The Flipcritic

Lately, it has become all too easy to take potshots at American films that espouse their patriotism. Such movies are labeled as arrogant, due to America’s current standing in world opinion. But aren’t those who brand others as arrogant being arrogant themselves? Many of these accusers confuse some American films’ patriotism for jingoism. The former is characterized by love and devotion. The latter is chauvinistic and belligerent. And I am pleased to say that THE ALAMO fits squarely into the first category.

The movie is based on events that led to and flowed from the Battle of the Alamo during the Texas revolution in early 1836, which resulted in death of nearly all of the Alamo’s defenders. It thoughtfully reflects on what might have transpired during those events, and hardly flatters some of the historic American icons that participated in it. In making this movie, John Lee Hancock (THE ROOKIE) has sidestepped practically every temptation to descend into nationalistic rabble rousing. Instead, he has crafted a somber and levelheaded best-guess scenario, portraying legendary figures truly as ordinary men with apprehensions, faults, and fears. Though led by cruel fate, they emerge triumphant in ways victory could not supply.

The Alamo itself is well known as the last stand of Davy Crockett (Billy Bob Thornton of THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE). He was an American bear trapper and congressman lionized not only by his last battle, but also by past fairy-tale attempts to film his biography. John Wayne portrayed Mr. Crockett in the 1960 film of the same name, but in a performance so heroic that it stripped his character of any human qualities that one could relate to. And the Disney classic DAVY CROCKETT, KING OF THE WILD FRONTIER (1954) made his name synonymous with the coonskin hat he supposedly wore (go to www.google.com to type in coonskin, and you will definitely see Mr. Crockett’s name along with it).

After losing his attempt at reelection, Davy Crockett leaves for Texas after he is (purportedly) offered a vast area of its land (they both served as government officials in Tennessee) by its general, Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid). Mr. Crockett happens upon the Alamo (just recently taken from the Mexican army) and comes upon two of its officers William Travis (Patrick Wilson) and James Bowie (Jason Patric), two of its leaders who bicker and disagree on how things should be run within the compound. General Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana (Emilio Echevarria of AMORES PERROS) realizes the significance of the fortress compound his army had lost, and wishes to retake it at all costs, and dear costs they would be for both sides.

Though the movie is advertised as another romantic war movie where much life is lost without much concern for those who lost it (e.g. PEARL HARBOR, BEHIND ENEMY LINES, THE PATRIOT, & WINDTALKERS), it is never insensitive about the subject of death. The Alamo’s residents know all too well about the harsh realities that are about to beset them. Davy Crockett and James Bowie both laugh at the myths built at their expense (a Mexican soldier fears at Crockett’s ability to leap rivers), and question each other how far their fables can carry them in their time of need. When Bowie asks Crockett, “Can you catch a cannonball?” it has no hint of humor, just sobering doom.

Many war movies, especially period pieces, are fond of patriotic clichés, where heroes extol the virtues of dying for one’s country (as if they had done it several times). But THE ALAMO has no such moments. It is true that at one point, William Travis addresses the Alamo’s residents of his worst fears, that no one knows whether their pleas for reinforcements were successfully received, and that none may actually arrive. But when he gives them their choice to leave or stay, citing the pros and cons, those who stay do not scream in courageous yawps. They look forlorn and resigned. They are brave, not naive.

And they are not the only people brave in this movie. Its filmmakers are as well. It would have been so easy to deliver the message that America is worth dying for, since it is the land of the free and the home of the brave. Yet the film contains nuggets of contradiction, forcing us to think about the bad things America has as well as good. A Tejano (Mexican Texas resident) questions another why he should stay and fight, since he views his American counterparts as warmongers. James Bowie will let his Negro slave leave to flee, but as his property and not as a human being. And near the end, General Sam Houston agrees to free his captives not out of mercy or respect for the law, but for his ambitions of gaining control of Texas as a sovereign nation. All of these hardly put America in a positive light, yet they were the realities of the time. In depicting these moments, Mr. Hancock honors history, and forces his audience to think about what those at the Alamo believed in when they chose to die.

Speaking of honoring history, the film is remarkably accurate, which is a rarity among historical recreations (you can this link from the University of Texas and see these recorded events parallel the film: http://www.tsha.utexas.edu/handbook/online/articles/view/AA/qea2.html). But accuracy is not the sole benchmark of a good film. Its style matters greatly, and in that, THE ALAMO delivers. The movie has a confident and assured pace, with images of varying beauty. The San Antonio grasslands have a strange exotic beauty similar to that in THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY. Shots at night within the Alamo have an almost Victorian warmth about them before the battles take place. But that same ambiance takes on a dark dread with each passing skirmish. There are no CGI armies here that clash like ants. Real men take on each other in growing numbers without much bombast. This approach makes us appreciate the suffering and anguish that must have taken place. Death requires no flamboyance.

Dennis Quaid gives a serviceable performance as Sam Houston, but he is the wrong choice to play authority (he’s more suited to good-natured or goofy characters). Patrick Wilson being a relative unknown to most audiences is the right choice as William Travis, playing an idealistic upright soldier searching for newfound dignity in a place where manners are not exactly a high priority. Who thought Jason Patric could portray such grit and cynicism (His ambivalence and toughness reminds me of Michael Ironside) as Jim Bowie? Emilio Echevarria is absolutely serpentine as General Santa Ana. Some might say his portrayal is way over the top, but if you read about the General (after he had his leg amputated, he had it buried with full military honors), you would know that the vanity he plays out is done reasonably. And Billy Bob Thornton is marvelous in his plainness as Davy Crockett. His character’s demeanor has an everyman quality, yet his face conveys so much emotional depth, whether be it regret, fear, consignment, or even rage. He also has the film's most memorable scene, where he addresses the Mexican army band march with his fiddle. This is the most memorable use of a violin since THE RED VIOLIN. And what he says afterwards is so simple yet poignant, that when the very same scene reappears at the movie's end, its meaning becomes incandescent.

If I had to précis what makes this film so worthwhile, it’s that it humanizes all those involved in such a historic turning point. In doing so, we realize the enormity of their sacrifice, even if they did not. Many of us like to blast patriotism instead of knowing what it means to have it. Maybe THE ALAMO can shed a little light on that.

Posted by FLIPCRITIC at January 26, 2005 04:09 PM