Miriam Colon and Luke Ganalon star in "Bless Me, Ultima." (MovieWeb.com)

"Bless Me, Ultima" does little to improve the reputation of the cloth, though it at least offers an aesthetic shift in context — from modern-day sanctuaries in Los Angeles to the dusty pews of World War II-era New Mexico.

But despite the intriguing setting, "Bless Me, Ultima" doesn’t dive deep enough into its posed philosophical questions, wasting a former life on the banned book list with chemistry-free characters and bland platitudes about Man vs. God.

The film opens when village midwife Ultima (Miriam Colon) comes to stay with Antonio’s family. “I knew there would be something between us,” she tells him when they meet again for the first time since she delivered him into the world. Their bond becomes an important motivator for Antonio, played by an adorable Luke Ganalon, driving most of his precocious, and at times dangerous, actions throughout the film.

Faith and war are key elements of the story, shaping Antonio’s young life earlier than his parents might hope. We see the destructive power of conflict throughout their small town: Several of its young men finish serving in the war only to come home ravaged by PTSD. (Look elsewhere for a nuanced portrayal of man’s postwar experience — here, the tortured soul is served up as a rabid dog caricature.) Meanwhile, the townsfolk wage their own wars over hearsay of witchcraft, Ultima’s mysterious ways juxtaposed with the brush-dwelling occult of village barber Tenorio’s (Castulo Guerra) daughters. Curses are exchanged and lives are lost, eventually leading an angry mob to come for Ultima’s head as if she were Frankenstein’s monster. 

All the while, young Antonio wrestles with whom he wants to become, and how big of a role God will play in that destiny. Between tagging along on nature hikes with Ultima and accompanying her to herb-based exorcisms, Antonio gets a decidedly open-minded introduction to faith outside of his mandatory catechism lessons. The resident priest leading this instruction is held up as an insufficient, if not actively hostile host for all things Christ. Antonio is on his own when it comes to the Big Questions. 

The resulting conversations with family members and friends could have been touching, but were mostly dull thanks to one-dimensional acting and a simplistic script. Given the public reception, or rejection, of Rudolfo Anaya’s 1972 novel, it would seem readers connected with the direct style of writing, for better or worse. But that doesn’t translate on screen in Carl Franklin’s adaptation. Dialogue and narration are both underwhelming, an experience worsened by the stilted delivery of most cast members. Two bright spots: Colon as Ultima, whose twinkling eyes, deeply lined face and low, purring voice make it hard to look away; and Benito Martinez ("The Shield") as Antonio’s father, who manages to keep fluctuations between disappointment and hopelessness understated.  

But even the patriarch has little in the way of guidance when Antonio seeks answers to his questions of faith and humanity. Why do good men die, he wonders, while bad men live? Why do the people Ultima helps forsake her when she’s persecuted, even stalked by Tenorio? We can’t expect full explorations of these notions in a PG-13 movie of marketable length, but we can demand realistic portrayals of men and women wrestling with them. Aside from wise Ultima, the adults of the film seem like 7-year-old Antonio’s spiritual and intellectual equals. That could have worked to the advantage of Ultima’s character, cementing her status as holy woman, but instead it takes us out of the imagined reality of the film. How can we believe its magic if we can’t even believe the mundanity?

Some of Franklin’s stylistic choices throughout the movie only give us more time to ruminate on what’s missing in its characters. Surrounding them, the natural setting plays a significant role, between close-ups of desert flora and sweeping shots of the dry landscape. Along with a few jumpy cuts in dream sequences, that’s about the extent of cinematographer Paula Huidobro’s bag of tricks.

To bask in a little under two hours of wide-open spaces and the small joy of watching a charming old woman mentor a cute kid, it wouldn’t be a complete waste of an otherwise unremarkable afternoon to see "Bless Me, Ultima." But for a thoughtful treatment of ideological quandaries, or remotely believable characters to ponder them, your time might be better spent inside a library.

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