The Alamo

Don't Worry, Fight Happy
by Ed Owens

In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that my only exposure to the Alamo was the jingoistic John Wayne snooze-fest from 1960 and the building's cameo appearance in the blissfully silly Pee-wee's Big Adventure, which taught me that the Alamo doesn't have a basement. Other than that, my mental database of Alamo factoids is relatively bare. Sure, I know the names of some of the principals--Jim Bowie, Davey (although I've now learned that he apparently preferred David) Crockett, and Santa Ana, whose Mexican army threatened the burgeoning state of Texas while still in its infancy--but beyond that, I went into Touchstone's The Alamo a proverbial blank slate. Two and a half hours later, I don't know that I know much more than I did going in.

The Alamo's rocky production history will soon become the stuff of legend, provided enough people actually see the finished project to warrant more than a footnote in the annals of cinematic history. With more rumored cast changes than NYPD Blue, the film was originally scheduled to be released on Christmas 2003, presumably to qualify it for Oscar noms. Of course, the film was eventually bumped to April of 2004 for reasons which even today are the subject of conspiracy theories that would make The Lone Gunmen giddy with excitement (a series of disastrous test screenings didn't help). Of course, none of this would matter if the film itself didn't bear the marks of its rocky road to a theater near you so prominently.

Director John Lee Hancock, who agreed to sign his name big only after Ron Howard dropped out because of 1) monetary, 2) casting, or 3) rating disputes (depending on who you believe), has described the story behind the dusty last stand as grand, something evidenced by the fact that neither he nor the screenwriters seem to know where to start, whose story to tell, or how to pare it down to a more manageable size. The story flits about, occasionally at random, the result of one too many cuts dictated by response cards. The narrative is littered with the bodies of threads excised at the behest of dissatisfied screeners, paranoid executives, and insecure filmmakers--a passing reference to brothers on opposite sides of the battle lines, a nod towards the family background of Bowie and Travis, shades of the political landscape that set the stage for the battle itself. But the film brings little depth to the proceedings, even at 2+ hours. The few details the film does provide are highlighted by pointed speeches, musical crescendos, or artificial lighting, sometimes by all three.

Given the film's choppy development, the actors have little opportunity to make a mark. The only real standout is Billy Bob Thornton as David Crockett, who seems born to play a simple man coming to terms with his larger-than-life reputation. Everyone else is merely there, with the worst being Jason Patric, all but wasted as the terminally ill Jim Bowie (I imagine Hancock playing "Alamo" as a kid, fighting over who gets to be Bowie and spend their time lying in a bed bathed in sweat).

Then there's the battle scenes, which while slickly produced, are over all too quickly. There's no weight to the battles, given that we have little to no investment in the characters, and little to no historical interest given that the film doesn't bother us with petty details like the logistics or flow of the different battles (the film does lay out the battle plans with scenes of Santa Ana planning his attack on the Alamo and Sam Houston planning his attack on Santa Ana's pursuing armies, but the actual portrayal is little more than overhead shots of racing soldiers interspersed with shots of random people falling down dead). The climactic last stand is anti-climactic.

As little as I understood about the story going in, the film glosses over some of the more compelling (and more controversial, according to the pre-release press) points in favor of a sanitized version that is sure not to offend. The problem is that it doesn't really satisfy either. Ultimately, The Alamo is a long, tedious film that thinks itself far more important than it really is.