Directed by John Lee Hancock

Written by Leslie Bohem, Stephen Gaghan, John Lee Hancock

Starring: Billy Bob Thornton, Dennis Quaid, Jason Patric, Patrick Wilson, Emilio Echevarría 

Rated: PG-13 (Sustained Intense Battle Sequences)

Length: 137 Minutes

In a word: Texan

Texas: Fiercely independent, gun-toting ranchers; squabbling politicians shirking their military duties while egotistically sending lesser men to fight their battles in selfish, petty wars; big bulls, big beer, big spaces, big egos, and bigger lies.

Surprisingly little has changed since the days of the Alamo.

Any movie based on the historic massacre (I hope I'm not giving anything away, but yes, everyone dies) is faced with the daunting task of living up to the legend.  What school child doesn't know the name "Alamo" or know that Davy Crockett and his coonskin hat died there?  Who hasn't heard the exploits of James Bowie and his legendary knife, or Sam Houston's heroic and inspired leadership?  What movie can ever hope to compete with schoolteachers' histrionics and their students' vivid imaginations?

This version, as if in homage to the dogged men who fought against all odds in that Texas mission so long ago, bravely dares to defy the legends and the Texas-sized exaggerations.

A remake of John Wayne's 1960 film, a pathetically inaccurate movie that disgustingly deifies the Texan "heroes," this new telling goes out of its way to paint these men as the imperfect creatures they were: lowlifes, drunkards, greedy, cowardly, prideful, fearful, emotional, flawed humans.

Billy Bob Thorton as the ex-Tennessee senator David Crockett (he insists it's David, not Davy) is the most rounded out of the legendary martyrs.  It's amazing that the same Disney who once bragged that Crockett "killed him a bahr when he was only three" could create such a believable, three-dimension character.

This Crockett struggles with his fame.  In an ingenious sequence at the beginning of the film, Crockett attends a play based on his trumped-up exploits, exploits which later he has to admit to his Alamo compatriots never really happened—he didn't even start wearing the coonskin hat until after the legends said he did. 

Not that he always minds the publicity.  Even the Mexican army is fearful of this Crockett character who can leap the Mississippi in a single bound and shoot a fly off of the swishing tail of a burro from unbelievable distances.

Neither is Crocket utterly devoid of merit.  He may not be able ride a lightning bolt, and yes, he joined the Texan militia because of the promise of free land and under the presumption that all the fighting was over, but he is a brave man full of compassion and honor, humor and dignity, not necessarily trying to live up to his legend, but rather live up to the moment.

In one of his best performances, Thorton brilliantly traverses the delicate balance between the man and the myth.

Not that all of the characters are as objectively drawn.  Santa Ana, the Mexican dictator who personally leads his army to rout the Texan invaders, is demonized by the filmmakers in the worst way.  He doesn't have a shred of decency, absolutely no human feeling, and cowardly runs away when the tide turns against him.  There is one brief moment when the filmmakers allow him a glimmer of humanity: in a prophetic speech defending his vicious hatred of the Texans, Santa Ana (Echevarría) tells his men that the Texans must be utterly destroyed or else "our children and our grandchildren will be begging for crumbs from the Americans."

While not deserving the label of American propaganda piece leveled so harshly against it, this is definitely a Texan retelling of the events.  One does quickly grow tired of endless emoting and soapbox speeches ballyhooing Texas and Texans' unquenchable spirit and the lingering shots of stoic ranchers turned militiamen silhouetted against the sunset.

The film manages to gloss over the fact that Texas was part of Mexico and that the Texans were technically squatting (I know, I know, they had vague, and highly disputed permission to be there).  So basically Santa Ana was defending his country and within his rights even if his methods were less than diplomatic.  Minor details Hollywood doesn't need to be bothered with.

Director John Lee Hancock was faced with a difficult story structure when creating this movie: politicians talking about Texas, gathering forces at the Alamo, more politicians talking some more about Texas, even more forces gathering at the Alamo, a little more talking, days and days of siege and stalemate, inaction, a few shots fired, and then a brief, bloody battle where almost every major character dies. 

Needless to say, the film does drag a little at the beginning, and in the middle, and at the end after the massacre, but the battle itself is spectacular, the hand-to-hand fighting is brutal with both sides suffering needlessly for a worthless mission.  Hancock does manage to keep the tension high during the seemingly endless siege by emphasizing on the demoralizing infighting between the ragtag army within the Alamo's walls with actual army following William Travis (Wilson) and the volunteers under the command of the deteriorating Bowie (Patric). 

Overall, this version of "The Alamo" is well crafted, emphasizing the characters rather than the exaggerated legends they have become.  It is a dignified, respectful eulogy for those on both sides of the mission walls who lost their lives defending what they thought was right.

But, most importantly, it shows us that the warriors at the Alamo are more like us, and their history more like ours, then we'd sometimes like to think.

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