Martyrs of the Alamo

So Martyrs of the Alamo, yeah, the old silent one from 1915, directed by Christy Cabanne and produced by none other than D.W. Griffith. Right – the same Griffith who gave us Birth of a Nation. Honestly, I watched this one on a Tuesday in November, raining outside and my kaffe latte turning cold on the window sill. You know those grey Gothenburg afternoons where time just slows down? Anyway, perfect mood for an ancient flick.

Let’s be real: this film is full of those big gestures, those wild eyes and slapstick moustaches – I kept waiting for someone to pop out from behind a curtain and shout “Farsan!” No such luck. The actors, like Alfred Paget as Davy Crockett and Sam De Grasse as General Santa Anna, manage to look both heroic and completely lost, a bit like when you try to act tough in a snowball fight and get nailed by your own little brother.

There’s this sense of trying desperately hard to build up American mythos. You almost hear the tinfoil hats crackling. And yeah, the film totally biffs it on “racial stuff”. Mexicans are proper baddies, close to comically evil, which feels pretty wrongheaded now (and, let’s be honest, probably did even then if you had an ounce of critical thinking).

But… here’s the kicker: I still felt something. There’s raw energy in 1910s films you just don’t get anywhere else, all those exaggerated expressions and frantic action! I remembered how my grandfather once told me stories about Swedish volunteers at the front lines somewhere far, far away, and I thought, everyone’s got their Alamo, you know?

Watch this if you’re curious about dusty old cinema, or want to see what “epic” looked like before popcorn. Just, maybe don’t invite your most politically correct cousin. And have a cinnamon bun or two handy, this one goes down better with fika.

watch the full movie on Mavshack Movies on YouTube

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