The Apostle: Achingly, Palpably Real

This review was published originally on cinekklesia on July 21, 2007.

When one finds him- or herself taking a minority position regarding a film, several different outcomes can result. One possible outcome is frustration: the person can feel pressured to like or dislike a film just because an overwhelming majority holds the favorable/unfavorable position, and he/she can feel upset that so many people hold the obviously incorrect view. (Have they all been brainwashed? Is there something in the water?) Another outcome is transcendence: the person recognizes that a majority of people regard a movie differently than he/she, but that person also realizes that the world may one day come to understand what is the true take on the movie.

In regards to The Apostle (1998), I am in a position similar to the second outcome. I do not claim any "transcendent" understanding of the movie, but I definitely sense that I hold a position in conflict with that of most audience members — and perhaps that of the filmmaker himself.

Robert Duvall is the filmmaker in question, serving not only as director, but also screenwriter, executive producer, and lead actor. Duvall plays Euliss "Sonny" Dewey, a Pentecostal preacher from Texas who finds himself in a tight spot. His wife, Jessie (Farrah Fawcett), wants to divorce him (she also happens to be sleeping with the youth pastor), and his church has just voted him out of office (the specific reason for his church's action is unclear). His entire life comes asunder, he takes to booze, and in a fit of rage, swings a baseball bat at the youth pastor's head, putting him into a coma.

At this point, Sonny runs away, sheds his identity, and eventually ends up in a small Louisiana town, where he (what else?) takes up preaching again under the new, mysterious identity of "The Apostle E.F." He encounters some initial skepticism, but he soon starts to gain the trust and admiration of the locals. He reopens a dormant church building with the help of a retired pastor who used to preach there, and he starts to attract a following with his fervent oratory.

What is most remarkable about Sonny is his all-or-nothing approach to living and preaching. He pours almost every ounce of energy he has into his new church, working extra jobs to bring in revenue, advertising the ministry on the local radio station, driving folks to Sunday services. Despite his past, his motives are pure: he simply loves the Lord and wants to bring more people into relationship with Him. The entire trajectory of his life points towards that end.

Yet, he has put someone in a coma. He is running from the law. It seems that he has a history of fooling around with other women — and in the movie, he tries to initiate an intimate relationship with a local woman who herself is separating from her husband. This stark contrast fuels what seems to be the prevailing sentiment regarding Sonny Dewey: unease. On the one hand, he seems to be doing good work: bringing people to Jesus, facilitating reconciliation, teaching about love. His passion is palpable. He clearly is bearing fruit. On the other hand, he seems unable to exercise adequate restraint: the passion that fuels his ministry also leads to lust and unrighteous anger. We're not sure what to make of him: the fact that his faults are not just minor vices but "big" sins and an outright felony makes us confused and perhaps upset.

Or does it? I have never understood fully why the character of Sonny Dewey seems to produce so much unease — especially since I find him wholly positive. I'm not saying that his sins aren't serious (they are), nor am I saying that he is a paragon of virtue (he isn't), nor do I suggest that he shouldn't suffer the consequences of his actions (he should, and he does). However, in regards to his core character, there is no doubt: his life is almost wholly and solely devoted to the Lord. He is passionate about loving God and loving neighbor; nobody can accuse him of being lukewarm (Rev 3:15-6) for Jesus has set his heart on fire, and nothing, it seems, can put it out.

As mentioned, his anger and adultery are sinful manifestations of the passionate core of his being. Because Sonny is fully human, he is a sinner, and his sin has to manifest itself in some way; it tragically does so via the same passion that he uses to preach the Good News. However, he at least has a passionate core. He at least has sought tirelessly to bring people to Jesus, even in the midsts of his moral crisis. Despite his serious sin, he still has done good work with loving motives. Do we doubt the good that God has done through the hands of conflicted persons like Sonny Dewey? Was Sonny's years of ministry conducted in vain, or did they bring glory to God? Does not God redeem those who love Him — along with the works they have done (Rom 8:28)?

As such, Sonny Dewey is both a tragic figure and a highly positive one. His life serves as an example of God's power to build up a servant, to discipline him/her when necessary, and to redeem that same servant for future work. Sonny Dewey is not a false, sugar-coated character, but one who is achingly, palpably real. His life is an illustration of hope that is tempered and matured by tragedy. His story is well worth your time.