Braveheart is one of the best movies ever made. And now, let me share what I dislike about this film.

William Wallace, real-life hero, larger-than-legend man, and protagonist of this week’s BP, has a serious set of morals. These morals most likely stem from his Christian beliefs (he evinces a faith in God several times in the film) as well as his upbringing by first his father and then his Uncle Argyle, who both emphasize honesty, integrity, and the use of one’s mind (before weapons) to solve problems. Wallace grows up and returns home to live at peace with everyone. He reconnects with the woman he’s dreamed of apparently all through his adolescence and early adulthood (even though she’s a small child when he leaves his original home) and marries her secretly because the diabolical English king has reinstituted prima nocta (jus primae noctis, for those of you pickier than Braveheart about proper Latin-isms). In case you’re not familiar with medieval laws, the (most likely) historically inaccurate law of prima nocta allows a lord (an English one, in this case) to sleep with any common girl on her wedding night. What an awesome society.

Wallace and his new bride, Murron, seem to have successfully avoided such a revolting situation by conducting their nuptials in the woods at dark, and we viewers are apparently supposed to rejoice when they consummate their marriage in the following scene. For me, here’s where Braveheart first gets a bit dicey as far as upholding the morals which it so highly totes. I mean, I get it. Two people love each other, get married, and have sex. That’s the normal way of the world. But do I have to watch it? Wallace is so passionate about not sharing his wife sexually with anyone else (that’s legitimate), but we the viewers share her with him. In the post-wedding scene, both characters are unclothed, but it is Murron whose modesty is violated by the camera. Who cares if an overly hairy Mel Gibson shows up shirtless? It’s a different thing for a woman to take her shirt off and face the camera. In short, what the film purports to be lovely is tarnished by our forced voyeurism.

Murron really gets the short straw in this movie (spoiler alert!). Not only is she exposed sexually, but she’s also brutally executed after she and Wallace maim some guards who try to assault her. For the rest of the film, avenging Murron’s death is Wallace’s main motivation in his quest to overthrow English domination and establish a free Scotland under its own king. Wallace is portrayed as determined, valiant, ingenious, and undeterred by others’ lack of faith in his cause. What a great guy.

But then Wallace meets Princess Isabelle. She’s beautiful, caring, intelligent, and lonely. Her marriage to the Prince of Wales is basically just a formality. Plus, she’s heard all the tales about Wallace and his daring deeds. She’s putty in his hands. But it seems Wallace is also no match for Isabelle’s charms. After she warns him of danger a second time, Wallace tracks her to a secluded cottage in the woods where the two embark on a sexual relationship. This is where Braveheart really irks me.

I just don’t get the need for another woman. If Wallace is truly motivated only by the thirst to avenge his wife and to ensure that what happened to her never happens to another Scottish person, if he eats and breathes freedom, if he is so obsessed with vengeance that he sees and speaks to Murron in his sleep, then what in the world is he doing dallying with another woman? And here’s the kicker: Isabelle is married. Yes, I mentioned that earlier, but it’s so crucial. Since Wallace is particularly adamant about his wife only sleeping with him, doesn’t it make him a horrible hypocrite when he chooses to sleep with another man’s wife? Or does it not matter because Isabelle’s marriage isn’t great or because she’s technically on the English side (by marriage)?

I think it does matter. Greatly.

In Braveheart‘s famous final scene, there are obvious overtones of Christian symbolism: namely, the image of an innocent man dying on a “cross” for others’ freedom. I’ve always found this part of the movie incredibly beautiful and moving–especially when Murron (yes, she’s still dead) shows up right after Wallace utters his famous “Freedom!” line before his beheading. The whole scene is so gruesome, but it is so perfectly shot, and the score is so absolutely breathtaking–still, the fact that “Freedom” is the last word Wallace says seems to point to a higher cause for which he is willing to die, a cause that goes beyond him and his revenge quest. So again, why the other woman?

For Me Then…

Don’t get me wrong. I love this movie. It is one of my all-time favorites. And while I struggle with the roles of the film’s female characters and how they (especially Isabelle) damage the integrity of Wallace’s character, I still think Braveheart offers its viewers a higher calling and deeper meaning than most movies do.

I don’t enjoy all the film’s violence, but there is a point to (most of) it: Freedom is costly. It is difficult for many of us today to truly value freedom because we don’t actually understand what it means or what it’s worth. Some Americans dishonor our flag and our national anthem because they say our country isn’t free enough for them. Ironically, they can only say these things because in the past someone died for our right to freedom of speech.

In Braveheart, William Wallace uses his dying breaths to cry out for freedom–but not for himself. Obviously, he will never live under the rule of a Scottish king, but he knows that all his sacrifices might give another person the chance for freedom. To me, that kind of selflessness is mind-blowing. It’s also inspiring–especially because there is an easier way out for Wallace in the end. If he just swears loyalty to the English king or begs his forgiveness or kisses the royal seal, he could forego all the torture and go straight to the beheading. But Wallace knows he has to make a point to those witnessing his death and to his countrymen who are often tempted with alternatives (like land and titles) to the discomfort and trauma of fighting for what one believes in. Robert the Bruce is one of those countrymen who vacillates between one side of the conflict and the other. He “want[s] to believe” in and commit to Wallace’s cause, but he does not and he cannot–until Wallace gives the ultimate sacrifice for those he leaves behind. To the Bruce and to Wallace’s comrades, freedom becomes equal to the worth of the life of a dear friend, which is a hefty pricetag. What would one not give for the life of a friend?

As the film closes and the Scots, “starving and outnumbered, [charge] the fields of Bannockburn” to “[fight] like warrior-poets” and to “[win] their freedom,” Wallace is deceased but not gone. His presence is symbolized in his sword that his friend Hamish throws onto the battlefield before the Scots advance. The sword goes before the host of Scotland, just as Wallace went before them to open their minds and hearts to the cause of freedom. Braveheart isn’t a tragic romance about Wallace and his wife and their deaths. It’s a victory song lauding the gift one person made of himself to the cause of liberty. It’s a challenge to ignore voices that tell you to give up your dream of something higher than yourself. And it’s a call to step away from what is easy, pursue the right, and confront the opposition. For only then will we actually be living, and we have nothing to lose that is worth keeping.