Latest news with #RobertTheBruce
The Independent
3 days ago
- Business
- The Independent
Development on Bannockburn battlefield site refused planning permission
Scottish ministers have refused planning permission for a development on the historic Bannockburn battlefield site. Turning down plans to build a trotting track for harness racing, the Scottish Government ruled the proposals would 'introduce new development and urbanisation in one of the few remaining undeveloped parts of the battlefield'. As such it ruled the development 'would have a significant adverse effect on the character of the battlefield, its setting and sense of place'. The site is where in June 1314 Robert the Bruce and his Scottish army famously defeated English troops led by King Edward II. Stirling Council approved plans for the development in July last year, with conservation charity the National Trust for Scotland saying was 'shocked and disappointed' at the decision. The Scottish Government formally 'called in' the decision in August 2024, with ministers now overturning the council's original determination. While ministers were 'sympathetic' to points made in support of the application, their ruling stated they 'do not consider that the benefits of the proposed development would outweigh the adverse impacts on a nationally significant battlefield and its associated listed buildings'. Ministers added the part of the battlefield where the development was to be sited is 'especially sensitive and remains undeveloped' – adding this 'greatly assists an appreciation of its role in the battle'. Diarmid Hearns, acting director of conservation and policy at the National Trust for Scotland, said: 'This is very welcome news for the trust and all who care about Scotland's heritage and history.' He said the ministers' conclusions 'closely accord with our stated views that this development was simply in the wrong place and would have badly impacted upon the setting of the battlefield'. He added: 'We hope that this decision brings this matter to an end and that the developer withdraws to a new site elsewhere that will not impinge on places of historical importance.' The Scottish Government also refused a separate application for a golf driving range to be built in the area, saying: 'The proposed development does not effectively protect the cultural significance or the key landscape characteristics of the battlefield.' Ministers said these plans 'would have a significant adverse impact on the landscape features, character and setting of the battlefield and that the overall integrity and character of the battlefield area would be compromised by the proposed development'. A Scottish Government spokesperson confirmed: 'Scottish ministers have refused planning permission for a golf driving range and trotting track within the Bannockburn battlefield.'
The Guardian
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Braveheart at 30: Mel Gibson's gory, hokey Oscar winner plays like a biblical epic
For a storied best picture Oscar winner and dorm-wall poster staple of the 1990s and beyond, it's a little surprising how modest Braveheart's success was when it opened in theaters 30 years ago. Though it powered through a mild opening to become a solid summer hit, on the 1995 charts it sits below Father of the Bride Part II and Congo (though congratulations are in order; it did edge out both Grumpier Old Men and Mortal Kombat). Even among other Mel Gibson vehicles from the 90s, you might be surprised to learn that Maverick, Conspiracy Theory and Payback all posted stronger numbers. But Braveheart stuck around, both in theaters and in the public consciousness. It wasn't necessarily tipped as an awards contender at the time of release – Gibson had only directed one other movie, a small-scale drama called The Man Without a Face – but wound up nominated for 10 Oscars and winning half of them, including a best director prize for Gibson. He wasn't nominated for his performance, but it became a career signature, his rousing speech and blue facepaint instantly absorbed into his iconography. He plays William Wallace, a Scottish warrior who leads a rebellion against King Edward I in the 13th century, when Scotland's dead king left no heir and England swooped in to conquer. The details of the story, which positions Robert the Bruce (Angus McFadyen) as a politicking compromiser, are inspired more from an epic poem than the historical record, which presumably aided its easy-to-follow epic pull. The movie itself is sort of a print-the-legend affair, too, rather than a parade of perfect scenes. Its three hours are full of hacky touches: plummy introductory narration getting the audience up to speed on the historical context; dialogue that underlines motivations at every turn; the occasional embarrassing tribute to its star's virility; Gibson's trademark zany broadness peeking through at odd times. Worst of that material is the running subplot about the king's gay son, where Gibson sees fit to stage the scene where the king throws his son's lover out a window to his death like a grim slapstick punchline – because to Gibson, that's precisely what it is. (King Edward may be a cruel tyrant, Gibson seems to be saying, but he sure isn't weak like his mincing son!) At times the movie resembles nothing more than an R-rated version of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves – and some accounts of its historical accuracy or lack thereof would bear out that comparison. What most people are thinking of when they think about Braveheart is a lengthy sequence in the middle of the film, where Gibson's Wallace, face striped in that memorable blue, gives his stirring speech about living a long life of regretting a lack of freedom, then leads the Scotsmen into a long and impressively gory battle, ending in triumph. Half an hour later, there's another, less victorious for the Scots, also memorably gory. And of course, the capture, torture and defiant death of William Wallace at the end of the film is a notable culmination (though by no means end) of Gibson's fixation on chronicling extensive bodily punishment, a grimmer Catholic-guilt precursor to what Tom Cruise puts himself in the name of stunts. This may have been the precise point where Gibson became better known for taking that punishment than as a romantic lead; presumably less remembered or cherished among Braveheart's fans is Wallace's unconvincing dalliance with Princess Isabella of France, played by the decade-younger Sophie Marceau. The ease of reducing Braveheart to its highlights-reel essentials makes it a throwback to the have-you-actually-watched-this-lately epics of decades earlier – not the durably brilliant likes of Lawrence of Arabia or Spartacus, but rather more akin to the biblical epics that don't get quite as much play as The Ten Commandments. Of course, that's where Gibson would go next as a director, and as surprisingly modest a grosser as Braveheart was in its day, The Passion of the Christ was shockingly huge nine years later. Yet despite that massive hit and his Braveheart Oscar in tow, Gibson's directorial career never really reached its full potential. Some of that was his own doing, as drunken, hate-filled antics came to dominate his public image right around the time he unleashed his, ah, Passion. But his peers were clearly ready to forgive (how else to explain the Oscar attention afforded to the similarly martyr-focused and gory Hacksaw Ridge?) and directing offered a clear opportunity to stay a little further from the spotlight while remaining in control of his films. His most recent project, the terribly generic (though recognizably Gibson-y) Flight Risk landed with a thud this past January. Maybe Braveheart, successful as it was in the long term, made it harder to accept Gibson as a matinee idol with flashes of intriguing darkness, and easier to see him as a passionate madman who could really draw some blood. Or maybe it was just a hard one to top in the affections of so many bros. Regardless, the movie itself re-established a beachhead at the Oscars for mega-sized epics. After the Dances with Wolves victory at the top of the decade, the anointed best pictures got a little more eclectic for a few years: horror thriller The Silence of the Lambs, elegiac revisionist western Unforgiven, Spielberg's masterly Schindler's List, the picaresque comedy-drama Forrest Gump. Braveheart came along and waved the flag for subsequent winners like The English Patient, The Lord of the Rings and especially Gladiator. Thirty years on, that style of film-making feels more distant than it did back in 1995, its resources more likely to be poured into expensive fantasy. Of course, Braveheart is its own form of expensive fantasy, too, selling the power of its own brawny dumbness. For a few hours, it summons enough powerful sweep to convince the audience that Gibson, weird hang-ups and all, might be a star for the ages.
Telegraph
17-05-2025
- Telegraph
The genteel Borders town the Scots keep for themselves
'This is the town that Scots seem to keep for ourselves,' beams Stewart Wilson, a guide whose enthusiasm for his Borders homeland risks letting the secret out, as he proudly shares a corner of the Tweed Valley settled since Neolithic times. 'It's crazy that today most people just zoom by heading further north as Melrose brings together many of the best bits of the Borders in one charming wee town.' If us Scots are keeping Melrose under wraps today it's hardly surprising: historically, Melrose has not had the most polite of visitors. England's Edward I plundered through in 1300, his son Edward II continued the family tradition by sacking Melrose in 1322, before this market town was battered again during the 'Rough Wooing' of Henry VIII in the 1540s. Melrose's most celebrated attraction, its landmark abbey, is a permanent visceral reminder of those turbulent times. The locals may be proud that the heart of Scotland's most celebrated monarch, Robert the Bruce (of Bannockburn fame), is interred here, but the abbey is but a romantic ruin – perhaps Scotland's most evocative – after Richard II's forces burned it in 1385 and the Reformation put the final nail in its grand Gothic coffin. The English legacies run deep – local legend even insists that King Arthur lies buried in the Eildon Hills. We know that the Romans coveted the triple peaks of the Eildon Hills too, forging one of the largest forts anywhere in Britain, eponymous Trimontium, a stronghold of such significance it featured on a map produced by Roman geographer Ptolemy in the second century. At least one emperor, Septimius Severus, visited in 208AD, bringing with him the largest Roman army ever to march north into the country. Once again, though, the Romans were sent home tae think again. 'Scotland was ancient Rome's Afghanistan,' Thania M Flores, of Melrose's Trimontium Museum, tells me as their new virtual-reality headset experience vaults me back through the centuries to the days when Roman raiding parties tried to terrorise the local clans into submission. 'The united opposition to the Romans became so strong that we have found evidence during digs that Trimontium was abandoned with great haste,' continues Flores. 'This suggests a powerful, united enemy, centuries before Anglo-centric scholars even consider an embryonic Scottish nation. It's a potential game-changer for how we look at British history.' The museum also runs walking tours around the Trimontium site, visiting the northernmost amphitheatre in the Roman Empire. I instead pitch forward through time to Burts. This stately, traditional hotel is a pleasing timewarp itself, and has been in the same family for 54 years. It has changed little since my wife and I decided on our first child's name here. Tara is now 17. Over delicious Borders lamb and a pint of a crisp hoppy ale from the superb local Tempest Brewery Co, owner Nick Henderson tells me: 'We are all about tradition and heritage in Melrose and our hotel reflects that. We welcome guests to a gentler age where things were less hurried and people had time for each other. And it's so much quieter than the Lake District to our south.' The Hendersons are the embodiment of Melrose's sense of tradition and community. Just across the picturesque High Street is the Townhouse Hotel, run by Nick's brother James. Both recline on a market square that evokes the days when we didn't need weekend farmers' markets in car parks as you could just pop into a proper butchers. Wandering around Melrose is like exploring Camberwick Green or Trumpton. I half expect to meet Windy Miller. Instead, at the well-stocked Country Kitchen Deli, cheery Angela Abbey, who swapped the Cotswolds for Melrose for a 'gentler, slower life', greets me. At Simply Delicious, I enjoy their tasty tablet – a sweet Scottish treat much tastier than it sounds – as the beaming welcomes continue. I'm greeted like an old pal in antique shops, wine emporiums, wee galleries and the sprinkling of tasteful gift shops that Melrose tolerates. Melrose even has a book binder – Felicity Bristow – who entreats me to come back for the annual book festival in June. Melrose doesn't do chains. No Starbucks. No Costa. No hint of a supermarket; only Boots, who have an apologetically unassuming presence. This trim, liveable town makes a defiant stand against the world of supermarket hegemony, a battle Galashiels just a few miles upriver resoundingly lost a couple of decades ago with the arrival of a hulking Tesco and similarly suffocating Asda. It's very tempting to stay wrapped within Melrose's cosy cocoon, but there are too many two-footed options to ignore. Melrose must be Scotland's best connected walking hub. An excellent network of trails ramble around the town's environs in the Melrose Paths community-led initiative. The coast-to-coast, 215-mile Southern Upland Way also surges through along the lifeblood River Tweed, while the St Cuthbert's Way sends walkers on a cross-border ecclesiastical foray to Lindisfarne. I embark on a section of the 68-mile Borders Abbeys Way, a circular trail that takes in the ruins of the quartet of grand Borders Abbeys that were all sacked by unruly English visitors over the centuries. If us Scots are keeping Melrose to ourselves, we've gone a step further and totally abandoned the hills that rise to the east. I hike above Sir Walter Scott's palatial home at Abbotsford and the only souls I see are of the white woollen variety, bar one deer interloper. It's just me, the gently rolling hills of the Tweed Valley – a tonic to the savageness of the Highlands – and the sort of eclectic forestry that you seldom savour in the vast tracts of grouse-beaten Highland estate. The skies are blue and the spring sun is burning after a couple of hours, so I could be forgiven for thinking Cedar Hus Sauna is a mirage. The sense of surreality heightens when Laura Mitchell engages me with a smile and hands me a wool hat that is needed 'to keep your ears cool when I'm thrashing you with birch'. It's quite an introduction from Mitchell and turns chilly when we take a dip in Lindean Loch as part of the ritual. Laura then joins me steaming away in her brilliant home-fashioned mobile sauna, steeping us with fresh pine fragrance, then doing the thrashing; much more pleasurable than it sounds.
