It’s depressing that we live in a culture where PBS executives would prefer its stations to air a sanitized version of “A Company of Soldiers,” the Frontline documentary that debuts tonight at 9 p.m. on Channel 13, because of the coarse language it contains – the language spoken by the men and women fighting in Iraq for the very freedom of speech enjoyed (most of the time) at home. But war has a way of polarizing even the strongest of nations, and thus perhaps it’s fitting that this window onto the Iraqi war zone – through the eyes of one military unit – would become a weapon of those fighting an equally murky culture war at home.

“A Company of Soldiers” presents a dispassionate yet terrifying look at Dog Company, 1st Battalion of the United States Army’s 8th Cavalry Regiment, stationed just outside Baghdad in November of 2004. Shot with handheld cameras and often in darkness, this close-up portrait of soldiers at work isn’t likely to change the way we think about the war; it’s not about the larger issues at play, and doesn’t try to answer profound questions about the reasons for our presence in Iraq. Instead it simply puts a human face on the terrifying nature of the world’s first 21st-century war, and demonstrates palpably the real and constant dangers faced by American combat forces in Iraq.

We watch as matters escalate for these young American soldiers – from standing by the side of a highway with rifles, shooting at a car that blunders through a barricade, to ambushes, shootings, bombings, and death. Few, if any, American soldiers in Iraq are safe. “If we meet the enemy,” says one lieutenant colonel as he plans a movement of his battalion against insurgents during the Muslim Night of Power, “we’re going to overwhelm him with combat power and destroy him.” But he adds, “The intangible of that is so many people pumped up trying to get to the fight that we start shooting each other.”

You can sense the fear these soldiers feel; there’s none of the casual camaraderie we associate with combat from so many fictional retellings of war. Iraq is a 24-hour danger zone, and none of these men and women feels protected. As each day passes, and more of their number are killed or wounded, it’s clear that Dog Company senses (correctly) that the enemy here poses a far more insidious and constant threat than they’d ever imagined. At one point a captain in the unit suggests to his troops that he has been personally named as a target by the insurgent forces with which they’re doing battle. His instructions are blunt and brutal. “If you see anything laying on the back seat, any weapon, anything that looks weird to you,” says the officer under threat, “fire a warning shot and see how he responds. If you clearly identify a weapon I just want you to kill him.” It’s not a surprising command from an officer of a company under constant mortar and rocket fire.

Producer Edward Jarvis spent a month with Dog Company, and returned with no conclusions; instead, he wraps up this 90-minute documentary with a standard-issue testament to the “courage and commitment” of the American soldiers in Iraq. He alludes to “the inevitable political costs” of “conducting combat operations amongst an urban civilian population,” but makes no moral or political judgments. He doesn’t have to. There’s enough pointless pain and suffering in “A Company of Soldiers” to cause just about any viewer to ponder the purpose and effectiveness of the entire military effort.

And, with any luck, talk about it. Whether or not its audience comes away changed in its beliefs, there’s no question of the immense value of such filmmaking to an enlightened American audience. Those who would try to censor its coarse language are truly fighting a wrongheaded battle, and they must be kept from winning at all costs.

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The fourth season of “American Idol” has been the best one yet; credit must go to Fox and the show’s producers for escalating the competition and its entertainment value in ways matched only by the folks behind “Survivor.” And it’s hard to imagine the familiar and satisfying dynamic among the judges ever surviving the loss of Simon, Randy or Paula. They’re part of the “American Idol” dysfunctional family. In last Wednesday’s show, when the contestant pool narrowed to 24, losers were observed as they rode the elevator down from their final session with the judges; we were able to watch their faces as they prepared to tell everyone their sad news, and embrace defeat with at least a little dignity. This has evolved into rich family entertainment, and you have to admire its addictive qualities; by the fourth week, characters like Amanda Avila (the Vegas brunette), Constantine Maroulis (the groovy rocker) and Anwar Robinson (the long-dreaded dude) have emerged as fully formed personalities to be considered and enjoyed. By the way, my money’s on Anwar to win.