Word: caton
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directed by Michael Caton-Jones...
Archie, as he prefers to be called, just gets more and more evil. Burning villages? A lark. Killing cattle? Child's play. Rape is a little more satisfactory, and torture is really quite charming entertainment. Treachery, of course, adds a subtle spice to purely physical violence. Caton-Jones may overdo the characterization a bit, but Roth's performance steals the show, no doubt about it. Lucky Archie, thankfully unkilted, gets some juicy background to play on. He is a bitter bastard son, his possible fathers narrowed down to three. The material may be good, but it is Roth's control...
...Caton-Jones, at least, tried hard. You can-glimpse his effort in cute little by-the-way details. When MacGregor finally slaughters Cunningham (now you know--hopefully you won't bother to see for yourselves), the Marquis stoops over the body and pulls a cameo of Archie's mother out of the dead man's vest. Is the Marquis Archie's father? Intriguing, but we wish there had been some hint of the relationship beforehand. "Rob Roy" is fully of similar lagunas. One of the most glaring is the fade-out over the course of the film of the clan...
...Caton-Jones exerts himself on the dialogue too, with patchy results. The kind of faux Shakespeare that worked so well in "The Madness of King George" falls flat here, and the Scottish brogue overpowers some of the humor. There are just a few too many "whists" floating around. The best lines go to Cunningham, of course. When asked if he makes a habit of "buggering young boys," he replies that the last boy he buggered (several years before) he mistook for a girl, "as I'm sure has happened to you gentlemen...
...camera work is especially disappointing. With the full expanse of the heather-clad highlands to exploit, Caton-Jones focuses over and over again on hackneyed panorama shots and unconvincing, Hollywood-esque interiors. The few inspired angles on gray sky and barren hillsides only whet the viewer's appetite. Again, directorial detail work is evidenced in the all-too-fake sets of bad teeth and in the caked-on facial dirt (Make-up #57): "Psst! This is the eighteenth century...