As a John Wayne disciple, I was a bit put off that producer/director Ron Howard wanted to make this movie in the first place. After all, the Duke already put his career and money on the line for his 1960 epic on the courageous stand of 188 men against the 2,000-man Mexican army led by the infamous Santa Anna, culminating in a battle March 6, 1836 that killed every defender.

Howard ending up leaving the project, but as much as I almost hate to say it, director John Lee Hancock and the ensemble of filmmakers who took up the movie's mission put together a very, very well-made film. Their Alamo is a vision of grandeur and presents both sides in a manner not insulting to either. This is an Important and Idealistic Great American Movie.

	There, see that Mexican jumping bean? It just never stops jumping! Inconceivable!

Billy Bob Thornton fills Duke's shoes as the King of the Wild Frontier, Davy Crockett, legendary backwoods adventurer turned gentleman Congressman. When he came to Texas, the myth of the frontier met the reality of freedom-fighting, and Thornton supplies Crockett's persona with bravado and modesty, proud of his status but also burdened by it. John Wayne made Crockett seem more like the bigger-than-life legend, but Thornton's style was just fine in a more understated but just as dominating presence.

Filling out the two major role-players from the battle are Jason Patric as Col. Jim Bowie and Patrick Wilson as Lt. Col. William Travis.

Studly, stubbled Patric finally recovered from Speed 2 five years later with a positive review in 2002's Narc. Here he plays Bowie, he of the knife, with gusto, even through Bowie's illness, and Patric is exceptional as the Colonel of the volunteer militia assigned to the mission. Wilson (HBO's Angels in America) is the yin to Bowie's yang as Travis, in charge of the military men and the fortress in general that the Alamo turned into. If Bowie is a two-bit drunk, Travis is a "dandy" not seen as fit to lead a group of hardened frontiersmen.

Naturally, though they are at each other's throats for over an hour, there's the "we now understand" moment when all men end their tiffs and join for a common cause. They decide to kick butt as one rather than one another's, and Texas becomes more than just a lot of free land and money-maker but a land of liberty and opportunity against a despotic leader. In every war movie, it works, here as well as anywhere.

Thankfully the movie doesn't avoid heroic bluster and pro-American talk that one might expect from a lot of the self-hating liberals in charge of Hollywood. Even they know that middle America is proud of the country and believe in Manifest Destiny that drove the nation in the 19th century. While I understand that the filmmakers had to use the modern idea that "war is hell," they also recognize that "Remember the Alamo" isn't just an historic phrase but an idea, and patriotism isn't a dirty word.

Where the 2004 Alamo really stands out against '60 is the use of Generalissimo Santa Anna. Whereas John Wayne never showed the Mexican tyrant the "Texians" are trying to free themselves from, Emilio Echevarrķa Die Another Day is huge in this movie, overwhelming in a role that demands it, as the brutal and almost insane-for-power Generalissimo.

The battle for the Alamo, however, may have been the weakest part of the movie. The tension leading up to it, and the characterization of those involved, was impressive, but the decision to be true to history and have it take place at 4 a.m. kept the audience, well, in the dark, pun intended. I lost track of many of the guys we spent most the time with, and couldn't tell who was doing what, where and when.

Also, it angered me that the filmmakers had the fort's defenders asleep and unaware as the Mexicans attacked stealthily. Actually, everyone was fully aware of what was going on, and you can bet there was a good bit of noise from both sides as the battle commenced.

The script itself follows your basic war movie script, with a few artistic embellishments to stand out. It works. The performances makes history come alive, so even discounting the issues I have with that battle, the other two hours of the movie works on all other counts.

You can probably guess the ending: the Mexicans win the battle, but lose the war. But unlike the '60 version, this Alamo might as well be named "The Birth of the Texas Republic," because like Pearl Harbor, it feels the need to stretch for the happier ending, stretching another half-hour to show Sam Houston's triumph over Santa Ana at San Jacinto. It's as if Hollywood thinks the audience can't accept a movie that asks us to appreciate the event for what it was and not what we want it to be.

Director John Lee Hancock already had a relationship with Dennis Quaid, helming another true story and rah-rah flick, The Rookie two years ago. Maybe that's why Hancock let Quaid's Houston complete the film. Because of that, at least this Alamo can be separated from the 1960 version which ends after the Alamo battle. Both are worth seeing, and on the big screen the viewer can appreciate pure celebrated Americana for the better.

The best compliment and recommendation I can give is that even through the grand scale of the historic siege, it remains intimate for the viewer.