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Rev. Sinner/Saint
In The Apostle Robert Duvall creates an atypical -- and
refreshing -- Christian hero.
by brad cope
Religious movies tend to come in two categories:
1) saccharin-sweet and 2) Christian-bashing.
Category No. 1 contains "Jesus of Nazareth" and almost any film with "Angels" in the title. In category No. 2: Robert Mitchum's murderous Rev. Harry Powell in "The Night of the Hunter," Kevin Anderson's born-again wife-beater in "Eye of God" and a host of other Christian flunkies.
But there is another category -- faith-stretching movies. These films challenge the black-and-white oversimplification of category No. 1 and the black-and-black skepticism of category No. 2. Here some of the greatest directors do their finest work. Witness Bergman's "The Seventh Seal," Scorsese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" and Von Trier's "Breaking the Waves."
While "The Apostle" -- Robert Duvall's directoral debut -- doesn't match Bergman, Scorsese or Von Trier, the movie poses many of the same faith-stretching questions: How does God work? Why doesn't justice prevail? Can sinners find redemption?
Unlike most other religious films, "The Apostle" doesn't answer the questions it raises. But like the great directors before him, director/producer/writer/star Duvall gambles that moviegoers will accept that task.
The plot is pure Southern gothic. Eulis "Sonny" Dewey (Robert Duvall) is a Pentecostal preacher in Texas with a vibrant ministry and a wandering eye. His wife, Jessie (Farrah Fawcett), and her lover, Horace, conspire to take Sonny's church from him. In a fit of rage, Sonny drags Jessie through the neighborhood softball field and puts Horace, the church youth minister, into a coma with a well-timed bat swing. Fearing the police, Sonny leaves the ball field and the state in his luxury car with personalized plates ("Sonny"). Surely that's Jerry Springer on deck.
Yet angry, womanizing, homicidal Sonny flees Texas only to serve God in Louisiana. He baptizes himself "the Apostle E.F." in a reedy bayou. He starts a multi-racial church in a backwater Cajun town. He repents of his murderous rage ("Lord, let Horace live"). Sonny's muddled morals force viewers to answer some probing questions: Is he a sinner or a saint? And what am I?
Much has been made of Duvall's sympathetic portrayal of Pentecostalism. While such comments may reflect more on the state of the press than the content of the movie (in Hollywood, a sin-stained preacher is considered a "sympathetic" character), critics justly praise the film's dead-on detail -- from Sonny's call-and-response sermonizing to the Tony Chachere's creole seasoning tucked almost out of sight in a Louisiana kitchen. In one scene, Sonny and four other pastors tag-preach at a tent meeting -- without a hint of directoral ridicule. If Christians wrestle with Sonny's questionable character, skeptics grapple with his genuine compassion.
If anything, Sonny disturbs us in much the same way as another Louisiana Pentecostal minister -- Jimmy Swaggart. After he confessed to adultery in 1988, the Assemblies of God imposed a two-year discipline of silence on Swaggart. To keep his Baton Rouge-based ministry afloat, he started preaching three months later. The denomination defrocked Swaggart, who -- like Sonny -- went solo.
More than 10 years later, Swaggart's remaining followers continue to idolize him. In Randall Balmer's article on Swaggart in the March 2, 1998 issue of "Christianity Today," church member Vickie Whittenburg told Balmer, "It's the anointing, regardless of the sin in one's life. It's a gift from God, and God doesn't take it back." Despite his sins, Swaggart appears to minister effectively.
"The Apostle" challenges viewers precisely because it presents a fictional Swaggart -- a sinner/saint -- and asks them to cast the first stone. As fellow sinners, few do.
Christians, in more honest moments, admit that their lives don't fall into preset extremes of sin or righteousness. Believers are, as Martin Luther said, simul justus et peccator, simultaneously just and sinners. Christians chart courses of mottled gray, not black and white, a fact film makers -- and believers -- often forget. Sonny's "grayness" is edgy but understandable. In his triumphs and flaws, we see ourselves. Verisimilitude tends to find its mark.
In one of the final scenes, Sonny preaches to a congregation that knows about his past failings. Still, one confused churchgoer comes forward to accept Christ during the altar call. The fallen apostle tells him, "Once you're saved it's a done deal. You are a saint." That's the gospel in a nutshell.