It's popular to hate on Braveheart these days, but this montage distills some of what I'll always love about the film: the gorgeous scenery, the kilts (I believe the mountain close-up is one of Gibson's final momentsof sexiness), the unrepentant bloodshed, and the way he captured the chilly roughness of the period. I'll always forgive the film its historical errors because it works so well as pure legend (and was drawn from poetry -- read Blind Harry's Wallace if you want Braveheart times ten), and nothing says that better than a bunch of villagers sharing Wallace's kill count. I especially love how its punctuated with that grim, bloody march at the end. No wonder Edward is fretting about ways to get rid of him.
Jump below for the scene...

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