Mel Gibson might as well make "vengeance" his middle name. Oh, sure -- fellow Aussie beefcake Russell Crowe took an admirable stab at one-upping mighty Mel as Gladiator’s justice-seeking hero. But Gibson’s been playing a score settler since way back in 1980, when his leather-clad Mad Max kicked serious biker butt after seeing his family run down and killed. Gibson continued this revenge theme with Lethal Weapon’s wild-eyed cop, Martin Riggs, who staggered through four films as a jittery crackpot who withstood inhuman torture and punishment, only to rise up and crush his tormentors. But why stop there? We haven’t even touched on Ransom, Conspiracy Theory, Braveheart, and -- inevitably -- Payback, all of which featured this deliverer of retribution doing what he does best. Indeed, it would be entirely appropriate for Gibson to name his production company after the Metallica song, Damage, Inc.

The plight of The Patriot’s Redcoat-slashing hero, Benjamin Martin, isn’t much different than those of other screwed-over loose cannons he’s played, aside from the Revolutionary War acting as a backdrop. The story is laced with early-American politics and historical flourishes, but at its core, The Patriot is a revenge melodrama... again. Nix the ponytail, and Benjamin could be William Wallace, sporting a kilt as he dodges Britain’s arrows, or Martin Riggs running down drug smugglers in Los Angeles. Same old song and dance? Perhaps. Yet, what a sensational jig this Gibson dances! The eyes blaze. The teeth gleam. The nostrils flare. With the possible exception of Al Pacino in his prime, there’s not another thespian alive that can match this commanding star’s fury as he’s downing the enemy with musket, sword, and hatchet. It works, so Gibson isn’t about to fix it.

The Patriot begins with long, panoramic scenes of colonial-era South Carolina. Eight of the thirteen American colonies have formed militias to fight against the invading British armies, and mobs are burning a likeness of King George in Charlestown. Meanwhile, an assembly has convened there, with Colonial soldiers encouraging locals to establish their own military force. Martin, however, rejects the notion. A legendary warrior from the French-Indian Wars, this father of seven children has his reservations about returning to combat. When a comrade questions Martin’s principles, the retort is blunt and assured: "I’m a parent. I don’t have the luxury of principles."

But there’s something bothering Martin about the Revolution that extends beyond his paternal concern for family safety. The inevitable war is forcing him to re-evaluate past deeds and agonize over a colonial post-traumatic-stress-disorder. Looking into a rear view mirror with an old and wiser eye, this mellowed dad doesn’t like what he sees. When one of his sons peruses through an old war chest, finding and donning his dad’s military uniform, Martin gives him a disapproving glance. "Put it away," he instructs coldly. Later on in the film, we learn the full extent of this man’s past wartime deeds. It’s not pretty.

Before long, Redcoats and Colonial soldiers are exchanging gunfire outside the Martin homestead, where Benjamin is acting the role of pacifist by tending to the wounds of both sides from his porch. The reluctant warrior is jolted into action, however, when a cruel British colonel named Tavington (Jason Isaacs) shackles the eldest of Martin’s sons, Gabriel (Heath Ledger), and yanks him off of the family farm to be hanged. As one of his younger boys attempts to rescue Gabriel, the remorseless colonel shoots him in the back. Following this cold-blooded offense, Mel becomes The Payback Patriot.

"Lord, make me fast and accurate," Martin prays before leading two younger sons to a swampy crossing and ambushing Gabriel’s captors. It’s a horrifying sequence, as the father instructs his prepubescent boys to kill on sight and joins them in a bloody, savage rescue involving guns and hatchets. The eerie executions, juggling slow motion with gritty, up-close battle, echo Michael Mann’s gorgeously gory war scenes from Last of the Mohicans, and Steven Spielberg’s unsparing carnage from Saving Private Ryan. In subsequent battles, where the stakes are raised and thousands of troops charge each other with cannons and musket fire, heads and limbs are removed en masse by speeding, metal projectiles. As with Gibson’s Academy-Award Winner Braveheart, The Patriot is distinguished by riveting, realistic, and rousing battle scenes.

Meanwhile, there’s more than just gore and grue. Robert Rodat’s complex script weaves together a web of details that often seem like throwaways until they evolve into more crucial plot points later on. And there are surprises. After the rescue of Gabriel, for instance, Martin is shocked to hear one of the participating sons relishing the memory of his killings. "I’m glad I killed them," the boy proclaims with complete conviction. It’s scary to hear the youngster process combat not as trauma, but as liberation.

There are clever scenes involving Martin’s attempts to recruit militia members, after he’s finally committed himself to the Colonial cause. Interrupting a church service, his pushy recruiters convince a minister to enlist. "A shepherd must tend to his flock," says the inspired clergyman, "and sometimes fight off the wolves."

On the downside, there are also sappy moments, including a tacked-on romance between Gabriel and a peppy romantic interest named Ann: the two mischievous lovebirds lace each other’s tea with ink and giggle lovingly with black-toothed smiles. By film’s end, this dumb courtship ritual has become a tired gag. Equally overstated are The Patriot’s many, unending scenes of people coming to mutual understandings and exchanging knowing glances, while John Williams’ feel-good score pounds forth annoyingly. For instance, there’s the token African American slave who continues to fight with Martin’s troops even after being granted his freedom. "It’s a pleasure to serve with you," offers a white soldier when the slave announces; "Now I’m here on my own accord." More knowing glances and soaring strings follow. Ho-hum.

Ultimately, The Patriot boils down to a confrontation between Martin and Tavington, and it’s fortunate that this adversarial relationship anchors the movie. Isaacs plays the British Colonel as a fiendish monster equal parts Captain Hook, Hannibal Lector, and Sgt. Barnes of Platoon. Wielding a crooked sword and painting the battlefield as red as his uniform, this mannered, sneering thug isn’t beyond burning a church full of worshippers or impaling fresh-faced Colonial recruits just for the ugly fun of it. When he lets down his waist-length mane during the final bloody battle, Tavington resembles a charismatic rock frontman strutting for a crowd. Carnal, cunning, and wicked, Isaacs’ Tavington is one of the best screen villains of the past decade. 

Another star of The Patriot is its unlikely director Roland Emmerich. Previously known for such all-hype, no-substance formula blockbusters as Stargate, Independence Day, and Godzilla, Emmerich has coupled the wide-screen, larger-than-life feel of those movies with a personal touch that they lacked. When he gives characters time to breathe, as when Martin finally comes clean with Gabriel about his French-Indian War past, it’s riveting. Emmerich’s association with this ambitious historical epic is also an encouraging sign that big-budget filmmakers are willing to get beyond aliens and tired, futuristic sci-fi, and dig into the archives of history for their projects. Commend Saving Private Ryan and Titanic for this welcome trend, and embrace a future where the high-tech filmmaking of the new millenium brings history into a sharper, more colorful focus.

Click here to read Cynthia Fuch's interview with Jason Isaacs.

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