The Apostle Review
by Edwin Jahiel (e-jahiel AT uiuc DOT edu)February 21st, 1998
BY EDWIN JAHIEL
THE APOSTLE (1997) ** 1/2 Written, directed, executive produced by Robert Duvall. Photography, Barry Markowitz. Production design, Linda Burton, Editing, Steve Mack. Music, David Mansfield. Cast: Robert Duvall, Farrah Fawcett, Miranda Richardson, Tod Allen, John Beasley, June Carter Cash, Walter Goggins, Billy Joe Shaver, Billy Bob Thornton, Rick Dial, Mary Lynette Braxton, Zelma Lloyd, Sister Jewell Jernigan. Released by October Films. 133 minutes. Rated R (some violence, marital unfaithfulness).
Robert Duvall tried for 13 years to pitch his creation, "The Apostle." In vain. Hollywood not being Holy Wood, cautiously stays away from "deep" movies about religion, except for many Biblical epics, the life of Jesus (such as the underrated 1961 King of Kings) and "safe" historical movies (e.g. A Man for All Seasons). Babylon-on-the Pacific has produced a few, also safe films, about phony evangelists (Elmer Gantry, Marjoe and Leap of Faith come to mind) and the classic The Night of the Hunter with its demented killer-thief fake preacher.
Abroad, meaningful films that deal with faith, its problems, crises and quandaries, do not abound but do exist --by Ingmar Bergman (several), Robert Bresson (Diary of a Country Priest, A Man Escaped).Carl-Theodor Dreyer (The Passion of Joan of Arc, Ordet). Or the "political" Becket, taken from Becket or God's Honor, a great play by Jean Anouilh.
Finally, Duvall had to finance The Apostle himself. There's a catch with this film. Religion is not its soul. The film is a showpiece for Robert Duvall, at about age 66. Does he need this? He is an all-time great. In 34 years (his debut was as Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird) and in all of his 75 movies, he's shown extraordinary talent and versatility. At a rock-bottom minimum he should be remembered for THX 1138, Mash, the Godfather, the Great Santini, Apocalypse Now, True Confessions, Tender Mercies, Lonesome Dove, Wrestling Ernest Hemingway, Sling Blade.
In The Apostle he plays (and plays, and plays) "Sonny" Dewey, a wild and woolly Texas Pentecostal evangelist (since childhood), with wife and children. He has genuine faith, devotion, love for God and His creatures, but he is flawed by his temper and his womanizing.
Duvall's affection for his subject leads him into mysterious paths. In the opening sequence Sonny and his mother stumble onto a terrible car accident. With amazing eloquence the preacher proceeds to "save" willy-nilly a still-alive victim, then prides himself for scoring points with the Almighty. Soon after come then --colorful preaching when Sonny was a boy -- and now: spectacles of revivalism, with crowds, testimonials from the stage, people (including Sonny) shouting, singing, dancing, prancing, bouncing. This whether planned that way or not, comes out as ambiguous (is Sonny a faker?) and as ironic look at a certain slice of Americana. There are even a shot of mass arm-raisings by the faithful that recalls Nazi or Soviet salutes.
Ambiguous too (now a polite term for "confusing") is the status of Sonny and his wife Jessie (Farrah Fawcett). He loves yet neglects her as he puts his preaching first. He makes no bones about his infidelities. Jessie has taken a lover, Horace (Todd Allen) a young preacher junior in rank to Sonny. Jessie leaves Sonny. She is seen in bed with Horace -- openly? in a small town? there's something implausible here. (Some fellow-viewers thought that Jessie had divorced Sonny, others that she was already married to Horace, etc.)
In another bitter pill, Sonny learns that he has been deposed as leader of his church by the trickery of Jessie and Horace. He becomes violent. Later, when he finds "his beauties" (his boy and girl), playing softball with others, including Jessie and Horace, he totally loses control, smashes Horace's head with a bat, leaves him moribund.
Suddenly, keeping a oddly cool composure, Sonny leaves town in his car. He soon ditches it in a stream. He eventually reaches the small, predominantly black town of Bayou Boutte, Louisiana. His energy is literally incredible. He makes quick decisions, gets an instant job as a mechanic (he knows everything about cars), contacts aged black preacher Brother Blackwell (John Beasley) who had retired after two heart attacks, talks him into reopening a derelict church that belongs to the Brother, renovates it with the help of others (you expect him to say :"I coulda been a contractor"), restores a wreck of a school bus, does regular programs on the local radio, baptizes the cleaned up church "One Way Road to Heaven," gets an increasingly large (considering) congregation, and fires away with his preaching. Whew!
In Louisiana, Sonny changes his name to The Apostle E.F. which is pretty immodest and hubristic. The point of all this is supposed to be that fugitive Sonny is seeking redemption, just for his attack on Horace I guess, since other sins are not mentioned. Certainly not promiscuity, since the Apostle also starts fascinating and seducing Toosie, the radio station's secretary. She is played by Briton Miranda Richardson sporting a good southern accent and looking anorexically (The affair-to-be is not consummated).
What motivates Sonny must really be powerful compulsion to preach and organize. The sin that only whispers its name, and appears not to be felt by him, is megalomania, ego-tripping. It is also the sin of Duvall who is so taken with his own acting and the character he plays that he does not know (as a writer-director) where to draw the line. The movie is Duvall/Sonny from A to Z, and for each minute of its duration, an exhausting 131 of them, almost 8,000 seconds. There's so much of Sonny here that there is no time to flesh out any other character.
Duvall's performance is anti-Consigliere. I refer to his famous role of advisor (Consigliere) to Marlon Brando in The Godfather. As Tom Hagen, the single non-Sicilian-American of the "family," he was a strong, quiet presence. Here, as a strong but voluble presence, Duvall gives himself the only role that matters and lets all other elements of the movie (e.g. continuity, editing) fall where they may.
In Apocalypse Now, Duvall's Lt. Col. Kilgore had the unforgettable line "I love the smell of napalm in the morning! " In The Apostle it feels as though he's thinking "I love the sound of me around the clock!" That he is good at what he does is a given. But enough is enough.
On the other hand, this work that drips with colorful Americana, by virtue of its nature and locations is gratifyingly color blind and not class conscious. There is no racism except when redneck Billy Bob Thornton gets into a fight with Duvall. But soon Duvall' s powers of persuasion will tame Billly Bob. Bibles used physically, plus Gandhian non-violent exhortations, make him end up lacrymously embracing Duvall. This is a strong sequence -- but it does smack of Hollywoodist theatricality.
The overall concentration on religiosity (not religion) goes on and on to the point of audience fatigue. One has to be fascinated by Pentecostalism to stop counting the minutes. Depending on your curiosity and tolerance, you may be squirming in your seat anywhere from one to two hours.
Originally posted in the rec.arts.movies.reviews newsgroup. Copyright belongs to original author unless otherwise stated. We take no responsibilities nor do we endorse the contents of this review.
