Posted on 04/18/2004 8:02:22 PM PDT by Vigilanteman
There are episodes in America's history that deserve to be retold to each generation as examples of the patriotism, heroism and the sacrifices made to keep us free - Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Bataan, D-Day, Iwo Jima and The Alamo. Of these, the Alamo is perhaps the most tragic, and the most inspiring - doomed men who willingly went to their deaths for the cause of liberty.
Some day, a movie may be made which does justice to their struggle - some day, not now. The Disney remake, released on Friday, is a disappointment in every way imaginable.
It is as inauthentic and foolish as the 1960 John Wayne-version. But, while the earlier film at least tried to deliver a pro-American message, the updated "Alamo" is both marred by political correctness and devoid of even a hint of patriotism.
It's as if those associated with the film (Ron Howard, among others) couldn't bear the thought of portraying a group of pioneers nobly, and so had to throw in the standard litany of America's sins.
Thus we have Jim Bowie's slave telling another black man, when the hopelessness of the situation is grasped: "It's enough that we have to fetch their water; we don't have to die for them!" Hollywood could make a movie set in fourth century Bulgaria and still find a way to insert a message on the unparalleled evils of American slavery. For the record, a freedman fought and died with the other Alamo defenders.
There's also a scene where Tejano (Spanish Texan) volunteers survey a group of rowdy Texians (AKA, white men behaving predictably). One of the former comments in Spanish: "Santa Anna just wants to rule Mexico, these disgraces want to take over the world."
But if the Tejanos felt that way, what were they doing inside the Alamo? Among those who died defending the old Spanish mission were men with names like Juan Badillo, Carlos Esparza, Antonio Fuentes and Jose Maria Guerrero. I doubt any of them thought their comrades-in-arms were rapacious SOBs.
As they face the final assault, Davy Crockett (improbably portrayed by Billy Bob Thornton) recounts a massacre of defenseless Indians during the Creek War, as if to say, "You think Santa Anna's bad? Well, what about the way we treated the Indians?" In this latest Disney revisionism, the Alamo is besieged by political correctness and multiculturalism.
Equally inevitable, given Hollywood's politics, is the absence of a discernible message in the midst of this blood and bravery.
Nearly 200 men chose death over surrender. Why? The film is silent on the subject - other than offering travelogue commentary on the scenic wonders of Texas and some last words expressing familial devotion.
As Disney demonstrated with its preposterous "Pearl Harbor," Hollywood has a pathological aversion to expressions of patriotism. Because it finds America (both in history and today) unlovable, it can't imagine anyone loving America enough to die for her.
Thus, while it's easy for Hollywood to deliver tedious lectures on the evils of slavery or mistreatment of the Indians, it's impossible for screenwriters to make a case for America. (Like the scene in "Sgt. York," where Gary Cooper decides to fight after reading a book of American history on a mountainside during a thunderstorm.)
Even recent films about some of the most inspiring moments in our past - "Pearl Harbor," D-Day ("Saving Private Ryan") and "The Alamo" - are cleansed of patriotism - no talk of freedom, democracy, representative government or love of homeland is allowed. (The sole exception is Mel Gibson's 1999 movie "The Patriot," which was unabashedly pro-American.)
John Wayne's "The Alamo," which suffered from its own flaws (namely that it was a standard-issue John-Wayne Western that happened to be set in the Texas war for independence), at least tried to say something from the heart.
The critics savaged it, in part because they loathed Wayne's anti-Communism, notably manifested in his support for the House Un-American Activities Committee and his refusal to shed tears for the Stalinist Hollywood Ten.
Wayne, who was president of the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals in the late '40s (a group started by Hollywood conservatives like Ward Bond and - ahem! - Walt Disney), never did penance for his supposed transgressions.
"I never felt I needed to apologize for my patriotism," Wayne confessed. "I felt that if there were Communists in the business (show business) - and I knew there were - then they ought to go over to Russia and try enjoying freedom there."
Mention of The Duke, or memories of his films, still provoke snickers from the establishment.
In his New York Times review of the new "Alamo," Elvis Mitchell can't resist getting in a dig at Wayne's "hilariously simple-minded 1960 'Alamo' which he directed and in which he seems to be looking for Khrushchev." Oh, haw, haw.
In an interview for his book, John Wayne: The Man Behind the Myth, Michael Munn asked Wayne if his Alamo movie was a vehicle for his anti-Communism. The actor replied: "It was, in part. But it was more than that. I hoped to convey to people all over the free world that they owed a debt to all men who gave their lives fighting for freedomS I was always inspired by the story because I don't know of any other moment in American history which portrays the courage of men any better." In the movie he also produced and starred in, Wayne made the connection between the heroism of the Alamo's defenders and Americanism, with dialogue - delivered by The Duke, naturally - about the eternal fight for freedom and the meaning of a republic.
Unfortunately, as noted earlier, what could have been a fine film got bogged down in nonsense - comic brawls, unlikely forays outside the Alamo's walls and buddy-movie humor.
The new "Alamo" also has its share of silliness - with Crockett/Thornton shooting an epaulet off Santa Anna's shoulder and serenading the besieging Mexican army with his fiddle from the Alamo's battlements. All that was missing was Billy Bob delivering karate kicks, a la Jackie Chan, in the climactic battle scene.
The most interesting element in the new film is Mexican actor Emilio Echevarria's portrayal of the self-styled Napoleon of the West, Gen. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, as a strutting sadist - Juan Peron meets Saddam Hussein. Pity Hollywood can't portray good as aptly as it delineates evil.
Like most Hollywood epics of today, "The Alamo" is all show and no substance. In its dogged determination to deliver no message (other than fashionable political correctness), the entertainment industry once again offers a spectacle that fails to inspire.
As I left the theater after enduring two hours and seventeen minutes of this, I couldn't help but reflect on the Americans who died in Iraq that very day. In vain, some would say.
At the time, some thought the same of the deaths in San Antonio. At San Jacinto, Sam Houston proved them wrong, when he overwhelmed the remnants of Santa Anna's army in 18 minutes (due in no small measure to the time bought for him by the Alamo's defenders).
Monday morning quarterbacking is always easier than fighting for your country. Making a movie full of sound and fury is easier than explaining why it all matters.
I think Maxwell also blew the Jackson death scene. In the book, Jackson, dying, was lost in a reverie, and was transported to his childhood and the mother he loved. As she beckoned him to "cross over the river and rest in the shade of the trees", he said his final words (in the book). The film simply showed Jackson die in bed and say those words, but the approach in the novel was far more moving, IMO.
This myth is debunked thoroughly on the official website of the Alamo, www.thealamo.org
"On November 12, 1835, the Consultation (the provisional government of Texas) appointed Sam Houston Commanding-General of the Texas Army. His authority, however, extended(only) over the regular army, leaving him unable to legally issue orders to the volunteers already in the field.
Houston dispatched recruiters to raise the regular army as well as agents to acquire arms, uniforms, and other supplies. With no troops to command, Houston received a furlough on January 28 in order to take care of personal business. He spent part of his leave conducting negotiations with the Cherokee Indians.
With a treaty successfully concluded, Houston rode to Washington-on-the-Brazos, where he served as a delegate to the constitutional convention, remaining there until March 6. During his stay, the new government reconfirmed his appointment as commanding-general of the Texas Army, giving him control over all troops - regulars and volunteers.
Houston arrived at Gonzales on March 11 to lead a relief expedition to San Antonio but by then the Alamo had already fallen. Thus, during the siege Houston was not building an army but engaged in other important business.
Like the latest version of Spartacus -- with the revolting slaves sporting modern hairstyles. My wife and I have started referring to these types of films as SciFi Channel Specials, because of the questionable production values of that network's made-for-TV movies.
Now in mentioning that above, you've left yourself open to post-modernist psychoanalysis. You see that because you've even mentioned it, it means that deep down you're trying to minimize and deny that an Indian holocaust occurred.
Well welcome to club Mel anyway. :-)
Right. Also, the Marion/Morgan character seems to have been motivated only by revenege and not love of country. A lot about "The Patriot" bothers me though Gibson's intention was laudable.
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