The Southern tradition of Pentecostal preaching focuses on power – primarily on the power of the “Holy Ghost”, the “blood of Jesus”, and the declared “Word of God”. The expression of this power is most often offered up as fiery, exuberant sermons delivered to congregations of enthusiastic worshippers.
When Robert Duvall set out to capture this unique cultural stream in his 1997 film The Apostle, he was met with understandable skepticism. Cinematic depictions of these passionate church services often frame the scene with ridicule and exaggerations, portraying the participants as buffoonish and the ministers as charlatans or hypocrites.
Duvall was attempting something else. He was aiming to capture, as authentically as possible, these infectious and complex spiritual experiences along with the humanity of the preachers that lead them. There is not a single inch of satire in Duvall’s film. He populated his fictional landscape with real ministers and congregants (save for a few roles that required more experienced actors’ talents). Speaking from personal experience, I can attest that the film is staggering in its authenticity. My grandfather, a Pentecostal minister for more than 50 years before he passed, saw the film and wept.
Duvall plays Sonny Dewey, who has been preaching since he was 12 years old. He travels the country and ministers to literally anybody who will listen (and some who won’t). But when he discovers that his wife (Farrah Fawcett) has been unfaithful to him – an implied reciprocation for Sonny’s own infidelities – his control begins to slip. He is kicked out of his own church; and his efforts to both quietly pray with his wife and performatively display his magnanimity fail to change the outcome. A drunken, impulsive episode ends with him violently attacking his ex-wife’s lover, and Sonny is forced to suddenly flee.
He changes his name – formally dubbing himself “The Apostle E.F.” – and sets out into a proverbial wilderness, eventually landing in a small Louisiana community where he begins to renovate and rebuild the local church. His past is never far from him as he methodically treads a tricky path towards redemption: preaching, working, ministering, and praying, all while knowing that justice will eventually find him one way or another.
Duvall’s portrayal of a sincere, but deeply flawed, man is textured in uncommonly compelling ways. His faith isn’t a façade, but it also hasn’t rid him of his temptations. It’s understandable to question why he wouldn’t simply turn himself in and account for his transgressions. But he perceives his efforts to rebuild this church as a holy mandate, delivered to him on borrowed time preceding an inevitable judgment. It is a season of grace afforded to a sinful man that he has no intention of wasting.
He is powerless to save his marriage or his reputation. He is powerless to restrain his fury or to resist violence. But to this man who believes God called him to preach as a young boy, the greatest power of all is the power of the gospel to transform a destiny.
We watch him exercise that power in numerous ways. He witnesses to a dying couple on the side of the road following an accident. He drags a drunkard out of a bar declaring the power of Jesus to help him get sober. In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, an embarrassed and belligerent man (Billy Bob Thornton) drives a bulldozer to the front of the church threatening to tear it down. Duvall’s apostle diffuses the threat and then leads the man in prayer towards a presumed conversion.
The Apostle has been included on every iteration of the Arts and Faith Top 100 list, despite residing in relative obscurity from a marketing standpoint. It’s never received a Blu-ray release and is intermittently unavailable to stream. But I would contend that once someone has seen the film, it is difficult to forget. There is something deeply authentic about the portrait of this subculture and the people in it. Moreso, there is something deeply human about it. However we may feel about the choices Duvall’s character makes, it is difficult to ignore the positive impact he begins to have on the community into which he retreats.
There’s a resonance in recognizing that we are all capable of great good and great wrong. We want to believe we are mostly good people, until our choices contradict us in moments of weakness. We lose our temper at the worst times. We flirt with our desires a bit too freely. And we want to believe that even if we must account for where we have hurt or damaged other people, the measure of our stories will be more than the worst choices we’ve made.
The Apostle concludes with an extended church service. It is humble and small, but the building is filled. As Duvall’s minister begins to give his sermon, police officers quietly slip into the sanctuary. He sees them and asks for their indulgence. Church is just getting started.
What proceeds is one of the most earnest and humbly endearing portraits of rural charismatic worship ever committed to film. The crew shot the service in real time, without breaks for coverage. Testimonies were given by real people, including a few children. The exclamations of praise were as organic as documentary footage. And Robert Duvall got in the creative zone to deliver a sermon of fervor and righteous zeal thundering towards heaven about the love of God and the power of the gospel. As his sermon concludes, he gives an invitation to anyone listening who would accept Jesus as their savior and a young man (an early role for Walton Goggins) tearfully accepts. In praying with him, Duvall says, “You’re goin’ to Heaven son. I’m goin’ to jail, you’re goin’ to Heaven.” A man helpless to prevent his fate testifies to the saving power of the gospel. Judgment and redemption had both arrived.
I contend that The Apostle still resonates all these years later, and largely without much publicity, simply because it tells the truth. People contain multitudes. Faith is rarely either simple or easy. Redemption often requires losing everything to find it. These truths carry their own unique power that is difficult to dismiss.
— Reed Lackey, 2025
Directed by: Robert Duvall
Arts & Faith Lists:
2011 Top 100 — #22
2020 Top 100 — #35
2025 Top 100 — #33