BRAVEHEART (1995)

A three-hour historical epic with a sizeable budget and encompassing pivotal events in a nation’s history (however untrue these depictions may be), Braveheart is a formidable undertaking for any director. For actor Mel Gibson, who up until then had only directed the drama The Man Without a Face (1993), the task must have appeared monumental. But, as he would prove just over a decade later with another historical epic, Apocalypto (2006), the seasoned actor is more than capable of helming these gargantuan projects, as well as ensuring that they don’t become unruly. 

But is Braveheart a competent but middling popcorn flick, or an enduring work of art that stirs the heart and sets alight the notions of honour and glory that linger within us all? The most appreciable quality of the film is its watchability, with the three-hour epic managing to breeze by. But while that makes for an enjoyable watch, it doesn’t guarantee movie magic. That its simple pleasures easily override any of its technical elements—some of which are quite strong — hints that auteur filmmaking won’t be on the horizon for Gibson, whose later filmmaking work has confirmed this. But this also demonstrates his ability to not get mired in the grand scale of these stories, ensuring that there are still moments that resonate across Braveheart.

The tale of Scottish warrior William Wallace (Gibson) might deviate strongly from the historical record, but that only amplifies the heroic quest for freedom at the centre of this film. After Edward I of England conquers Scotland in 1280, William’s father and brother are killed and he leaves home for many years, before finally returning to take back his home country from English rule. William’s love of Scotland, the sentimental and twee soundtrack, and this film’s eagerness to figuratively fellate this protagonist at every turn are as entertaining as they are aggravating. Gibson has produced a profoundly one-note movie, to such an extent that his role as the adored, feared, and oh-so-wise (yet humble, we can’t forget that) hero seems like a vanity project above all else. With this in mind, it’s quite a shock to learn that the actor had only signed on to direct the film at one time, and expressed reluctance about helming the role of William Wallace.

Archetypes and clichés seem to exist for grand yet uncomplicated stories like these, but that doesn’t mean they should resort to soap opera levels of characterisation that Braveheart often stoops to. When William’s beau and childhood friend Murron MacClannough (Catherine McCormack) is almost raped by English soldiers, there’s no sense of build-up to this moment. Ideally, the creepy English soldiers that feel they’re entitled to the bodies of the Scottish women before them should have been slowly encroaching the native population, whether that’s in becoming a bigger part of their lives, or making it clear that their lustful comments and flattery belie an obvious motive. In both cases, we would know that sexual assault is on the horizon, but why should that horizon have to be a stone’s throw away from when it’s introduced? When an English soldier tells Murron that she looks like one of his daughters in the first interaction between this pair, you know that he will attempt to rape her within the next 60 seconds, because that’s the kind of cartoon villainy this movie appreciates.

That said, it does have a lengthy story to tell, with a four-hour version of the film still in existence, which Gibson expressed interest in putting together if Paramount Pictures and 20th Century Fox, Braveheart’s distributors, were interested. Considering the film’s current version never sacrifices entertainment value for pacing that’s too slow for its own good, an even longer take on the film could do well to flesh out these characters. As it is, Braveheart endears one to William Wallace’s cause, but seems to take such a defensive stance on this issue that it winds up insisting on his brilliance at every turn. When he is discussed in reverent terms, one knows to trust whoever’s been bestowed the honour of speaking about him so gracefully. If he is ever dismissed by another character, then viewers are wise to view these detractors as profoundly evil or stupid men, too narrow-sighted or callous to recognise the glorious bid for freedom that he embarks on.

Interiority is the enemy of films like these, but it’s also an essential trait to make one root for a protagonist. As it is, William hardly ever seems like he needs rooting for, with little time to explore his private doubts as he confidently leads his men in a succession of military victories, each more impressive than the last. His ambition and bravery is bottomless, with the only thing holding him back being his dead loved ones. William and Murron’s relationship is the most heart-warming in the entire film, providing some much-needed tenderness. But when William’s life becomes much colder, his heart does not harden, even when consumed by a quest that seems endless. Unbridled ambition at the cost of more meaningful personal relationships is typically the sign of a ruler who can’t see when it is time to hang up his arms and bask in his victories, but Braveheart is so reverent of this historical figure that it paints this flaw as the glorious vision of an unparalleled leader.

To bristle at this movie’s historical inaccuracy, or how it presents the Scottish and Irish characters as eccentric ethnics while the English foes are a cold, dispassionate lot — akin to lizards in human form —will no doubt be met harshly by this film’s arduous fans, of which there are many. It’s ‘just a movie’, after all. But Braveheart isn’t a cynical comedy; it’s a drama that’s trying to get you to care deeply about its protagonist and his cause. To do that, it hammers home and doubles down on Wallace’s masculine brilliance, its reverence so pronounced that it treats these qualities in a borderline erotic fashion. 

Tellingly, it’s in interactions absent of dialogue that the film is at its most affecting, like a moment of betrayal that contains no words spoken between William and a former ally he was unfortunate enough to trust. It is not just Gibson’s expression, but his eyes alone, where one can witness the profound despair this protagonist sinks into. The glimpses of Murron across this arduous journey, and the few times when their tender notes of connection need no words to be articulated, are also excellent. 

From this, Gibson draws out an affecting tale, rather than just an entertaining one. And that’s not to dismiss the enjoyment that can be derived from this film. Granted, the hokey mix of unabashed sentimentalism and folksy Celtic music from composer James Horner is both repetitive and grating, but at its best it captures the thrill of battle and conquest. Gibson does not let any of these battle sequences feel like they hinge upon monumental proportions, but they’re consistently energetic yet focused. Antagonist Edward I and his cowardly son Prince Edward (Peter Hanly) are a bickering duo whose downfall one loves to pray for, to such an extent that interactions involving the Prince in his dispassionate marriage to the French princess Isabella (Sophie Marceau) are a sorely missed aspect of the film. 

Isabella, like every other halfway decent character in this movie, is besotted with William Wallace, who will demonstrate that he’s an educated, learned, compassionate, chivalrous, and noble fellow in their interactions together. As Gibson would later learn in Apocalypto, a hero’s noble qualities do not always have to be insisted upon.

USA | 1995 | 178 MINUTES | 2.39:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH • FRENCH • LATIN • GAELIC • ITALIAN

Cast & Crew

director: Mel Gibson.
writer: Randall Wallace.
starring: Mel Gibson, Catherine McCormack, Patrick McGoohan, Angus McFadyen, Sophie Marceau, Brendan Gleeson, Peter Hanly, Brian Cox, Ian Bannen & Michael Byrne.