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Rob Roy (1995) was released the same year as Braveheart and also concerns Scottish history, but is less well-known and has been overshadowed by its more extraverted counterpart. In contrast to Mel Gibson’s action-packed epic, Rob Roy is a more personal ode to honor, family, and the Highland way of life.

The film takes place between 1712 and 1722, and its protagonist is Scottish folk hero Robert Roy MacGregor (Liam Neeson), who was the chief of Clan MacGregor in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. MacGregor borrows a thousand pounds from Scottish aristocrat James Graham, Marquess of Montrose (John Hurt), to trade cattle. When he sends one of his men, Alan MacDonald, to collect the money, Montrose’s factor, Killearn, insists that he must accept coins rather than a credit slip. As MacDonald returns, he is ambushed and killed by Archibald Cunningham (Tim Roth), a foppish English aristocrat who is in cahoots with Killearn.

MacGregor defaults on the loan, and Montrose offers to waive his debt on the condition that he testify that John Campbell, Second Duke of Argyll, is a Jacobite. MacGregor refuses, saying that his honor prevents him from making accusations against a man whom he does not know. He is branded an outlaw, and Montrose and Cunningham wage war on Clan MacGregor. Redcoats burn down MacGregor’s home and kill his cattle, and Cunningham rapes his wife, Mary (Jessica Lange).

Cunningham eventually captures MacGregor and delivers him to Montrose, who orders that MacGregor be hanged. MacGregor escapes and arrives at Glen Shira, where the Duke of Argyll has offered his family protection. He asks for the Duke to arrange a duel between him and Cunningham to avenge his honor. Montrose agrees to the condition that should MacGregor live, his debts will be acquitted. The ensuing duel is masterfully executed and arguably one of the greatest swordfights in film history, as it actually feels real. Cunningham, a skilled swordsman, deals a few blows to MacGregor, who, armed with a clunky broadsword rather than a rapier, is less agile. But as he is about to slit his throat, MacGregor grabs Cunningham’s sword and swiftly slices him in half in one fell swoop. The film concludes with his reunification with his wife and children.

Rob Roy is one of the most reactionary films I have ever seen. Cunningham, a textbook psychopath, is very effeminate and is both a pederast and a womanizing rapist. He is basically an eighteenth-century pickup artist. Born out of wedlock to a promiscuous woman, he eschews commitment and says that “love is a dunghill.” After impregnating one of Montrose’s maids, he encourages her to abort the child, leading her to commit suicide. Even considering that this film was made nearly three decades ago, the blatant, almost heavy-handed pro-family and pro-life messaging is striking.

Although Cunningham is nominally an aristocrat, he exists outside traditional aristocratic mores, which is symbolized by his having been exiled from England. He is a rootless social climber who lusts after money and flatters powerful men (“as big a whore as my mother ever was”). Montrose is no less corrupt. He has an inkling of Cunningham’s “skullduggery” (as MacGregor puts it), but lets him off the hook. It is made clear in the film that Cunningham is a source of income for Montrose, who bets on him in swordfights. This is perhaps a subtle commentary on the British aristocracy’s alliance with mercantile interests. Montrose’s lack of aristocratic honor is noted by MacGregor when Montrose asks him to testify against the Duke of Argyll: “What you have asked me is as below me as it should be beneath your lordship.”

The relationship between Montrose and Cunningham brings to mind the Acts of Union, which formally united England and Scotland into one Kingdom and were passed shortly before the events depicted in the film. The Scottish public overwhelmingly opposed the union, but the Scottish elites, enticed in part by cash bribes and the promise of being reimbursed for their disastrous attempt to colonize Panama, supported it. This famously led Robert Burns to declare that Scotland had been “bought and sold for English gold.” Montrose himself was a key supporter of the Acts of Union, for which he was made a Duke (the description of him as a “marquess” in the film is technically inaccurate).

Viewed from this angle, there is a kinship between Montrose — that is, what Montrose represents — and Killearn. Killearn, who is quite fat, presumably approached Cunningham about MacGregor’s loan in the hopes of obtaining a slice of the pie for himself. He appears uncomfortable with Cunningham’s sadism but, being an obsequious coward, does not object to it. Ultimately, he is a fool, and is nothing more than a useful idiot to Cunningham.

In contrast to Cunningham, MacGregor is portrayed as a rugged warrior and a man of virtue. Rob Roy is essentially a Western filmed in Scotland, and not only because MacGregor is a cattle herder (in other words, a cowboy) and outlaw. The film revolves around his honor and his willingness to die for it. The political maneuvering of courtly life is alien to him: When he approaches Montrose for the loan, he naïvely offers his own word as collateral. This is again apparent when he refuses to slander the Duke of Argyll.

Unlike Cunningham, MacGregor is devoted to his family and clan. While Cunningham wants money for personal gain, MacGregor wants to provide for his clan and keep them out of poverty. The film dwells on his romance with Mary, a feisty redhead, which is more authentically “trad” than any fantasy cooked up by porn-addled Alt Right virgins. The contrast between their marriage and Cunningham’s short-term mating strategy is instructive. Mary is a compelling character; even in the face of being violated, she retains her proud bearing.

MacGregor is the avatar of a dying way of life threatened by capitalist social engineering and displacement. The burning of his home alludes to the Highland Clearances, which began only a few decades after the events depicted in the film. Beginning in the mid-eighteenth century, Scottish Highlanders were evicted from their homes by landlords who were seeking to increase their incomes by using their land to farm sheep. On some occasions, their homes were even burned down. They were resettled in coastal crofts and were forced to subsist by fishing or collecting kelp. Many of them immigrated to the New World to escape the hardships they faced (including Alexander MacGregor, a direct descendant of Rob Roy, who founded the town of McGregor, Iowa in 1847). These clearances hastened the demise of Highland culture, which was already declining due to government repression and agricultural modernization: In the aftermath of the Jacobite rising of 1745, the British government enacted harsh laws that undermined the power of clan chiefs and prohibited Highlanders from bearing arms, wearing Highland dress, and speaking Gaelic.

Beyond its potent themes, Rob Roy is a very well-crafted film. The acting is uniformly excellent and the script is witty and intelligent. The film was also shot on location and is full of panoramic shots of the Scottish Highlands. One of its highlights is its folk-inspired soundtrack, which includes a handful of performances by the Scottish folk band Capercaillie, as well as two Elizabethan ballads performed by an early music ensemble. The most memorable track is “Ailein Duinn,” a haunting traditional lament performed by Capercaillie and sung in Scottish Gaelic, which plays as Alan MacDonald is killed. Fittingly, the lyrics mourn the death of a man named Alan who perished on his journey home.

Rob Roy has been unjustly dwarfed by Braveheart despite being far superior. Braveheart has some great battle scenes, but Rob Roy is a much more serious film. Rob Roy’s Highland setting pervades the film from beginning to end, while Braveheart’s kilts and bagpipe music are mere window dressing. The film is a moving tribute to a way of life and a culture that no longer exist.

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