"The Mission," Roland Joffe's harrowing, fictionalized account of the evangelization and betrayal of native South American tribesmen, is finally available on DVD. I have not bought it yet, but it will be high on my Christmas list this year. Warner released it as a two-disc set with lots of goodies, including a "making of" special that I am eager to see.
If you consider yourself a serious Catholic and have not seen this movie, you ought to schedule some time for it. "The Mission" has some of the most beautiful moments -- visually and emotionally -- ever put on film. Briefly, the story is about Father Gabriel, a Jesuit who brings the Gospel to the hostile natives who live in dangerous, inaccessible highlands above a waterfall. The slaver Mendoza also seeks out the natives, but to bring them back as chattel. When Mendoza finds out his brother has been sleeping with his mistress, he murders him.
Dying inside with guilt, Mendoza accepts Fr. Gabriel's offer of reconciliation and seeks the forgiveness of the natives. Instead of killing him, they accept him into their community.
Because of political machinations between European powers, the pope, and the Jesuits, the two men are ordered to withdraw from their mission (Mendoza joined the Jesuits to complete his abandonment of his former life.) They refuse their superior's direct order to leave, remaining with the natives as soldiers approach to force them from their land.
Robert de Niro, as Mendoza, is the tortured centerpiece of the movie, and his performance reminds one of the power of film acting. I've seen the movie at least five times, and I am still reduced to tears at the moment when he realizes the natives have forgiven him. Jeremy Irons's Fr. Gabriel is a convincing portrait of a genuine pacifist, a man who eschews violence but not because of physical cowardice (as the ending makes clear).
The only thing that detracts from the movie are the left-wing political references sprinkled throughout the movie, derived from Latin American Cold War politics in the 1980s. It was "topical" when it came out in 1986 because of the civil wars in Nicaragua, El Salvador, and other Spanish-speaking nations. Than man's injustice to his fellow man is frequently manifest in politics, there can be no doubt; but in a movie like this, which derives its greatness from great themes of Western fiction -- death and life, freedom and slavery, sin and redemption, obedience and conscience -- transient politics intrude upon the work's integrity.
There are other flaws: at the end of the credits, when the cardinal looks at the audience with an accusatory stare, as if we are responsible for these murders, is too heavy-handed. Some lines (written by the incomparable Robert Bolt) fall flat, such as when Fr. Gabriel gives a brief speech whose theme is "God is love" -- a true statement, but a cliché as a sermon topic.
It occurs to me that you might be put off by these shortcomings, and I hesitate to write them in case it puts anyone off from seeing it (or seeing it again). You would miss other gorgeous scenes, like the crucified martyr falling down a raging waterfall, or Fr. Gabriel's "preaching" of the faith through music and icons.
You would also miss having yourself prodded by the central theme of "The Mission," which is that whether we fight with the sword or without it, faith must be strong enough to face down death, or it is unworthy of the name. At the heart of the film is the small, enduring belief that in a world smeared with ugliness and power-worship, beauty and goodness will ultimately triumph.
You convinced me. It's in my Netflix rental queue. Thanks for the tip!
"The Mission" is truly one of the great films. Among other scenes that were not mentioned in the posts is the scene reminiscent (perhaps based loosely upon) of the famous disputation at Salamanca over whether a native American was a human being, with a soul, or not; the movie version has the Indian choir presenting their proof by singing beautiful polyphony.
The climactic ending is one of the most powerful that I have ever seen. Even to think of it now brings back the memory of the stunned incomprehension, and, really, horror, that struck me as I watched it. When you see it, perhaps you too will think of the words of Psalm 2: "Why do the nations rage and the peoples devise futile plots..." (NCV trans.)