For Greater Glory is a film so providentially well timed in terms of current events that it’s almost painful that it isn’t better. Oh, it’s not bad: it’s emotionally engrossing, beautifully shot, and thrilling as you please, but it’s frustratingly crippled by an unfocused story and a script that ranges from competent to wince-inducing.
Basically, the movie suffers from the same problems that plague so many faith-based films, which may be summed up in a rather desperate desire that the audience ‘get it.’ The writers know the message they want their audience to receive and spare no effort making sure the message is received. Thus it’s not enough to, for instance, depict Catholics being murdered: every single Catholic has to die forgiving his murderers and serenely submitting to his martyrdom. Likewise, points of character development are hit again and again (how many times, for instance, did we need to be reminded that the general leading the Cristeros was an atheist?). Even in the very first moments of the film the same points are covered twice in quick succession, first by the opening text and the in a speech by President Calles (Ruben Blades), his attacks on ‘subversive forces’ being played over shots of peaceful, happy Catholics being blessed and attending Mass just to make sure we ‘get’ that he’s a fanatical psycho.
The dialogue too is generally stilted and occasionally atrocious. Either characters wax a little too flowery and poetic, or else they seem to struggle to get out clunky pieces of oversized exposition (the worst example of this comes when a general responds to an insult with a brief summary of his own career in a manner so clunky the actor seems to have trouble getting it all out).
Though these are serious flaws, the story is strong enough to carry the film past them. The film tells the tale of the Cristeros War in Mexico from 1926 to 1929. We open with Mexican President Calles announcing the strict enforcement of the anti-clerical laws in the Mexican Constitution, among others being that priests were forbidden from criticizing the government or wearing their vestments in public. Catholics protest, peacefully at first (with marches and a boycott), but Calles merely steps up the persecution, using the protests as ‘evidence’ of the subversive intentions of the Church (one thing that always strikes me when I read or hear about government persecutions of Christians is how pointless they seem: like here, what, exactly, does Calles suppose will happen if priests wear vestments in public?). As the situation escalates, the government begins executing priests and, in response, Catholics rise up in armed resistance.
The film then follows the resistance movement (dubbed “Christeros” after their battle cry “Viva Christo rey!” or “Long live Christ the King!”) through the eyes of several key players:
There’s Father Jose Reyes Vega (Santiago Cabrera), a priest who forms a thousands-strong force to conduct guerilla raids; Anacleto Gonzalez Flores (Eduardo Verastegi) a lawyer who spearheads the peaceful protests against the government; Victoriano Ramirez AKA El Catorce (“The Fourteen,” after a ill-fated posse that was sent to kill him), played by Oscar Isaac as a rather brutal rancher who is a curious mix of noble motives and thuggish behavior; Adriana (Catalina Sandino Moreno), a young woman and friend of Flores who represents the many Catholic women who supported the movement by, among other things, smuggling ammunition under their clothing; Jose Luis Sanchez (Maurici Kuri), a fourteen-year-old boy who joins after his beloved pastor is executed; and most importantly, Enrique Gorostieta Velarde (Andy Garcia), a famous and accomplished (though retired) general whose belief in Religious Freedom causes him to accept command of the Cristeros army despite being personally an atheist.
There’s also U.S. Ambassador Dwight Morrow (Bruce Greenwood), who was sent by President Coolidge (Bruce McGill) to ensure America’s oil rights, but who eventually comes to realize the enormity of what’s happening (he gets one of my favorite scenes in the film, where his gentle prodding of the local bishops to condemn the war is interrupted when he sees a row of hanged bodies alongside the train) and subsequently helps negotiate an agreement (as a side note, I suppose it would be possible to find an actor who looks less like Calvin Coolidge than Bruce McGill, but you’d really have to work at it).
Did the above seem a little overwhelming? Unfortunately, the film is like that: there are so many characters running around, and their names are often delivered so quickly that, at least at first, it’s hard to keep track of who is who and what they are doing. It gets better as the film goes on (and the cast starts thinning a little), but the first, say, half-hour or so is rather confusing. Even later on, characters frequently drop out of the film for long stretches, only to rather jarringly pop up again (Morrow is probably the worst offender in this case, as there’s frequently so much time between his appearances that you almost forget he’s still in the movie).
Part of the problem also is that there isn’t much of a unifying ‘arc’ to the story beyond the war itself, which renders the whole thing rather meandering and unfocused; we can jump from Morrow talk with Calles to Sanchez leaving his parents to Velarde leading a battle all in quick succession, leaving us rather confused as to how much time has passed, what the status of the war is, or even who is planning what move. There’s a moment, for instance, when Velarde is being recruited to lead the Cristeros where he mentions that he’s been following their ‘victories and defeats,’ which is (as far as I could tell) the first time the Cristeros were even mentioned as a coherent unit rather than independent bands of raiders. Basically, the film wanders all over itself without a clear time frame or sequence of events. Something as simple as subtitles indicating when and where we are at key stages would have helped tremendously.
On the other hand, I appreciate the film going for an epic scope and trying to tell as much of its story as it could. The many disparate characters eventually coalesce into a single core group (which nicely mirrors their coming together to form an actual army), and by the time the film is over I felt I had gotten to know most of them well enough.
General Velarde serves as the film’s strong center and the calm eye of the storm. Garcia gives a strong performance (allowing for the weakness of the script) as a man who is fighting for a cause he initially doesn’t really believe in, but who slowly starts to imbibe the faith and beliefs of the men he leads (his conversion, unlike most such found in explicitly religious works, is actually pretty well-done and convincing, proceeding as it does from the principle that man becomes what he pretends to be).
Young Jose Sanchez (later beatified by Pope Benedict XVI) is probably the next closest thing to a protagonist the film has after Velarde. He’s a likable figure, particularly in a scene where he and his friend camp out on their way to join the Cristeros and fall to talking about Jesus, in a way that actually feels like how two boys would discuss the subject. His martyrdom, meanwhile, is as heartbreaking as you could wish for (though his final words were perhaps a little too on-the-nose).
Fr. Vega is an interesting figure (though apparently much more pious and less bloodthirsty than his real-life counterpart, who was dubbed a “black-hearted assassin” by his Cardinal, which adds a slightly uncomfortable tone to his scenes) as the priest-turned-general who still insists that he’s a priest first and foremost (and during the climax has to hold to that claim). El Catorce, meanwhile, very nearly steals the whole show with his sheer badassery. He also gets a couple of moments to show that, for all his brutality, he is genuine believer who is capable of repentance and humility.
President Calles is a largely unreconstructed villain (though he does have one or two scenes of humanity). Flores…well, I’ll admit, I kept loosing track of Flores. He makes some impression in the beginning, but then largely disappears until it comes time for his own martyrdom (he was also beatified by Pope Benedict along with Sanchez).
This review is starting to sound a little more negative than I intended, so let me go ahead and start listing some things the film does well:
First and foremost, it’s an emotionally gripping story from beginning to end as we follow the revolution from its unintentional beginnings through its triumphs and disasters (and plenty of both), all the while watching the characters coming to trust and rely on each other and seeing their faith in God grow, change, and deepen as they devote their lives to Him. Again and again we’re made aware of the immense courage of the various characters: the soldiers facing off against superior troops, the women smuggling information and ammunition (a tense scene on a train emphasizes just how dangerous this task was), and everyone involved risking their whole lives and fortune for the sake of their faith and freedom.
The martyrdoms depicted, for all their simplification, are almost all heartbreaking and edifying, just as martyrdoms should be. Bl. Jose Sanchez’s is, obviously, the most wrenching (I was grateful that we don’t have to actually see what happens during his torture, since the implications and his screams are quite agonizing enough), but earlier executions of people like Sanchez’s pastor, Father Christopher (Peter O’Toole, always a welcome presence) or another priest whose name I didn’t catch are also moving (O’Toole’s wide eyed terror as he mouths his last prayers stands out as one of the only signs of fear or reluctance in any of the film’s martyrs). As a tribute to modern-day martyrs, the film excels.
The cinematography is gorgeous, with the rugged wilds of Mexico on full display, from the towering stone peaks surrounding the Cristeros camp to the wide, almost unnaturally flat plain that serves as a meeting place for Calles and Velarde to discuss terms. Christian imagery is also well in evidence, from the gorgeous interiors of churches and cathedrals to the paintings and crucifixes that adorn the walls of homes and tents to a simple cross traced in the sand that soon fills with a pool of blood. The film manages some strikingly unique images, such as the moment when a priest and his murderer end up hanging side-by-side, or the slow build up to an ambush with dozens of armed men watching an oblivious army column pass in utter silence.
Furthermore, there are the refreshing signs that remind us that this is not a Hollywood film. The rugged masculinity of the main characters, for instance, as they tersely size each other up, swagger, and grimace behind bushy mustaches is the kind of thing that one almost never sees in a contemporary Hollywood film (for one thing there aren’t many actors left in Hollywood who can so convincingly play an honest-to-goodness man). At times the movie feels like an old-style Western, which, it should be noted, is all to the good. This is one of the most genuinely ‘manly’ film I’ve seen in theaters in a long time (I particularly like a scene where El Catorce challenges Velarde’s authority and Velarde, in response, allows him to make the mistake he had been trying to warn him against while quietly preparing to come to his rescue).
Another sign that this isn’t a Hollywood production is that the characters actually talk and act like real Catholics. This is so rare to see in movies that it’s actually a little startling when Velarde and Vega have a discussion about why God allows evil and Vega actually provides a decent answer, or when, during the same conversation, Velarde asks whether Vega can still be a priest after all he’s done and Vega answers (correctly) that he will always be a priest. Most movies and shows (and even news outlets) seem so utterly incapable of understanding or correctly depicting Catholicism that this movie feels like a bracing draft of fresh air, reminding us of just what we’ve been missing (I particularly appreciated a scene where the Cristeros enter a massacred village and become “an army of gravediggers” in an oblique reference to the corporal works of mercy).
I also like the way that, while they’re clearly meant to be the heroes (and are certainly cleaned up and more virtuous than their historical counterparts), the film does show that not all the Cristeros are saints and that they were capable of committing atrocities. El Catorce in particular has a number of morally-dubious moments (such as a scene where he shoots a fleeing enemy in the back after apparently letting him go). A historical incident where a train robbery ends in a massacre is here softened into a mistake, though the perpetrator later defends it as an act of vengeance and gets (justly) called out for it (though after that the incident is mostly forgotten and only referred to obliquely). Unfortunately, the same concern isn’t really shown to the federales troops, who are pretty much cardboard targets who are never allowed to show any reluctance or hesitation to murder priests and children (a brief moment where one offers to help Sanchez on his via dolorosa is an isolated throwaway and doesn’t really help much).
The action scenes, meanwhile, are somewhat mixed. On one hand, they’re generally thrilling enough, with the scene where El Catorce earns his nickname being simply superb from start to finish, but they’re also mostly a little prosaic and uncreative. There’s also the problem, possibly brought about by budgetary restrictions, that there never seem to be as many men as we’re told there should be. One battle, for instance, seems to involve at best a hundred or so government troops, but we’re later told the army lost five or six thousand. It’s not a huge problem, but it’s one of the things the film could have done better.
That’s the thing: the film is engrossing and moving, but it really should have been much better. If only a little more care were taken with the script, a little more nuance and subtlety allowed (for instance, perhaps some of the federales troops could have been shown refusing to carry out executions, or one of the priests could have been a little less pious), the film could have approached something like greatness.
The actors do what they can, but they’re hampered by the thudding, unwieldy script. Most of the best acting moments come when the characters aren’t actually talking, and so don’t have to work around the dialogue. Garcia in particular does a good job of showing the complexities of his character as he shouts rallying cries to his men which he himself doesn’t actually believe in, though that becomes called into question more and more as time goes on. My favorite scene with him is the aforementioned ‘alpha-male’ confrontation with El Catorce, where you can see the machinations working behind his inscrutable face even before the conversation ends (the fact that the filmmakers felt the need to have Sanchez actually draw attention to this is emblematic of the film’s problems).
Newcomer Maurici Kuri gives a surprisingly strong showing as Bl. Jose Sanchez; he overacts a little during the emotional scenes, but that can be excused as the heightened emotions of a teenager. His best scene is his martyrdom, where he shows both serenity in the face of death and the agony and grief he feels as his life is cut short.
The other standout performance is Oscar Isaac as El Catorce. His role mostly involves swaggering around acting tough (which he does very well), but late in the film he gets a moment where he finds himself standing almost numb with shock after inadvertently allowing another character to be captured. His evident grief and attempts to justify himself, culminating in his stumbling into Mass and kneeling in contrition, are among the best acting in the film.
Beyond these three, the acting generally is competent but not spectacular. As noted, the actors struggle with the poor script and so often come across as broad or cartoonish (the scene where Velarde and his wife discuss his joining the Cristeros is particularly wince-inducing). For the most part it’s possible to look past these problems, but they are annoying and occasionally take you out of the film.
That the film takes some notable liberties with historical fact is to be expected, though it’s occasionally troubling. I mentioned the softening of Fr. Vega’s character and the train massacre, but even more so is that the movie rather quietly skips over the tragic end of the Cristeros movement, which resulted in Calles giving few if any concessions and even going back on his promise of amnesty, executing more Cristeros than had actually died in the war itself. On the other hand, the film ends with a series of historical photographs and even video footage of the real-life men and women depicted in the film, which lends enough of a tragic, historical feel to almost make up for the unconvincingly triumphant ending.
Much has been said of the film’s timeliness, with President Obama taking the first steps down the same path President Calles trod. There is, indeed, a lot of disturbingly contemporary elements to Calles’s persecution, such as his dismissal of any opponents as ‘religious fanatics’ (the law against priests wearing vestments in public, meanwhile, is frighteningly similar to the recent ruling in England that Christians don’t have the right to wear crosses in public). As I watched I found myself considering what my response would have been to the various outrages that the government enacts against the Church in this film. The frightening thing is that I could very easily see many of these same laws being enacted in the near future (though today it wouldn’t be for fear of ‘destabilizing the government’ but in the name of ‘antidiscrimination’). Quite apart from any qualities or flaws it has, this is a sobering and thought-provoking film.
At the moment, the United States isn’t yet on the same level as Calles, and as Obama’s mandate hasn’t yet made it past the courts it’s uncertain whether even this first step will amount to much. However, the fact that someone – a U.S. President – has even tried to take that first step should be enough to give us pause. The fact that England, Spain, and other European countries are even further along the path that led to the Cristeros War should likewise make us nervous. This isn’t a great film, but it’s an important one, since it serves as a reminder that the same sequence of events that has started in Europe, Canada, and the United States has happened before in Mexico, where it led to a war. If nothing else, this film should serve as a warning sign.
But even considered apart from its real-world context, it’s a worthwhile experience. It’s beautifully shot, epic in scope, exciting, and emotionally gripping from start to finish. It has a number of very real flaws, and some viewers may find them insurmountable, but even non-believers may find enough manly excitement and emotional resonance to make the film worth their time. For Catholics and other Christians, meanwhile, it’s a must see.
Final Rating: 3/5. Recommended to Christians and those who enjoy an epic, exciting, emotionally engrossing film despite a poor script and meandering story.
Memorable Quotes:
Velarde: “If you start living in your memories, you’re already dead.”
Fr. Christopher: “There is no greater glory than to give your life for Christ.”
(distributing Communion, Fr. Vega comes to Velarde)
Fr. Vega: “You need to Confess first.”
Velarde: “Wouldn’t He already know?”
(beat)
Fr. Vega (moving on): “…You need to Confess.”
(during the attack on Ramirez’s ranch)
First Soldier: “He must be dead by now. Let’s go in.”
Second Soldier: “Right. You go first.”
Velarde (introducing himself): “I have been in two wars. I was twice decorated for bravery…”
El Catorce: “And he’s humble too!”
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