To say that mountains are mystical is like stating that swine are tameless. Few would disagree.

Yes, mountains are lofty, sublime. They exist on every continent but, in truth, most remain unseen to us. It turns out that a plethora of mountain ranges remain underwater. The Hawaiian Islands, for instance, are part of a massive ocean mountain string that emerges above sea level in some places. Still, one can find mountains in about 75% of countries. Mountains plummet and peak; pierce and plateau. The mountain's sheer breadth is such that it carries its own monikers-the slope or side; the gorge or steep valley between young mountains; and the summit or the pinnacle.

Certainly, mountains are necessary, for they provide more than half of the world's fresh water. The world's major rivers are fed from mountain sources. Where there are mountains, there is nearly insurmountable snow coupled with tackling winds. Little wonder, then, that few people live in mountains. In fact, only a tenth of the world's population consists of mountain dwellers.

You see, few can withstand mountains and even fewer cherish them.

By this measure alone, Pablo Dominquez was extraordinary. His story holds up even without the backing of an optimistically viral, grassroots documentary.

Juan Manuel Cotelo's The Last Summit (La Ultima Cima) depicts how Dominguez, the young and young-at-heart Spanish priest was everything to everyone, to borrow from his namesake the Apostle Paul.

Dominguez is the Catholic clergyman that media juggernauts and political watchdogs somehow miss in their coverage. His 30-minute, race-car-fast yet profound and masterfully-woven messages were balms to post-Christian, humanist and hardened hearts. What's more, Dominguez's life WAS the sermon.

This missionary-professor -friend-mentor- preacher famously proclaimed that he believed in God not in spite of his intellect, but because of it. Climbing higher mattered to Dominguez. Sadly, he died suddenly in 2009 at just 42 years old, shortly after reaching Spain's Moncayo Mountain's summit. A devoted hiker, Dominguez had predicted that he would both die young as well as atop a mountain.

Dominguez's journey was the stuff that movies are made of. There is a fine distinction between those who are eager versus those who are desperate. Dominguez lived on the more favorable side. The Last Summit stays true to Dominguez's witty, warm and wildly infectious heart. The film can arguably be considered mountainous itself with its brisk, humorous peaks meshed with information-gathering plateaus, quilted with somber, tragic dips.

Filmmaker Cotelo manages to point to the message minus sensationalism; he gives a countercultural, optimistic glimpse at priesthood minus overreaching. Anecdotes, footage, audio clips, testimonials and photographs leave the viewer with little doubt of the veracity behind Dominguez's rockstar influence.

The Last Summit's impact has driven the film to success that rivals the likes of The Help and other word-of-mouth-silver screen darlings. Thanks to activists like Francisco Alzuru, the film has been met with wild applause in the United States and Latin America. Miami, in particular, has been good to The Summit. During my coverage at the Art District's O Cinema, as an example, dozens of what seemed like congregation-backed supporters filled the venue with a palpable touch of devotion. Some seemed to be searching; others seemed to be mourning.

Pablo Dominguez was more than a man of the cloth, greater than an academic, stronger than the most equipped mountain climber. Despite a few vague moments, The Last Summit is a cool drink in a myriad of flat, arid Christian storylines. The Last Summit provokes without ever begging the question.

If ever searching for a thoughtfully-made and authentically-told heartsong, Pablo Dominguez's is the real deal.

Ana Valeska is a not-so-naughty librarian, college instructor, book editor and--yeah,baby--NEWD columnist. Her forthcoming work, Tu Eres (You Are), is a devotional based on modern-day worship psalms. Ana Valeska longs to help redeem urban, young adult culture for the Lord Jesus. Her daughter, Selena, and cat, Puffles, have her wrapped around their little fingers.