One Paragraph Movie Review: Braveheart

Fifty-sixth film: Braveheart. This is a Bohemian Rhapsody film, in that you can’t get sick of it, and it’s one of the few things you forgive Mel Gibson for. It’s got the ba-da-doomp ba-da-doomp of horsie hooves in mud, and the shing shing shing of swords in battle, and the weirdly attractive rants of an insane Irish protector and the crackling blue make-up of a shouting Scotsman and some pretty ladies in top frocks and a thousand dirty warriors’ bare buttocks. It’s got everything, although Mel Gibson’s ability to act primarily with eye movements and his Adam’s apple gets a bit annoying after a while. Four and three-quarter extremely dirty marriage hankies out of five.