A review from the NY Times:
War is heck in the clean-scrubbed world of "Saints and Soldiers," the best low-budget, Mormon World War II epic you'll see this year. If that sounds like faint praise, consider the 14 awards the film has garnered at festivals across the country, including seven prizes for audience choice. As the tag line "There is a time for heroes" suggests, this is an old-fashioned, crowd-pleasing war picture, unambivalent in its portrait of war as a necessity and the heroism of self-sacrifice. At a time when the country is divided over these very issues, it should find an enthusiastic, if limited, audience.
The film opens in December 1944 near Malmedy, Belgium, as advancing German troops open fire on unarmed American prisoners of war, killing 86 in an event that would become known as the Malmedy Massacre. The four men who manage to escape into the nearby Ardennes forest represent a conveniently diverse cross section of war-movie archetypes: the tough-talking sergeant (Peter Holden); the devout, soft-spoken sharpshooter (Corbin Allred); the wisecracking medic from Brooklyn (Alexander Niver); and the blundering Cajun country boy (Lawrence Bagby).
Trapped behind enemy lines with a single rifle among them, the soldiers strategize about how best to make their way to the nearest American Army camp. When a stranded R.A.F. pilot (Kirby Heyborne) drops in on them by parachute, the stakes are raised: the daffy Brit is in possession of German military intelligence that could save thousands of American lives. Together, the five men must overcome German snipers, frigid weather and long patches of expository dialogue to smuggle their precious cargo across enemy lines.
Thanks to an impressive cast of largely unknown actors, this small-scale, meticulously researched film tells its story with quiet conviction. The filmmaker's religious credo sneaks in so subtly that it's not until the closing credits that you realize that the "saints" of the title are of the Latter-day variety. A key exchange between the characters Gould, the atheist cynic, and Deacon, the tormented believer, poses the familiar question: Are the horrors of war proof of the universe's cruelty or a God-given opportunity to test our faith?
Unlike most war films of the last 30 years, this one plumps unapologetically for the latter option. Its strategy for dealing with the moral ambivalence of war — not to mention any parallels with contemporary conflicts — is to close its eyes, put down its head and charge. Darn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.