Kill the Englishmen: The Last of the Mohicans and Braveheart

I was in the mood for period action films this weekend and picked out The Last of the Mohicans (1992) and Braveheart (1995). There's not much in common between them, save one thing: lots and lots of English soldiers dying. One's good and one's dross; read on to discover which.

The Last of the Mohicans (1992, Michael Mann)
Michael Mann got his first major big screen break with The Last of the Mohicans. This handsome adaptation of James Fennimore Cooper's adventure novel is a treat, with a good cast, sumptuous period detail and a flare for action which became Mann's trademark.

Nathaniel "Hawkeye" Poe (Daniel Day-Lewis) is a white living with Mohican Indians. The three hope to stay out of the ongoing French and Indian War, but end up saving Cora (Madeleine Stowe) and Alice Munroe (Jodhi May) from a Huron ambush organized by Magua (Wes Studi). Hawkeye and Co. escort the Munros to Ft. William Henry, where their father (Maurice Roeves) commands a garrison besieged by the French. When Hawkeye helps the milita desert to protect their homes, Hawkeye is arrested for sedition. But after the fort's surrender, French commander Montcalm (Patrice Chereau) authorizes Magua to wreak havoc on the English survivors.

The Last of the Mohicans scores as an old-fashioned adventure film. It makes a few noises about tensions between the British and their colonial subjects but this is part of the texture, not its raison d'etre. The film is lean and quick-paced at 117 minutes, providing enough exposition and character development between action scenes to keep its story grounded while focusing on excitement.

Like all good action movies, Mohicans' primary complexity comes through its characterization. Mann and Christopher Crowe's script mostly avoids stereotyping: Munro and Major Heyward (Steven Waddington) initially come off as stuffy Brits but each proves to have a human side. Unlike Dances With Wolves, there's no PC posturing re: Native Americans. The good and bad Indians are relatively balanced, all seeking the best advantage from the European conflict. Even Magua has reason for his bloodthirstiness, being a product of brutal, unsparing frontier warfare.

Mann shows a sure directoral hand far removed from Miami Vice. He makes use of an impressively-rendered Fort William Henry set, with Dante Spinotti providing beautiful shots of the lush, verdant North Carolina wilderness. The movie has enough action to satisfy anyone, from the forest ambushes and personal combats to the large-scale nocturnal battles at the fort, all expertly-staged by Mann. Trevor Jones and Randy Edelman provide a lovely period score.

Daniel Day-Lewis came up short in this bid for super-stardom: he didn't become a household name until Gangs of New York a decade later. Regardless, Day-Lewis makes a perfectly charismatic frontier hero. Madeline Stowe handles Cora's character's arc reasonably well. Steven Waddington (The Tudors) is superb in a thankless role. Top honors go to Wes Studi (Geronimo: An American Legend), making Magua a fierce yet believable antagonist. Supporting roles go to Russell Means, Eric Schweig, Patrice Chereau, Maurice Roeves (Young Winston) and Pete Postlethwaite (The Town).

Braveheart (1995, Mel Gibson)

I saw Braveheart back in high school, and remember being impressed by it. Revisiting it now I found it surprisingly lame. At best it's a poor man's Spartacus, replacing the Kubrick film's brains with stilted melodrama and obtuse homilies.

As a child, William Wallace (Mel Gibson) witnesses his father and brother killed by England's brutal Edward I (Patrick McGoohan). As an adult, Wallace is content to live rustically with his gal pal Murron (Catherine McCormick) and friend Hamish (Brendan Gleeson). When English troops kill Muron, Wallace instigates a revolt that spreads throughout Scotland. After Wallace defeats English troops at Stirling and York, Edward marches north, defeating Wallace at Falkirk. Wallace remains at large, and Princess Isabella's (Sophie Marceau) efforts at negotiation only lead to their falling in love. The Scottish nobles, led by Robert the Bruce (Angus Macfayden), dither on supporting Wallace and ultimately betray him.

Braveheart is a cannily packaged crowd-pleaser. The film is crammed with bloody action, *two* doomed romances and archetypical characters. It turns history into an action movie, beautifully shot, magnificently scored by James Horner and dramatically simple, with enough pathos and sloganeering ("Freedom!") to provide a facade of depth. The movie's ongoing critical and popular success is easy to understand.

What everyone remembers from Braveheart is the impressive battle scenes. From Gladiator on the epic genre became diluted by CGI, so it's really refreshing to see hundreds of extras queing up to fight. Gibson provides ample scope without skimping on the bloody details. The combat has an undeniable visceral thrill, with slit throats, severed limbs and fountains of blood. Historically accurate? No. Exciting and effective? Definitely.

All the bloodshed can't detract from Braveheart's dramatic deficiencies. Randall Wallace's sophomoric script mines every conceivable cliche, from the cornball dialogue to the comic book villains. One pathetic bit has Wallace pulling a Looney Tunes trick to evade English soldiers. That's not to mention five separate dream sequences. For all the film's ponderousness, it largely reduces history to a vendetta: Wallace will oust the English oppressers, and this time it's personal!

Braveheart drew much ire for its Anglophobia (a recurring theme in Gibson's filmography) and historical inaccuracy. The real Wallace wasn't a proletarian patriot but a Scottish noble somewhat more idealistic than his peers. Edward's intervention came largely at the behest of Scottish nobles, rather than simple English villainy. Nor does Robert the Bruce's portrayal do justice to the historical figure. Edward's prima nocturne plot, designed to "breed" out the Scots, has more to do with modern "ethnic cleansing" in the Balkans than medieval Scotland.

Worst of all is the conception of William Wallace. He's an ass-kicking hero for men, a chiseled, romantic lover for the ladies. He's a sensitive fella who can woo a girl in Latin, and a military "genius," though his greatest strategem involves mooning. For pathos he gets a death to avenge, a lame pastiche of Henry V's Agincourt speech and later ignores entreaties to repent like a dime-store Sir Thomas More. The hamfisted finale "crucifies" Wallace repeatedly as he's hanged, drawn and quartered. What a guy.

Mel Gibson was Hollywood's biggest star in 1995, a good actor who enjoyed pushing his boundaries. Anyone who can play Hamlet between Lethal Weapon films (and not come off ridiculous in either) deserves immense credit. There's nothing wrong with Gibson's performance: few actors do intensity and self-righteous anguish better than Mel. It's the character that doesn't quite work. Gibson's roles got less interesting from here on, as he settled into lazy star vehicles, vanity projects and offscreen nuttiness.

Patrick McGoohan (Mary, Queen of Scots) steals the show with reptilian nastiness. Angus Macfayden's solid performance provides some dramatic weight. Sophie Marceau's Isabella is an underdeveloped character, her romance with Wallace badly contrived. Catherine McCormick makes a stronger impression despite being offed half-an-hour in. Peter Hanly's Edward II is a mincing stereotype and Brian Cox (Rob Roy) barely registers in his tiny role.

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To all the fictitious Englishmen who passed away this weekend, we salute you. Next time, a Very Special Groggy post!