Has political correctness killed the old-fashioned Western? Time was you could tell a story of frontier grit, Injun killin' and land stealin', and nobody batted an eye. Nowadays, if you want to make a Western, you either have to go all postmodern like Unforgiven or, as with The Alamo, you have to deal with all that pesky historical accuracy to avoid charges of racism.
I say bull-pucky! The Alamo is corny, rip-roarin' and don't need no stinkin' political correctness. While it's not John Wayne caliber, it'll satisfy anyone looking for a sugar-coated history lesson.
The story follows Texas settlers in 1836 as they stand off against the Mexican army, led by Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna (Emilio Echevarria). The Texans, looking to declare themselves independent from Mexico, hole up in the Alamo, an abandoned mission. The forces are led by stuffy Lt. Col. William Travis (Patrick Wilson) and rugged Col. Jim Bowie (Jason Patric), he of the famous knife. Though horribly outnumbered, the settlers muster up their courage, thanks in part to the presence of legendary outdoorsman and one-time Congressman David Crockett (Billy Bob Thornton), and wait for promised reinforcements to come from Gen. Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid).
If you remember anything from high school history class, you know that the battle was a massacre, with the Mexicans eventually slaughtering the brave (or stupid) Texans. Yet, it's remembered as an inspirational moment in American history, and the phrase "Remember the Alamo!" became a rallying cry for troops in subsequent battles with Mexico. This is where the problem comes in: The settlers were actually stealing the land, trying to escape Mexican rule. That government, in turn, was run by the corrupt Santa Anna.
But, in order to tell the story which director and co-writer John Lee Hancock clearly wants to tell, you have to ignore those pesky details. Hancock gives lip service to the various moral gray areas. At its heart, his film is about the bravery of white men. His filmmaking is as unsophisticated as his story. The battle scenes are well-orchestrated, but offer nothing new; the exposition is often clunky; the pacing is off; and many of the performances are one-note. Quaid spends the entire movie scowling, Patric looking pained, and Thornton seems to wonder just how he ended up in this film.
It's a good thing he did, though, because his goofy performance as living legend Davey Crockett, about whom even the Mexicans believe outrageous tales, is the movie's highlight, and his monologue about fighting Injuns is the film's only truly affecting moment.
Hancock tacks on the post-Alamo Battle of San Jacinto at the end, and a whole lot of politicking at the beginning, mainly to shoehorn hero Houston into the story. The try for context is admirable, but the film's heart still lies with the siege, and history be damned, it's a pretty darn good yarn.