Braveheart

Mel Gibson directs this 13th-century saga of Scottish revolt against English tyranny with a claymore-like flourish, defying the criticism that there are moments as bogus as plastic haggis. He also stars, portraying William Wallace as a medieval, woad-smeared Mad Max-like hero, a rebel leader and rabble rouser, an intrepid champion from the mould of Hollywood heroes, made believable by the grace of the star. However, if he's a wartime resistance leader in the style of Robin Hood with a comely Maid Marion in the shape of Sophie Marceau then Patrick McGoohan as the villainous King Edward “Longshanks” is a jeering, sneering cliché too far — the Sheriff of Nottingham with his own portable torture chamber. As director, Gibson's control over thousands of extras, in the swift succession of gruesome hand-to-hand battles, is as effective as anything in Laurence Olivier's Henry V. But when the action moves in for the emotional kill, the film loses credibility — Wallace's disdain at his own disembowelment being a prime example. Yet, for all its stereotypes and disparities, there is a nicely judged air of political cynicism, as noblemen switch allegiances as easily as horses. It succeeds in bringing to life the reality of Scottish patriotism and brilliantly captures the spirit of a revolution 700 years before its deliverance. Little wonder it won an Oscar for best picture.

A stirring nationalistic epic, acted and directed with great verve; some of the history may be suspect, but the film creates a sense of myth with its sweep and passion.