Mirando al Cielo, More Faith from Fathom

Jose Sanchez del Rio is a saint for all Catholics. He was venerated by Pope John Paul II, beautified by Pope Benedict XVI, and canonized by Francis (presumably with the permission of his master, Xi Jinping). The fourteen-year-old saint would be the first to protest the current Pope’s subservient deal with the CCP, because he was martyred refusing to recant his faith under the Mexican Federales’ torture. Screenwriter-director Antonio Pelaez’s dramatically chronicles the short life and holy passion of Saint Jose in Mirando al Cielo, which has a special one-night screening this Tuesday, via Fathom Events.

Since the not-yet-Saint Jose’s two older brothers joined the Cristero Revolution for religious liberty, against the Calles regime, his parents were reluctant to let their youngest follow their example. However, the just-barely-teenager was determined to defend his faith—and thereby earn his place in heaven. In a twist worthy of classical tragedy, it was his “godfather,” Rafael Picazo Sanchez, the local Federal boss, who will send him there, as we see in flashbacks during corrupt official’s unlikely confession.

None of this is really spoilery, because Pelaez clearly conceived Mirando al Cielo as a passion play. Different standards of narrative story-telling and characterization will apply, regardless if secular heathens like it or not. Yet, no amount dramatic realism will change the fact Saint Jose was tortured to death by the leftist Calles regime, because of his unwavering Catholic faith.

So, this film is a cinematic passion play, but it is also a high-quality period production. Pelaez and cinematographer Wolf Parra take full advantage of some striking locations and they get the most out of their “heavenly” lighting techniques. Mirando al Cielo translates to “Looking at Heaven,” which clearly inspired their visual approach.

For Greater Glory: the Fight for Religious Liberty in Mexico

It could be said socialist “President” Plutarco Calles made Mexico a holier place.  He was ultimately responsible for the canonization of twenty-five Mexican saints, by martyring them during the Christero War.  His brutal “anti-clerical” laws inspired a heroic rebellion, dramatized in Dean Wright’s For Greater Glory (trailer here), which would have been thematically appropriate for Memorial Day weekend but opens this Friday across the country instead.

General Enrique Gorostieta Velarde does not believe in the Catholic faith, but in religious liberty—perhaps enough to even die for it.  He has also been offered an unusually high salary to take command of the hardscrabble Christero forces.  Before his appointment, the Christero rebels had won embarrassing victories, but they were not considered a serious threat to the Calles regime.  However, Gorostieta is a man to be reckoned with.

Calles is a duly elected dictator, who razes churches and executes foreign born priests like the kindly Father Christopher, played by Peter O’Toole (who must enjoy the irony of such a pious role, given his notoriously checkered private life).  Glory is not shy about depicting the violent oppression meted out by the Calles forces, most notably with their treatment of José Luis Sánchez del Río, the captured mascot of Gorostieta’s army, who joined the Christeros after witnessing Father Christopher’s state-sanctioned murder.  However, the film does not just wave the bloody shirt.  Christeros like the legendary “El Catorce” take the battle to the Federales good and hard, heedless of their superior numbers, in several satisfying scenes of vintage warfighting.

Of course, Glory is a prime example of one of the fundamental laws of cinema: don’t mess with Andy Garcia.  Perfectly cast as Gorostieta, he captures both the swagger and the gravitas of the principled man of action.  It is easy to see why men would follow him into battle.  Just as Garcia looks the part of Gorostieta, Ruben Blades is the near spitting image of Calles, aptly conveying his arrogance and ruthlessness. 

Santiago Cabrera is also quite a riveting presence as Father Vega, a priest turned guerrilla general, while young Mauricio Kuri is surprisingly poised as Sánchez del Río.  It is a strong and accomplished cast, even featuring Oscar nominee Catalina Sandino Morena (for Maria Full of Grace) as Christero fund-raiser Adriana.  Though a bit of an undercooked role, she projects a strong presence nonetheless.  However, Eva Longoria seems to be dropped into the film merely for decorative effect as Gorostieta’s wife, Tulita.  Arguably, the most intriguing supporting turn comes from the ever-reliable Bruce Greenwood as American Ambassador Dwight Morrow, sent to broker a deal to keep the petroleum flowing, duly fulfilling his brief despite the twinges of his conscience.

Indeed, Glory shines a spotlight on some conveniently overlooked Mexican and American history.  Had Coolidge been more Reaganite and backed the Christeros, the Twentieth Century might have been much more prosperous and pleasant for Mexico.  Instead, Calles’s PRI party would dominate Mexico for decades, whereas Calles himself briefly took refuge in America during a period of involuntary exile, where he fell in with the marginalized fascist movement (maybe he even met Morrow’s future son-in-law, Charles Lindbergh).  Frankly, he ought to be regarded as one of history’s worst despots.

Granted, Glory is not exactly the most nuanced film, but there is not a lot of room for subtlety in such a brazen episode of religious persecution.  Though director Dean Wright’s background is in special effects, he shows a strong aptitude for old school cavalry and artillery battles.  (The English language dialogue is a bit of a misstep though, in contrast to the greater authenticity subtitled Spanish would have lent the film.)  Pretty stirring stuff, For Greater Glory is earnestly recommended for everyone concerned about state encroachments on religious liberty, but still enjoys a sweeping historical tragedy.  It opens nationwide this Friday (6/1), including the AMC Empire and Village 7 theaters in New York.

SIFF ’12: The Last Christeros

One of the Twentieth Century’s bloodiest assaults on religious freedom happened in the western hemisphere.  It was perpetrated by “revolutionary” socialist president Plutarco Calles, whose iron-fisted anti-clerical policies inspired a real grassroots revolution.  By the 1930’s an uneasy and imperfect peace had been brokered, but scattered bands of Cristero resistance fighters held out as best they could.  One of the final squads grapples with their destiny in Matías Meyer’s The Last Christeros (trailer here), which screens during the 2012 Seattle International Film Festival.

Mexico is still a land of wide vistas John Ford could love, but it is steadily closing in on the Cristero remnants.  Pursued by a company of Federales, Col. Florencio Estrada’s troops are running low on everything, including bullets.  Word reaches them of an amnesty, which some of the men are willing to consider.  However, Estrada has been down that road before.  Calles had violated the terms of truces before and the period of his unelected “Maximato” was still underway.  Though he misses his wife and daughters, Estrada has long since realized he will meet his end through this war, one way or another.

To establish the stakes of the Cristero revolution, Meyer opens the film with the 1969 oral history recording of Francisco Campos, who very well may have been the last Cristero.   However, that is about as deeply as the film delves into the political, historical, and religious significance of the civil war.  Instead, Last Christeros (for some reason, the international title carries the Anglicized “h,” while most references to the Cristeros maintain the original spelling) is an impressionistic depiction of the trying conditions endured by the weary freedom fighters.  Theirs is not an existential life though.  Rather, they live for a purpose.

Though the ensemble consists largely of neophyte actors, they all look convincingly gaunt and weathered.  Alejandro Limon is particularly haunting as the dedicated (and/or resigned to his fate) Estrada.  Yet, the picture’s defining work is that of cinematographer Gerardo Barroso, who creates painterly-like tableau of the rugged terrain and hardscrabble villages the Cristeros silently trudge through.  Galo Duran’s evocative soundtrack also helps set an appropriately wistful mood.

For those thinking the Cristero revolt would also readily lend itself to a more traditional historical drama take heart—Andy Garcia rides into theaters with For Greater Glory on June 8^th.  This mini-boomlet of interest in the Cristeros is actually quite timely.  It reminds us of the price many have paid for liberty, in an election year.  If not exactly a work of advocacy cinema, Meyer certainly respects the Cristeros’ sacrifices.  Recommended for open minded cineastes, The Last Christeros screens tomorrow (5/21), Wednesday (5/23), and the Wednesday following (5/30) as part of this year’s Seattle International Film Festival.