Ford shoots for the stars in this uneven parable, but mostly fails.<br /><br />You know you're in for some heavy-handedness when, near the beginning, Henry Fonda's priest (none of the characters are named, as in a fable) opens the doors to an abandoned church and the camera lovingly lingers on his shadow, which forms a crucifix in the dusty doorway.<br /><br />It doesn't get better from there. Soon the viewer is introduced to the pious Dolores del Rio, a Madonna/Whore bathed in glowing nimbus and Pedro Armendariz, a Pilate-like jack-booted thug with the attire of Himmler but the philosophy of Lenin.<br /><br />J. Carrol Naish's informant/Judas character is the principle racial stereotype, though such stereotypes abound with an abundance of serape and sombrero clad extras mugging the camera throughout. Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch, obviously influenced by this film, recreates the dusty revolutionary Mexican village with more authority and authenticity.<br /><br />Perhaps expected to be a spiritual successor of Tom Joad, Fonda is badly miscast; his dour, pseudo-Hispanic performance is greatly reminiscent of the later The Wrong Man. It isn't until the end of the film that he's able to give a speech worthy of his natural humanity, but it comes too little, too late.<br /><br />John Ford, working at the top of his technical game, supplies beautiful compositions and Gabriel Figueroa's lush lensing is the highlight of the film, and for that reason alone it is recommended.