When it comes to films about one of the most famous events in American history, certainly in Texas, I prefer the 1960 version of The Alamo (2004).  My apologies for the confusing dating.  Blame it the imperative for brevity ever-lurking in the back of my mind.  In 1960, John Wayne made a three hour plus epic that is not always historically accurate, but matches the legendary status of the actual event.  To give you a sense of the scale of the undertaking, they built a three-quarter scale replica of the eponymous mission-turned-fort that is still standing today.  Then again, they did the same thing for the 2004 update.  Such moves are questionable, and I remember not enjoying my viewing experience when I saw it in the theater over twenty years ago.  The Catholic in me is interested in a battle fought at a former religious site, but as a historian, I will always be critical.  I will leave it to you to judge my tone as I write the synopsis as to whether my opinion has changed in the intervening years.

The year is 1836 and The Alamo is being overrun by the Mexican Army under the command of their leader and president, General Antonio López de Santa Ana (Emilio Echevarría), the so-called “Napoleon of the West.”  To explain how we get to this point, we go back a year when we meet a similar figure to Santa Ana, Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid).  For now, the former governor of Tennessee is one of a number of Americans who have come to this northern territory in the country of Mexico (yes, it was once part of Mexico) in search of land.  Like those others, he is not happy with Mexican rule and is trying to start an independence movement.  What the film does not explain in any great detail is that one of the main issues was slavery, but we shall set that aside for the moment.  He is moving amongst a group of people gathered to hear a Davy Crockett (Billy Bob Thornton) impersonator.  What the crowd is not expecting is the actual person to show up, but Sam has a conversation with him before the show.  The topic is Texas, and Sam makes his pitch to have the famous frontiersman, and Congressman, come south in the hopes of taking advantage of what the place has to offer.  Other well-known figures of the time have done the same thing, like Jim Bowie (Jason Patric) and the knife that bears his name.  Indeed, he has been there for some time, marrying into the Texican population and acquiring slaves and wealth.  There are others trying to copy this success, like William Barret “Buck” Travis (Patrick Wilson), a young calvary officer in the fledgling rebellion’s army.  We meet him as he is divorcing his wife, sending her away as he is about to enter service.  Buck and Jim are colonels, and the two do not like one another.  This is also not fully explained, either.  In any case, the provisional government is pushing Sam to form an army.  While he is happy to do so, what he needs is material, men, and time.  Part of the solution to this issue is the Alamo, situated to the south in San Antonio.  It has the sought after weapons, but the makeshift bulwark could prove either a hinderance or a means of slowing Santa Ana’s advance.  As the leader of a militia band, Jim heads in that direction in order to take the cannon and burn the building.  As a regular army officer, Buck also travels there, but with a different purpose.  They arrive at roughly the same time, but it is Buck that first goes to the mission where he relieves Lieutenant Colonel James C. Neill (Brandon Smith) of command, who must attend to personal matters.  It leaves a power vacuum that Buck and Jim seek to fill.  In the middle of their feuding, Davy gets to town, and some want him to take charge of the situation.  Davy defers with his trademark backwoods charm, and Buck is adamant that they stay and fight.  At an impasse, they land on Buck retaining control of the fort and the regular soldiers, and Jim being over the militia, but all of them stay put.  It is not too long thereafter that the Mexican Army comes to San Antonio.  It quickly becomes evident that the defenders are grossly outnumbered, and they do their best to send word to anyone that might be able to help their desperate situation.  The news reaches Sam, who vows to do what he can, but not before he has trained an army.  During the course of nearly two weeks of battle, those inside the Alamo withstand nightly bombardments, and the only assistance they get are thirty odd men that arrive on horseback.  Santa Ana is hoping to lure the Texans out to fight them in the open, but they remain behind the walls.  When it is clear they are not going to fall into his trap, he grants that all native Mexicans and anyone else who wants to depart may do so.  After this, Santa Ana orders his usual barrage before giving way to a final assault that results in the death of everyone inside the mission, with Davy being executed last.  When the fall of the Alamo reaches Sam’s growing force, many want to immediately attack.  Instead, he continues to bait the Mexicans farther east until he finally has the ground and soldiers to make a stand.  The Texans surprise Santa Ana’s men and the battle is over in minutes.  The Mexican general is captured and in exchange for his life, Texas is granted its independence.

What The Alamo tries to do is tell a story that is independent of the basic historical facts.  I do not mean to say that it is completely made up, but unlike its predecessor, it tries to get to the character of the American legends that died in defense of the one-time Catholic mission.  To that end, it is interesting that they highlight in one scene the two statues that adorned the outside of the chapel.  One is of St. Dominic and the other is of St. Francis of Assisi.  This matches the record, but what they say about them is wonky.  In singling out St. Francis, he is described as having the gift of prophecy and inspiring devotion.  It works story-wise since this is told to Buck, and it is going to help him rise to the occasion when he is called upon to display leadership.  From a Catholic perspective, the speech leaves a little to be desired.  It could be said of any saint, man or woman, that they were devout and prophetic.  It is difficult to imagine anyone attaining such devout status without those traits.  I also have trouble invoking the patron of animals, ecology, and the environment in such a martial setting.  Another sequence that is understandable for the plot but does not make sense as it pertains to Catholicism is Jim’s sickness.  He has tuberculosis, and he is succumbing to its ravages as the fort is being besieged.  In the room in which he is convalescing, he is surrounded by Crucifixes and Rosaries.  It is a great image is you follow the Faith, but one gets the impression that it is all a lost cause.  Instead of praying for healing, it gives a macabre air to a man who is about to die.  It is true that Jesus foresaw His death, as did Jim likely, but there does not appear to be an attempt to make at such a connection other than the imagery.

I will give The Alamo some credit for the other imagery, like the view of the final assault at night in which we see a wide-angle shot of the Mexicans swarming over the fort’s walls.  It is a better version of the events than those filmed in 1960, but far less epic.  You can read that as boring, but I will leave it to you to decide which is best.