Le prédicateur

I didn't grow up down South, or even in the midwest, but I do know a little bit about the Pentacostal Church and Christian fundamentalism. Robert Duvall is an ambitious actor and film maker, and The Apostle hits home with its perceptive and loving portrayal of country people in the United States. It is refreshing to see that culture portrayed as something other than gaggles of yahoos. The Apostle focuses on the community spirit of the church, and thereby shatters some of the mystery of its appeal in a culture as self-centered as our own. There are no saints in this story, just a protagonist and his supporters trying to make sense of a country in which there is little love and way too much usury. The film is harsh on a number of levels, very no-nonsense though drawn out at various moments. But it's real, and that's more than can be said for ninety per cent of what passes for films about U.S. culture these days. It's said by some folks that Robert Duvall has been trying to make this film for a lot of years, and there are parts of The Apostle that contain faint echoes of his 1983 project Tender Mercies. It hardly matters, since both are interesting films for different reasons. Some day we'll see Robert Duvall as the vast repository of Americana he really is, until then, The Apostle is one of the best testimonies to his strengths that I know of. Can I get a witness?

In order to fully appreciate "The Apostle" it might help to have some experience with southern Pentecostal culture. I do, and was completely taken in by the film. My wife, on the other hand, doesn't have that experience and understands neither the film nor my fondness for it. But I think that, if one is not distracted or confused or simply put off by the loud, emotional, sometimes corny religiosity portrayed here, one can see a strong, compelling story of a seriously, ultimately fatally flawed man whose faith in God and in God's mission for him reaches to his very core.

On the surface, one can view Sonny Dewey as just another example of a certain type of religious fraud: the backslapping, perpetually-grinning, wisecracking good old boy who uses religion and exploits his flock for his own selfish ends. He looks like someone who doesn't practice what he preaches. He womanizes, he's not above taking a snort from this pocket flask, he has a troubled marriage and we get the hint that he is the source of more than his share of the trouble, even to the extent of driving his wife into the arms of another man. He seems to be just another Elmer Gantry or, to pick from the real world, he's just like one of the fallen televangelists of recent years. But just when you're comfortable with that judgment of him, Sonny proves you wrong. He admits to his faults, some more freely than others. But he makes no excuses for them and, in the end, he knows that he is going to pay for them.

What really draws me into the film, and what really makes Sonny interesting for me, is the way Duvall has made him such a complex character. He's a bad guy and a good guy. He is darkness and he is light. He is sometimes endearing and other times someone you really don't feel comfortable trusting. But by creating this ambiguity, Duvall does a service not only to the way religious leaders are characterized in film, he also pays homage to core religious issues. By diving into the murky waters of Sonny's soul, Duvall goes into territory known to any seriously religious person. As much as you might want things to be black and white, a good portion of the time you're being pulled back into the shadows: there are good intentions and evil deeds; there are selfless aspirations and appetites to be fed. Sometimes you swing wildly from one side to the other. Sometimes you are on an even keel. Sometimes you're not sure.

Faith and work determine how such a struggle will turn out. Sonny is energized by both. He believes in what he is doing. He believes that God has given him a mission and he is determined to accomplish it, even in spite of himself. While it might be tempting to make a stark contrast between the message Sonny preaches and the actions he has done that are contrary to it, one must always remember that a good preacher always preaches to himself as well as his congregation. But some of the more revealing moments of the film are not when Sonny is in front of a congregation, or even with other people generally, but when he is alone with God: ranting at God in anger; dedicating himself to God in the moment that he becomes the Apostle; the soul-searching moments when he forgives his wife and resigns himself to his fate.

The no-punches-pulled realness of Sonny's struggle is a refreshing departure from the usual film portrayals of religious figures: plaster saint, con-man, one-dimensional milquetoast. But it also brings to the forefront the question of whether Sonny, or any of us, can be used for divine purpose.

"The Apostle" is beautifully filmed and captures well a portion of the rural South: you can almost feel the humidity and smell the swampwater. And while the well-known actors in the film (Farrah Fawcett, Billy Bob Thornton, Miranda Richardson) all turn in fine performances, it is the unknowns --the church members and townfolk -- that really give the film an added authenticity.

You can't help but being mesmerized by Robert Duvall in the title role. He must of seen a lot of southern preachers as he grew up, because he wrote this as well and the role suited him to a tee.

The supporting cast is fine, with Rick Dial and John Beasley getting kudos for their work, but the movie is first and foremost about The Apostle. If you like Robert Duvall as an actor, you will like this movie. His attention to detail in his roles is well known. He brings quirks and nuances to help flesh out his characters, and this role is no different.

The Apostle is a flawed man who can lift others up, but has trouble lifting himself up. And that contradiction is what gives this movie its flavor. All-in-all, a fine movie.

Superior acting and a plot based on realism make this a classic movie of actual southern life ... a life that I experienced as a child and adolescent. Duvall's evangelist portrayal is not only convincing but eerie in the way it so fully represents many southern ministers of the gospel ... be they true believers or be they charlatans. I can't help but wonder if the cast was comprised of local folks ... or at least folks reared in the south ... rather than professional actors. They all did an excellent job contributing to the realism of this movie. I almost always enjoy a movie that "tells it like it is" ... and sofar, this is one of the most enjoyable I have ever seen.

This movie is another powerful exhibit in the case for why there *should* be an Oscar category for Best Casting.

Apart from Mr. Duvall's identifying acting, so rightly hailed elsewhere on this forum, what truly makes this film stand out as so genuine, so founded, so real, is the casting.

Take the radio guy, right down to his supermarket-style glasses. Take the Rev. Blackwell, fighting to hold back his bursting enthusiasm for Jesus so as not to have another heart attack. Take the talkative lady who almost clashes with the fat woman with twins - haven't we seen them both in our churches? Take the Church Board representatives at the beginning of the film, I feel like I know a few like them! Take the elderly gentleman with the trumpet, struggling to play but doing it from his heart, I've seen it. And in the midst of it, enter mega-star Billy Bob Thornton - blending into the mix just like one of the rest. Bottom line is, there is simply not one character that doesn't come across as believable simply by *being* there, even before you see them act.

Academy, awake, let there be a Casting Category now.