My review was written in October 1983 after a screening at the New York Film Festival.
"Last Night at the Alamo" is a low-budget Texas film that boasts a lot of actors' energy but lacks the cinematic style to let it escape from he specialized category. With nearly all the action set in a small Houston bar, pic perilously recalls a Southern-fried "Iceman Cometh".
Filmmakers Eagle Pennell and Kim Henkel (latter a co-scripter of Tobe Hooper's "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre") are fans of "The Wild Bunch", but what they have taken from that film is not its style or themes but rather the folksy, vibrant dialog of Walon Green and Sam Peckinpah. This gives "Alamo" considerable verbal texture, as characters carry on in local argot or cha about clothing bought at the "Monkey Ward's" department store.
Opening reel is so densely packed with four-letter expletives that the initially disarming device becomes tiresome. So, too, do the players, declaiming endlessly in the pipe dreams and complaints manner of barflies. Ichabod (Steve Matilla) is a scrawny young man, shooting pool, picking fights and trying to scoot his gal Mary (Tina-Bess Hubbard) off to the nearest hot-sheets motel. Claude (Louis Perryman) is a loud and foul-mouthed guy with wife trouble, constantly (and tediously) on the phone at the Alamo bar.
A late arrival is made by Cowboy Regan (Sonny Carl Davis), a smug, egocentric guy who believes he can "save" the Alamo, which has been sold by its owner and is due for immediate demolition to make way for high-rise buildings, appealing by phone to his old college roommate and now a state representative. Though he beats up an old high school rival Steve (J. Michael Hammond) who dares to doubt this claim, the effort to save the bar is, of course, just another pipe dream.
Director Pennell errs in shooting his film in a style reminiscent of live tv drama in the 1950s: low-key (for high contrast) lighting in black and white and claustrophobic framing (such as a foreground head, typically Claude's on the phone, dominating mid-ground action). Cumulative effect is oppressive. His actors are on too long a leash, with Louis Perryman's initially entertaining explosive swearing routine ending up sounding like a Steve Landesburg stand-up parody of a "good ole boy" dialect.
Lead player Davis, a balding young actor resembling Robert Duvall and Robert Stack, carries much of the picture by underplaying compared to the rest of the cast. Steven Matilla as "don't call me Ichabod" is quite funny in small doses and scripter Henkel has written himself in a cute John Sayles-esque deadpan role as Lionel, so laconic a critter that everyone else has to tell his personal anecdotes for him. The women's roles are seriously underwritten.
Tech credits are acceptable, though he direct sound recorded dialect gets a bit thick during some of the shouting matches.
