A diffuse, patchwork mess of a film with moments that work wonders, but long stretches that sag under the weight of artificiality, some clichéd characters, and tangential material that may have worked in the source novel, but seriously hamper the narrative energy in the film version. For every moment of beautifully photographed, on-location scenery and fascinating depictions of native Amazonians' rituals, this drama from director Hector Babenco is hamstrung by absurdly phony and annoying characters with motivations that are understandable only in the context of mental instability. The symbolism is bluntly obvious, and the story's points about faith, ecological responsibility, and the nature of good and evil are hammered home without much finesse. By the big finish, in which viewers are treated to the sight of Kathy Bates dancing naked, covered with mud in a psychological frenzy, Babenco's film has gone irresponsibly wide of the mark. Then there's the production's deranged notion that it's quite novel to equate religious conversion with the greedy corporate rape of the land, or the "white man" and his concept of civilization with insanity, neither of them exactly fresh, new takes on modern age manifest destiny. It's laudable that At Play in the Fields of the Lord is a film with much on its mind, but those notions are stale ones presented in the service of a tale that strains patience and credulity.