If you haven’t actually seen Braveheart yet and you intend on reading this review in order to make your decision on whether to watch it or not, then you’re reading the wrong article.  Seriously, that’s not really the intent for writing a piece on a movie that is universally liked critically and popularly since it first hit the screen more than 13 years ago.

Mel Gibson as William Wallace. Courtesy Paramount.

This differs from my normal reviews of first-run movies and DVDs which are intended to let you know if the particular movie is worth your valuable time and money.  Braveheart obviously is.  You’ve already seen it at least a couple of times by now I hope and probably have added it to your collection of DVDs, Blue-Rays, or whatever you kids use to watch the moving pictures these days.

This film review is a little more gratuitous than all of the others that I do.  That much should be apparent as I did go ahead and place a snazzy new banner before the title of the film.  “Classic Film Review.”  Catchy, I know.  A subtle yet provocative departure from the conventional “Movie Review” and “DVD Review” banners.

What makes Braveheart different from the regular reviews, other than being…I don’t want to say pointless…perhaps, less directional is that it is deeply personal to me.  There is this period of time in one’s life when certain things, objects, or ideas play a significant role in one’s development both cognitively and morally.  Well, we at least hope there’s some cognitive and moral development in everyone’s life (though the cynic in me is shaking his head).

Psychologists will confirm (I don’t really know if they’ll confirm) that there are portions of a person’s life where they are particularly impressionable.  That is, when they encounter something singularly or cumulatively that has a lasting impact.  The deal is however, you never really know what that thing or things will be.

A singular event can change the course of one’s life more than even said repeated or related events and exposures.  Or, it can be the other way around.  For instance, accidentally farting in front of your date at homecoming can spell doom for your high school years.  I mean, who knew that Shrek would be a big hit that year and you would assume the nickname Lord FARTquad?  Somehow that was a much bigger deal than even your persistent acne and lack of a tan over the next 14 years.

The point is, there are so many variables present that affect us in different and unpredictable ways that we often don’t know that they’ve affected us until much later in life.  Thanks a lot Facebook.

Braveheart, for me, was much like the completely generic, random, and wholly fictional and absolutely unrelated to the author farting incident mentioned earlier.  I saw Braveheart within the first week that it was released on VHS in 1996ish, I think.  I know I could go out to the interweb and get the right information, but that would defeat the purpose of winging this article, wouldn’t it?

My family had this pseudo-tradition of looking for the goriest and/or most ridiculous movies that we could find in the local video rental palace.  For example, the previous weekend beheld the splendor of Peter Jackson’s masterpiece Dead Alive.  Dead Alive has become a family favorite because it was really the first in the category of Zom-Rom-Com, even before the much beloved Shaun of the Dead.

Here’s a clip to illustrate its appeal.

My aunt brought Braveheart over not because of the cinematic significance of the film, but for the fantastic gory effects she heard about near the water cooler at work.  She was right, by the way.  Purely from memory I can recall the vivid and realistic departure of one hand, one leg, and two heads from their respective bodies and puncture wounds galore.  That includes arrows, knives, swords, and one axe that was a bit sticky in trying to retrieve from the poor bloke’s torso.  And of course, who can forget the skull crushing by the mace?

Needless to say, the initial viewing was a success by our most tried if unconventional standards.  That sitting, though, didn’t have a very immediate effect on me.  It was the next day, however, when I was by myself that Braveheart took a firm hold.  No one was home and the movie sat on the coffee table from the previous night’s viewing.  I had missed some key fighting scenes because of some bad nachos and I was eager to see them.  The scenes, not the nachos.  I put the movie in the player and without the distraction of sarcastic and maybe a little inebriated comments from the gallery, the film immediately grabbed me.

As I look back, I see several things that had to happen in this movie in order for it to resonate with me.  Part of it had to do with the scenery.  The cold, gorgeous green of the highlands and the forest were captivating.  The quiet and lonely boy who was only mildly regarded but on whom was placed great responsibility hit home.  The romance of a single love who represented every pure, good, familiar, and comfortable thing was a shared experience.  Then came the violence.  It was reluctant but deliberate.  Spontaneous, yet calculated.  And it was portrayed not in the characterized and exaggerated manner in all movies before.  It was instead treated with great care and an ironic gentleness that was as shocking as the accuracy of its simulation.  All of these independent variables had to come together perfectly and at that time in my life in order to have accomplished what it did.

What’s more is that behind the sheer honesty of the method and manner of storytelling and beside the depth and layer of the characters and their stories there was this common thread.  Freedom.  But whose freedom?  And from what?  Was is Scotland’s freedom from England?  The Princess’s freedom from her bondage created by her sex?  The Prince’s freedom from the chains of his sexual orientation?  Robert the Bruce’s freedom from his father’s desire, and freedom to explore his own heart and conscience?  Or was it William who sought the freedom from the pain caused by the loss of his love?

“By God,” I thought, “this movie is trying to say something.”  It was such a thing that hadn’t occurred to me before.  A movie could exist to do more than just entertain.  It could move and change me.  And it did.  And I am forever grateful.  Was there a film that did such a thing for you?