The Alamo | AccessAtlanta

The Alamo

Based on the 1836 standoff where a group of Texan and Tejano men, led by Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie, were out-numbered by Mexican general Santa Anna's forces at the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas.

FILM FACTS

Starring: Dennis Quaid, Billy Bob Thornton, Emilio Echevarria, Jason Patric, Patrick Wilson
Director: John Lee Hancock
Rating: PG-13 for sustained intense battle sequences
Genre: Action, Drama, Adventure

Official movie site

See showtimes (PG-13) 137 minutes

Grade: B+

Verdict: An "Alamo" well worth remembering.

By ELEANOR RINGEL GILLESPIE
Cox News Service

Remember the Alamo?

Not the historic battle that occurred in 1836 in San Antonio, Texas. I'm talking about the movie Ron Howard wanted to direct, with Russell Crowe. His dream got bogged down in politics, PC-ness, conflicting agendas and Disney's reluctance to give him the money and the R-rating he wanted.

Which brings us to "The Alamo," with Howard producing and John Lee Hancock ("The Rookie") directing. The result is a superlative character-driven epic that honors both the varied truths and the varied myths surrounding a battle that pitted less than 300 Texans and Tejanos (Mexicans on the American side) against General Antonio López de Santa Anna and several thousand Mexican troops.

The film begins with the end of the most famous battle over the fate of the Texas territory. A dog despondently licks its master's corpse. An open locket lies inches away from a dangling, blood-stained hand.

Next comes a flashback to one year earlier. Davy Crockett (Billy Bob Thornton) and Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid) are attending some swank event in Washington, D.C. Over drinks, they survey the guests like a pair of wily country-boy foxes.

Hancock uses the sequence not only to give us some clues to the nature of two of his main characters, but also to establish Crockett's immense celebrity. From his theater box, he gracefully -- and humorously -- salutes an actor in a resplendent coonskin cap who's playing a fictionalized version of him in the melodrama "The Lion of the West."

Back in Texas, we meet Jim Bowie (Jason Patrick) and William Travis (Patrick Wilson). Almost as well-known as Crockett (thanks to his legendary knife), Bowie is a sardonic, hard-drinking hellion and unrepentant slave trader. Travis comes off as a fresh-faced schoolmaster, unsure of his authority and relying on sticky little military rules to assert he's in charge.

Crockett arrives with a tough band of Tennesseans and the happy impression that the fighting is over. In a nuanced bit of character study, we watch a practical man reassess his options and honorably decide to stay and fight.

Outside the fort -- a caved-in church really, only useful because it has the most cannons west of the Mississippi -- are Santa Anna (Emilio Echevarría from "Y Tu Mama Tambien") and his mass of soldiers. The general is portrayed as a pompous egomaniac. But even he knows who Davy Crockett is.

Santa Anna is also the figure with, perhaps, the most foresight. He understands what losing Texas will mean, telling his officers, "Your grandchildren will be begging for crumbs from the Americans."

The Alamo's defenders hang on for 13 days before the final battle, which is more of a massacre than a fight. The Mexicans' charges and the struggles on the Alamo's walls are expertly portrayed. Hancock is from Texas, and his love for the state's heritage shines through nearly every frame. However, the director is less interested in bloodshed than he is in these very different men, brought to this place for a common cause. The night before their last stand, some of the rank-and-file write loved ones -- the litany of their voices and hopes evoking a Ken Burns documentary. And the director makes a point of highlighting a brave Tejano named Juan Seguín (a magnetic Jordi Mollá, with Andy Garcia eyes).

Wilson, Patric and Quaid all acquit themselves well in warts-and-all depictions of their characters. Travis divorced his two children and his pregnant wife to go to Texas. Bowie is a killer who may have married his Mexican bride for her family's money. And Houston is a drunk and a political has-been.

Still, as often happens, Thornton steals the movie. His Crockett is a humorously self-deprecating charmer who knows more about handling men than killing bears. Yet, he's also acutely aware of the burden of his legend. During one silent night, he and Bowie discuss staying or leaving. "Now, David Crockett from Tennessee might slip over that wall," he says. "But that ol' Crockett character, they're all watching him. He's been on these walls every day of his life."

The movie is a little slow in its second hour, and some of the sketchy background is evidence that the movie was significantly trimmed. You can also quibble with what Hancock decides to include and leave out (no line in the sand?).

"The Alamo" can't -- and doesn't intend -- to be all things to all people. Rather, it's a thoughtful and human-scaled film that examines (and celebrates) the inexplicable underdog allure of a battle that was a glorious lost cause. And it's so in love with Texas that, for a couple of hours, we're all honorary Texans.