At long last, I have finally seen all of the 2004 rendition of The Alamo.
I’m not saying it’s a bad flick. It’s not great, but I’ve sat through much worse. And I’m not going to say it’s the least accurate representation of a historical event I’ve ever watched–hell, it’s not even the least accurate rendition of this particular historical event that I’ve ever watched–but it’s definitely not a movie you want watch while in a room with two Texans who are familiar with said event.
I know that historical accuracy has to be sacrificed in the name of storytelling and structure, but that’s really not going to stop my Dad and I from yelling”Bullshit!” at the screen over and over and repeatedly saying, “Well, actually, I believe….” and then whipping out the laptop to Google and confirm ourselves. We devolved into the worst form of know-it-alls who completely obliterated the movie watching experience. It would be like watching a sci-fi flick while sitting next to Dr. Brennan from Bones (in an odd ball connection, Emily Deschanel actually shows up in this movie as Rosanna Travis, albeit a Rosanna Travis who looks kinda consumptive).
We actually held ourselves together until cannons got involved. Then we started with the innocent musing on the utilizations of exploding projectiles (no actual assertions of wrongdoing here, but we had some questions…). But by the time the Mexicans were coming at the walls we were definitely skewering things. “That guy wasn’t down there!” “They didn’t breach into those rooms until later!” “That is NOT how Almeron Dickinson died!”
The aftermath of the battle only made it worse. I was ready to punch someone when it came to the delivery of the news to Houston (“Where the hell is Susanna?!?”) Dad nearly jumped up out of his chair while watching the Battle of San Jacinto (to which I had to say, “Seriously? You’re going to get pissed over the distance where they started shooting, more than over the entire Crockett ending??”). At one point we even turned on one another (“They didn’t have a cannon at San Jacinto!” “No, they had TWO!” “Did not!” “Did so! The Twin Sisters!”)
And while we both ended the experience shaking our heads at all of the little things they could have done to make it right without sacrificing the story in the process (and Mom was thanking God we were finally done)–it was strangely fun. I honestly think the movie would have fallen a bit flat if not for Dad and I having so much to rip into. After all, watching The Alamo is kinda like watching Titanic: you know the ending.