Gawd, what splendid photography. Spacious, craggy. and sunswept Central Mexico where the Cristados fought for the freedom to practice their religion in the late 1920. It's the kind of place you'd like to retire to in order to avoid the humidity of Miami Beach, the urban sprawl of Southern California, and the increasing congestion of Arizona.
It's so easy to visualize the reward after a lifetime of hard work. Oh, Camarero -- another margarita, por favor? It's so picture-postcard pretty that the epic scenery almost overwhelms the tense and action-filled story of the last phase of all those Mexican revolutions of one hundred years ago.
Ruben Blades is President Calles, who passed a series of laws that looked very much like an attempt to secularize Mexico and eliminate Catholicism. The reasons can only be guessed at. The church was a powerful moral and political force. Maybe Calles thought it was a little too powerful. The church also owned an awful lot of land and other valuables.
In any case Blades gives an innovative and thoughtful performance as a leader who could easily have been shown as no more than another one of those evil swarthy people with shiny big teeth and greasy locks.
His performance is matched by almost everyone else in the cast, perhaps with the exception of Oscar Isaac who, like most of the other principals, is of Hispanic origin but who struck me as an American guy struggling with a Spanish accent. As the first priest to be executed by firing squad, the ancient Peter O'Toole delivers the thoroughly believable goods. The ostensible hero is Andy Garcia as the historically real General Enrique Gorostieta, an atheist who was hired to lead the revolt. Garcia is no longer a sleek handsome youth but age has made him more impressive. And, in fact, Gorostieta WAS hired to organize the resistance, and he demanded a good sum as well as insurance for his family.
That's one of the film's more admirable points -- the way there are these little inserts of coarse history. Calles, the "bad guy", offers peace terms that seem reasonable, but Gorostieta is too proud to accept them. The revolt was finally settled after Gorostieta's death, essentially based on the same agreement he'd rejected, with the intervention of the United States ambassador, who was Charles Lindbergh's father-in-law. As part of the agreement, the US provided the Mexican government with machine guns and Mexico in turn agreed to protect American oil interests. See? Nothing is altogether cut and dried, and you have to respect a movie that takes on the challenge of displaying ambiguity in its characters.
Not that there's ever much doubt in the mind of the ordinary viewer about which side is good and which is bad. The movie may be complicated but human judgments aren't. So freedom of religion is "good" while the suppression of freedom is "bad." The story illustrates the point that sometimes religion is worth killing and dying for. I wonder how the film would have turned out if the religion had been an Islamic sect.
The director doesn't match the majestic scenery, the perceptive performances, the credible art direction, and the skillful make up and wardrobe. John Ford shot the assassination of Abraham Lincoln in long shot. No such restraint here. The director does his best to push all the thoroughly commercialized emotional buttons. When O'Toole is bulletized, the camera cuts to a closeup of his agonized face, his features cut off in mid prayer. When a young boy is murdered we here the thud of the knife hilt against his back and there is a close up of his agonized face. The camera lingers on him as he falls to the ground before the coup de gras. Important deaths are in slow motion, sometimes VERY slow motion.
It almost seems as if the screenplay and the direction are at odds with one another -- the screenplay yearning for a combination of action and character, along the lines of "Lawrence of Arabia," while the direction aims for a simple and successful movie about good guerrillas fighting tyranny,.
It's so easy to visualize the reward after a lifetime of hard work. Oh, Camarero -- another margarita, por favor? It's so picture-postcard pretty that the epic scenery almost overwhelms the tense and action-filled story of the last phase of all those Mexican revolutions of one hundred years ago.
Ruben Blades is President Calles, who passed a series of laws that looked very much like an attempt to secularize Mexico and eliminate Catholicism. The reasons can only be guessed at. The church was a powerful moral and political force. Maybe Calles thought it was a little too powerful. The church also owned an awful lot of land and other valuables.
In any case Blades gives an innovative and thoughtful performance as a leader who could easily have been shown as no more than another one of those evil swarthy people with shiny big teeth and greasy locks.
His performance is matched by almost everyone else in the cast, perhaps with the exception of Oscar Isaac who, like most of the other principals, is of Hispanic origin but who struck me as an American guy struggling with a Spanish accent. As the first priest to be executed by firing squad, the ancient Peter O'Toole delivers the thoroughly believable goods. The ostensible hero is Andy Garcia as the historically real General Enrique Gorostieta, an atheist who was hired to lead the revolt. Garcia is no longer a sleek handsome youth but age has made him more impressive. And, in fact, Gorostieta WAS hired to organize the resistance, and he demanded a good sum as well as insurance for his family.
That's one of the film's more admirable points -- the way there are these little inserts of coarse history. Calles, the "bad guy", offers peace terms that seem reasonable, but Gorostieta is too proud to accept them. The revolt was finally settled after Gorostieta's death, essentially based on the same agreement he'd rejected, with the intervention of the United States ambassador, who was Charles Lindbergh's father-in-law. As part of the agreement, the US provided the Mexican government with machine guns and Mexico in turn agreed to protect American oil interests. See? Nothing is altogether cut and dried, and you have to respect a movie that takes on the challenge of displaying ambiguity in its characters.
Not that there's ever much doubt in the mind of the ordinary viewer about which side is good and which is bad. The movie may be complicated but human judgments aren't. So freedom of religion is "good" while the suppression of freedom is "bad." The story illustrates the point that sometimes religion is worth killing and dying for. I wonder how the film would have turned out if the religion had been an Islamic sect.
The director doesn't match the majestic scenery, the perceptive performances, the credible art direction, and the skillful make up and wardrobe. John Ford shot the assassination of Abraham Lincoln in long shot. No such restraint here. The director does his best to push all the thoroughly commercialized emotional buttons. When O'Toole is bulletized, the camera cuts to a closeup of his agonized face, his features cut off in mid prayer. When a young boy is murdered we here the thud of the knife hilt against his back and there is a close up of his agonized face. The camera lingers on him as he falls to the ground before the coup de gras. Important deaths are in slow motion, sometimes VERY slow motion.
It almost seems as if the screenplay and the direction are at odds with one another -- the screenplay yearning for a combination of action and character, along the lines of "Lawrence of Arabia," while the direction aims for a simple and successful movie about good guerrillas fighting tyranny,.