Mark Reviews Movies: OUTLAW KING

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Review by Mark Dujsik | November 8, 2018

Director David Mackenzie opens Outlaw King with a dynamic one-take, which seamlessly introduces the history, the politics, and the main players of its story. The year is 1302, and the Scottish rebellion against England has suffered a series of catastrophic defeats, beginning with William Wallace's retreat at the Battle of Falkirk, his subsequent resignation as the head of the Scottish army, and his escape from the country. With the people demoralized after years of war and the cause seemingly lost, the major members of the Scottish nobility have arrived at the camp of the English king—to swear oaths of loyalty to the crown, bringing an end to the conflict.

All of this is communicated within a short span of time (although it must have seemed much longer to the cast and crew, considering how much is spoken and done within the single shot), without feeling hurried, confusing, or contrived. The scene is so effective that we barely notice just how much information we obtain over the course of it. Around the time that a friendly duel between old friends—who are about to become sworn enemies—occurs, we just begin to realize that we've been watching an unbroken take.

It's a fine example of efficient storytelling and technical prowess, all the more impressive because of its subtlety of form. Then the king reveals his end game: a massive trebuchet, aimed at one of the last castles still standing in Scotland after England's years-long campaign. The sense of utter defeat is palpable. The first scene/shot ends, and so, too, does the movie's attempt to do anything inventive with its tale of history.

After this lengthy shot, Mackenzie, Bash Doran, and James MacInnes' screenplay begins going through the motions of routine biography and condensed history. The subject is Robert Bruce (Chris Pine, who does fine work as a charismatic leader of men—and eventually gives up a passable Scottish brogue), the son of a Scottish noble whose family has a contended claim to the crown of the country. At this point in his life and the life of his dominated nation, such claims are useless, anyway. Edward I (Stephen Dillane), the English king, has arranged marriage for the noble's son, a widower, to Elizabeth Burgh (Florence Pugh), the daughter of an Irish noble who's a close ally of the crown. That should, in Edward's mind, be the end of this pesky Scottish problem.

Those who may recall this section of Scottish history (probably from a famous cinema epic about Wallace's role in the rebellion) know that the king's thinking here is foolish. The peace is merely a temporary one. Events, such as England's continued taxing of the Scots and Wallace's brutal execution (One of his arms is displayed as a warning in a major Scottish port), spur Robert and others into action.

Events are of primary importance to this movie, which initially establishes at least a pretense of caring about the underlying politics and personalities of the conflict between Scotland and England. Robert—presented at first as a man of honor (He's torn about appeasement but goes along with it for the good of the people, and after marrying a complete stranger, he gives her plenty of space to become accustomed to her new surroundings) and briefly as a one conflicted by what he must do (He murders his rival to the Scottish crown in a church)—ultimately becomes little more than an icon. The screenplay is so busy detailing the broad strokes of the second wave of this rebellion that it loses its hero amidst the alliances, the betrayals, the overt villainy of English royalty and their noble henchmen, and the bloody battles.

From the moment that Robert declares himself to be the new Scottish king, the movie simply serves an account of what happened, with no concern for why it's happening, aside from anger and patriotic fervor. The politics of the war are reduced to Edward and his namesake son (Billy Howle), the Prince of Wales, being ruthless men, declaring an end to the chivalrous rules of battle. Both men are driven by wounded pride, but such an obvious observation doesn't compensate for how banal their villainy is.

Meanwhile, Robert has difficulty recruiting soldiers, spending most of his campaign with a few dozen men who are loyal to him and the cause. The ambushes are frequent. The blood spills and spurts freely in battle and in a couple of graphically depicted executions. His family is torn apart (sometimes literally), giving him a more personal motive for his campaign.

Mackenzie portrays all of this competently and with a level of realism that effectively shows how brutal the combat of the era was (not to mention the extrajudicial murders—hangings, eviscerations, slit throats). It's a bloody and muddy affair, but the spectacle of the movie's landscapes and battles is, eventually, the chief thing on Mackenzie's mind. Outlaw King brings the violence of this historical period to life, but everything else—mainly, the politics and the people behind them—becomes static, lest it might get in the way of the spectacle.

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