cotland was in the throes of famine, disease, and the greed of noblemen during the early 1700s. The centuries-old Clan system was on the out; the respect and honor of family names were steadily diminishing. By 1713 in the Scottish Highlands, a striking figure like the fur-and-leather-adorned, kilted chief Robert Roy MacGregor (Liam Neeson) leads his band of men in pursuit of a group of cattle thieves who have stolen from James Graham, the Marquess of Montrose (John Hurt), though his role isn’t as threatening or awe-inspiring as it used to be. Although MacGregor could slaughter the crooks in the middle of the night, he opts to negotiate with them face to face – a less brutal, more charitable act. “I’m going to talk to them in the morning.”

But it’s not exactly a civilized era. At a castle gathering with the Duke of Argyll (Andrew Keir), Montrose presents the soft-spoken, ornately bewigged, brightly-clothed, effeminate Englishman Archibald Cunningham (Tim Roth), who embarrassingly bests one of the Duke’s most skilled swordsmen in a high-stakes duel – a sign of the troubles that will soon befall those surrounding Graham. And although MacGregor (who signs his name McGregor) works for Montrose, the 200-some people in MacGregor’s village are poor and hungry, many succumbing to sickness. He isn’t keen on watching his kin suffer as the Marquess turns greater profits. But he finds great happiness in his wife Mary (Jessica Lange) and their two children, working in the lush fields and soaking up the sunlight.

After bargaining for a loan, Robert celebrates with his people, but the terms are suddenly changed, putting confidant Alan McDonald (Eric Stoltz) in a compromising situation. He’s given coin instead of a signed paper for the amount – an underhanded bit of skulduggery that allows Montrose’s factor/accountant Killearn (Brian Cox) to conspiratorially inform Cunningham, who arranges for a late-night theft of the physical money. This results in the MacGregor clan being on the hook – a considerable dispute for a lowly herder to have with an influential nobleman.

Examining honor and trust and pride, which must be settled, eventually, in the form of the highly-stationed against the commoner in armed combat, this period-piece costume-drama, based on a historical figure, is technically quite proficient. Engagingly, beyond the attention to details – ranging from sprawling locations (shot entirely in Scotland) and sets to props, apparel, armory, dialogue, and more – “Rob Roy” is a character study. It may involve real people and places and politics (only loosely accurate as they may be), but it boils down to maintaining firm beliefs and standing up against the wicked; the always-cinematic right versus wrong. It’s not quite as epic or action-packed (or consequential) as “Braveheart” from the same year, but in its simplicity and seriousness and severity, it’s nevertheless an arresting picture.

Since justice must be had, retribution is guaranteed; although there are more complicated machinations going on (both with Killearn’s betrayal and divisive Jacobite allegiances), the final act dwells on pure revenge – which is exceptional, involving several of the most riveting examples of onscreen vengeance (and thrilling escapes), to the point that Roy’s historical significance is all but lost to unadorned wrath. “Rob will kill every last one of them!” Leading up to the various showdowns are astounding performances, particularly from the supporting cast; this might be Lange’s best work, while Brian McCardie is first-rate as a youthful MacGregor clansman, and Roth has never been more despicable as a foppish, un-daunting-looking scoundrel. And although it poses questionable authenticity and focuses on a rather personal, intimate grievance (disregarding the bulk of the raiding and killing conducted by Montrose’s soldiers and what Roy ultimately meant for highlanders), it’s impossible to ignore just how satisfying the conclusion is – directed patiently by Michael Caton-Jones, with a swelling, romantic score by Carter Burwell.

– Mike Massie