron deep into the jungle wilderness to retrieve an American-by-marriage doctor, Lena Kendricks (Monica Bellucci), and escort her to safety. They have no interest in rescuing the 30 or so "indigenous" refugees under her care -- at least not at first.

There's nothing wrong with using Hollywood techniques and traditions to connect us with real human suffering: Brian De Palma did it with "Casualties of War" and John Boorman did it with "Beyond Rangoon," to name two of the best examples. But you can't use Hollywood hokum to force the same goal, as Fuqua (the widely acclaimed director of "Training Day") does here.

There's a fine line dividing Hollywood tradition and overly manipulative junk, and "Tears of the Sun" crosses it. The movie is clearly supposed to be about the humanity of soldiers and the complex moral decisions, often made in the heat of combat, that shape them as people. To that end, we get lots of quiet shots of Willis as he fixes someone or something with a quizzical stare -- he's beginning to work out a moral puzzle for himself, right before our very eyes. We know this because he says things like, "It's been so long since I did a good thing -- the right thing." And later, "I broke my own rule. I started to give a fuck."