Remember Hancock's Alamo!

Rating: 9/10 (6 October 2004)

I now have TWO favorite versions of 'The Alamo.' While the John Wayne version will always hold a special place in my heart, I found myself completely captivated by the 2004 version.
Both have their strong points. The 1960 version still has its comfortable fit--like an old pair of shoes, ragged but comfy after all these years. Both have magnificent cinematography, great musical scores and memorable characterization. I didn't think anything could challenge my images of John Wayne/Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie/Richard Widmark and Laurance Harvey/William Travis. However, I have quickly (after two viewings) come to be quite fond of the Billy Bob Thornton/Crockett, Jason Patric/Bowie and Patrick Williams/Travis characters.
SPOILERS AHEAD!
When I first heard of 'The Alamo' being remade, I assumed it would probably be a politically correct diatribe against all things American. I was pleasantly surprised to see that it avoided both that direction and the myth enforcing of the Wayne version. I believe director John Lee Hancock struck a happy medium.
I am not enough of a historian of this time period or of the Alamo specifically to be sure just HOW historically accurate Hancock's rendition is. It is clearly closer to the surviving documentary evidence than Wayne's was, however. I like Thornton's interpretation of Crockett very much and agree that his ending was probably much closer to the truth than Wayne's. I am not sure if his actual words to Santa Ana were recorded by surviving soldiers or if they were Leslie Bohem's creation. There seems to be enough evidence, though, to suggest that the Tennessee congressman probably DID survive the actual battle, only to die at the hands of the Mexican troops. Crockett's plucky final moments are just as befitting to a legend as dying with his gun firing.
Speaking of gun(s) firing, Bowie's death was also memorable. Patric's ill (apparently dying) Bowie casts a much different light on the old knife-fighter than Widmark's interpretation. Again, though, there is no dishonor in firing with both hands from one's virtual deathbed.
Meanwhile, Williams' Travis is more human and much more likable than Harvey's. His rapscallion past was not brought out at all in Wayne's version. Yet his remarks to the men (minus his legendary line in the sand gesture) note that Texas was a new beginning for many of the men. His youth, more than his pomposity, is brought out in the 2004 version.
I especially like Thornton's Crockett. This seems to be a much more historically accurate Crockett than Wayne-as-Crockett. In this version he is an ex-congressman, interested in getting in on the ground floor of a new nation--one he understands already has its fighting behind it. Only reluctantly is he dragged into a war. I think this is a very feasible explanation. Again, this Crockett does nothing to dishonor the legend. It merely attempts to separate man from legend. Like Daniel Boone, Crockett actually lived to see himself become a world-wide celebrity, with books and a theater production hugely exaggerating his exploits as a woodsman and fighter. Despite his desire for safety and privacy, he realized that his reputation meant something to many people--and he was willing to fight and die to protect it. Again, I think this is a very believable interpretation of Crockett. I certainly loved his gutsy answer to the Mexican army, playing their infamous 'cutthroat' battle song right back at them with his fiddle. Hancock was right in replaying this moment of the battle at the very end of the film.
Speaking of the end, like 'Pearl Harbor,' the film does not end with the fall of the Alamo. It follows Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid) and Santa Ana (played with wonderful aplomb by Emilio Echevarria) through the decisive Battle of San Jacinto. Unlike 'Pear Harbor,' this technique works. Rather than water down the product like the former did, this sequence puts the Battle of the Alamo in perspective.
Overall, I would call Hancock's Alamo a real winner. I just wish I had gotten to enjoy John O'Connor and Dean Semler's stunning cinematography and Carter Burwell's musical score on the big screen. O'Connor and Semler worked magic, with gorgeous sunsets, colorful uniforms and the hauntingly quiet, powerful images of the quietly advancing Mexican army during its final nighttime assault. The image of a lone bayonet advancing through the darkness will always be with me.
Wayne's version will always be a classic and a comfortable fit. Hancock's Alamo, though, is a truly superb film. This Alamo is certainly worth 'remembering.'