Evan D. As a project this year we are taking a trip through time to revisit all of the Best Picture winners in history, Wings to Anora. Braveheart is the sixty-eighth film in that series, to see all the other Best Picture reviews, click here.
William Wallace (played here by director Mel Gibson) is known today by Scotland as a great warrior and liberator of his land from control by the English. He also died over 700 years ago so the image that endures is one that has been passed down through myth, legend and now cinema. For better or worse, Gibson’s interpretation of the freedom fighting Scot in Braveheart is now the predominant image most have of Wallace. There are some problems with that, considering Braveheart is often considered one of the least accurate biopics of all time and a film that mostly seems to exist to worship at the alter of Mel Gibson and rugged masculinity. Still, there is a film’s legacy and its actual content. Just as with men like Wallace, there is often a gulf between those two pillars. In 1280, a young William Wallace watches as the tyrannical King Edward I (Patrick McGoohan) of England brutally takes control over Scotland. Longshanks, as the King is known to the Scots, slaughters highland nobles and eventually his men kill Wallace’s father and brother for resisting English rule. Young William is then sent to live with his uncle Argyle (Brian Cox) who teaches him Latin, French and how to fight with his brain, not just his sword. Now grown, Wallace returns to his ancestral village and marries his childhood friend Murron (Catherine McCormack.) But the dastardly king has invoked a law known as jus primae noctis allowing English nobility to rape the wives of Scots on the night of their wedding. When they come for Murron, Wallace rescues her from being assaulted but cannot stop her from being executed in retaliation. Forget brain over brawn, Wallace sets out on a vengeful quest to free Scotland by fighting an awful lot with his sword. No matter how hard Gibson tries to establish Wallace as this philosopher warrior, all of that melts away when he sets out on his fight for liberation. Much of the last two hours of Braveheart consists of a disheveled Mel Gibson smoldering, giving a rousing speech, smoldering some more and stabbing faceless Brits during indistinguishable battles. Fellow freedom fighters ally and betray Wallace then feel bad for betraying him and seek to ally themselves again. It’s all a bit exhausting after the epic scale of the fight sequences grow repetitive. What emerges from the gargantuan medieval biopic is a portrait that historians would scantly recognize as the real William Wallace but rather an idealized warrior, fighting injustice and tyranny as much as the English. Of course, historical accuracy is hardly a necessity for a good film, but Gibson’s liberties aren’t in service of any particular useful narrative pull. Theres a concocted romance with the princess that is so underbaked that it may have been scrapped altogether. The whole film suffers from bloat, littered with scenes that serve little purpose beyond lifting up the masculine image of the actor/director at its center. When Braveheart does work, it is in the few, fleeting moments of contemplation. Stunning views of the Scottish highlands give a scale to the film that none of the drama or action can. As Wallace overlooks the beauty of his homeland, it is briefly apparent why this place is worth risking his life over. Then there is the sweeping score, clearly inspiration for future films, that really deepens the action on screen. Braveheart has just enough on its surface, from the technical aspects to a rebellious spirit, to understand why it holds the cultural place it is. After nearly three hours of runtime it becomes harder to see it as much more than an indulgent piece of hyper-masculine aggrandizement. 5/10
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