If you walked into a theater in 2012 to see the For Greater Glory movie, you probably weren't prepared for the sheer scale of the violence. Or the history. Most people outside of Mexico—and honestly, plenty within Mexico—had never even heard of the Cristero War. It’s this massive, gaping hole in the standard North American history curriculum. We talk about the Mexican Revolution of 1910, sure. But the brutal religious civil war that followed a decade later? Total silence.
The film, directed by Dean Wright, tries to fix that. It throws you headfirst into the 1920s. Think dusty plains, federales with Mausers, and a government hell-bent on scrubbing the Catholic Church out of existence. It’s a heavy watch. Andy Garcia plays General Enrique Gorostieta Velarde, a man who, ironically, wasn't even religious when he took command of the rebel forces.
That’s the first thing you’ve gotta understand about this story. It’s not just a "faith film." It’s a political thriller about what happens when a state decides that a specific belief system is an enemy of progress.
The Real History Behind the For Greater Glory Movie
The movie centers on the Calles Law. President Plutarco Elías Calles—played with a chilling, rigid intensity by Rubén Blades—didn't just dislike the church. He saw it as a colonial relic that kept the people poor and the government weak. So, he cracked down. Hard.
We’re talking about the seizure of property. Foreign priests were deported. Public worship was banned. If you were a priest and you didn't register with the state, you were basically a criminal. The For Greater Glory movie depicts these moments with a sort of gritty realism that feels more like a Western than a Sunday school lesson.
When the peaceful protests and economic boycotts failed, the Cristeros rose up. Their battle cry, "¡Viva Cristo Rey!" (Long live Christ the King!), gave them their name. But don't mistake them for a unified, professional army at the start. They were farmers. Ranchers. Students. They were outgunned and outmatched by a professional military backed by the United States government.
The General Who Didn't Believe
Andy Garcia’s portrayal of Gorostieta is probably the most nuanced part of the film. He’s a mercenary, basically. A retired general who misses the fight. He takes the job of leading the Cristeros because he believes in religious liberty as a constitutional right, even if he doesn't personally care for the sacraments.
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Watching his transformation—from a cynical strategist to someone who actually respects the fervor of his troops—is the emotional spine of the narrative. It’s a classic arc. But it’s based on a real guy who actually managed to turn a ragtag group of rebels into a force that nearly toppled the government.
The Tragedy of José Sánchez del Río
Then there’s the kid.
If you’ve seen the For Greater Glory movie, you remember the boy, José Luis Sánchez del Río. He was only 14. In the film, he’s played by Mauricio Kuri. The scenes where he’s captured and tortured are notoriously difficult to sit through. It’s not Hollywood fluff; the real José was canonized as a saint by the Catholic Church in 2016.
The historical accounts of his death are actually even more harrowing than what’s on screen. The soldiers cut the soles of his feet and forced him to walk to the cemetery. They wanted him to renounce his faith. He wouldn't. It’s the kind of conviction that feels alien in our modern, cynical world, which is exactly why the movie resonates with certain audiences and deeply confuses others.
Why the Critics and the Public Disagreed
When the movie dropped, it got hammered by some critics. They called it one-sided. They called it "propaganda."
Look, is it a pro-Catholic movie? Obviously. It was produced by New Land Films, which didn't hide its perspective. But the criticism that it’s "simplistic" misses the point of historical epics. Was Braveheart a nuanced look at Scottish-English trade relations? No. It was about the visceral struggle for autonomy.
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The For Greater Glory movie functions the same way. It’s a "Big Cinema" take on a conflict that left 250,000 people dead.
A Complicated Political Backdrop
The movie brushes past some of the darker corners of the Cristero movement, like the fact that some factions were incredibly reactionary and anti-reform. On the flip side, it also barely scratches the surface of the U.S. involvement. Ambassador Dwight Morrow, played by Peter O'Toole in one of his final roles, was a key player in negotiating the "Arreglos"—the peace deal that ended the fighting.
The deal was... messy. The government agreed to stop enforcing the laws, but they didn't actually repeal them. The Cristeros were told to lay down their arms, and then many of their leaders were hunted down and executed anyway. The film touches on this sense of betrayal, but the real history is a long, lingering bruise on the Mexican psyche.
The Technical Side: Is It Actually Good?
Setting the history aside for a second, does the For Greater Glory movie hold up as a piece of filmmaking?
Technically, it’s impressive. Dean Wright came from a visual effects background—he worked on Lord of the Rings and Chronicles of Narnia—and you can tell. The cinematography captures the Mexican highlands with this sweeping, golden-hour beauty that contrasts sharply with the blood being spilled in the dirt.
The score by James Horner is sweeping and epic. It feels like an old-school Hollywood blockbuster. It’s grand. It’s loud. It wants you to feel something in your chest.
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However, the pacing is a bit of a rollercoaster. It’s a long movie. At nearly two and a half hours, it tries to juggle too many characters. You’ve got the women’s brigades smuggling ammunition in their corsets (which really happened!), the political maneuvering in D.C., and the grassroots battles. It’s a lot to digest.
Why It Matters Today
Why bother watching a movie about a 100-year-old war in Mexico?
Because the themes are weirdly contemporary. We’re still arguing about the line between church and state. We’re still debating how far a government can go to enforce "secular values" before it becomes tyrannical.
The For Greater Glory movie serves as a reminder that history isn't just a list of dates. It’s a series of choices made by people who were willing to die for an idea. Whether you agree with their idea or not, that kind of commitment is rare.
It’s also a crash course in a conflict that stayed "under the rug" for decades. For a long time, the Cristero War wasn't taught in Mexican schools. It was the "forbidden history." This film brought it into the light, even if it did so with a specific bias.
How to Engage With This History
If the movie piqued your interest, don't just stop at the end credits. The real story is infinitely more complex than a 145-minute film can portray.
- Read the primary sources: Look for the writings of Jean Meyer. He’s the preeminent historian on the Cristero War. His book The Cristero Rebellion is the definitive academic text. It’s dense, but it provides the "other side" of the story that the movie glosses over.
- Visit the sites: If you’re ever in Jalisco or Michoacán, the scars of this war are still there. There are shrines to the martyrs and museums dedicated to the Cristiada. Seeing the geography helps you understand why the guerrilla warfare was so effective.
- Compare the perspectives: Watch the 1976 film La Guerra Santa. It’s a Mexican production that takes a much more critical, cynical view of the religious leaders and the war itself. Comparing it to For Greater Glory gives you a much better sense of why this topic is still so controversial.
- Check the archives: The U.S. National Archives has declassified documents regarding Ambassador Morrow’s role in the peace negotiations. It’s a fascinating look at how oil interests and regional stability often trumped human rights in 1920s diplomacy.
The For Greater Glory movie isn't perfect, but it’s a vital entry point into a story that almost vanished. It’s a reminder that when we stop talking about history, we lose the context for our present. Go for the action, but stay for the questions it forces you to ask about liberty and the cost of silence.