THE BRUCE BROTHERS

Film Treatment: THE BRUCE BROTHERS

Logline: The brutal fight for Scottish independence fractures the bond between the brilliant but pragmatic King Robert the Bruce and his fiercely loyal but increasingly unhinged younger brother, Edward, forcing them to confront whether the ends of freedom can ever justify their monstrous means.

Tone: A gritty, visceral, and psychological historical drama in the vein of The Outlaw King and The King, focusing on the complex cost of leadership and the corrosive nature of war on family.

Characters:

  • ROBERT THE BRUCE (CHRIS ARMSTRONG): In his 40s. The King of Scots. A strategic genius and a natural leader, but weighed down by the immense moral and political burden of kingship. He is pragmatic to a fault, often making cold calculations for the greater good. His goal is a stable, independent Scotland, but the path to it is staining his soul.
  • EDWARD BRUCE (JOE JUKIC): Late 20s/Early 30s. Robert’s younger brother. A formidable, fearless, and terrifyingly effective warrior. His loyalty to Robert and the cause is absolute, but it is fueled by a deep-seated rage and a thirst for glory that borders on the berserk. He is the unleashed id to Robert’s calculating ego.
  • ELIZABETH DE BURGH (to be cast): Robert’s wife. His emotional anchor and moral compass. Her captivity by the English is a constant source of pain and strategic weakness for Robert.
  • SIR JAMES DOUGLAS (to be cast): The “Black Douglas.” A loyal lieutenant to Robert. He shares Edward’s ferocity in battle but channels it with more control, serving as a contrast to Edward’s descent.
  • AYMER DE VALENCE (to be cast): The ruthless English commander, representing the relentless pressure of the opposition.

SYNOPSIS

ACT I: THE FRACTURED CROWN

Opening: 1306. The aftermath of Methven. Robert’s army is shattered, his family and allies captured or killed. He and a handful of survivors, including a bloodied but defiant Edward, flee into the wilderness. This is not a glorious beginning but a desperate, humiliating scramble for survival. We see the core dynamic: Robert is already thinking three moves ahead, despairing at the cost. Edward sees only the insult and burns for immediate, brutal retaliation.

As Robert rebuilds his campaign through guerrilla tactics (showing the famous spider scene not as inspiration, but as a moment of grim perseverance), Edward is his most effective weapon. He takes castles with audacious, reckless assaults that Robert’s more cautious commanders would never attempt. Edward’s bravery is legendary, but Robert begins to see the warning signs: a relish for violence that goes beyond necessity, a contempt for prisoners, a belief that fear is the only true currency.

The central conflict is established: Robert needs to win the peace, to be a king who can rule. Edward only knows how to win the war.

ACT II: THE HAMMER AND THE ANVIL

  1. The stunning victory at Bannockburn is the brothers’ apex. Robert’s masterful strategy sets the trap, and Edward’s ferocious command of a schiltron or the cavalry charge is the hammer that breaks the English army. They are heroes, united in triumph. Scotland is, for the moment, free.

But victory exposes their rift. Robert, now a true king, must court diplomacy. He seeks recognition from the Pope and a lasting treaty with England. Edward sees this as weakness. To him, the enemy is humiliated but not destroyed. He argues for invading England itself, for carving out a kingdom of fire and blood.

Frustrated and sidelined by Robert’s politics, Edward’s violent impulses find a new outlet. He leads punitive raids into England that are so savage—massacring civilians, burning crops to the bedrock—that they become counterproductive, hardening English resistance and embarrassing Robert’s attempts to appear a legitimate sovereign. Their arguments become explosive. Robert is trying to build a nation; Edward is only interested in destroying an enemy.

ACT III: A KINGDOM OF ASH

  1. To channel Edward’s destructive energy away from undermining his diplomacy, Robert makes a fateful decision. He supports Edward’s ambition to open a second front by invading Ireland, to forge a Gaelic alliance and squeeze the English from the west. Robert gives his brother an army and a title: High King of Ireland.

At first, it works. Edward is in his element: conquest. He wins stunning victories against overwhelming odds. But his rule is one of terror. He alienates the very Irish allies he was sent to secure through his brutality and arrogance. Reports filter back to Robert of massacres and impaled bodies lining the roads. Robert is horrified, but he is too far away and too busy securing his own borders to intervene effectively. He is complicit.

The film culminates in the Battle of Faughart (1318). Edward, outnumbered and refusing to wait for reinforcements, charges headlong into the English/Irish army. It’s not a tactical decision; it’s a suicidal act of hubris. He is killed, his body hacked to pieces.

Final Scene: Robert receives the news. There is no grand eulogy. The silence in his council chamber is deafening. He looks not like a king who has lost a troublesome general, but like a brother who has lost his other half—the brutal, monstrous, but undeniably loyal part of himself that he first unleashed and then failed to control. He won his kingdom, but the cost is etched permanently on his face. The final shot is of Robert alone on a cliff, staring out at the sea towards Ireland, the weight of his crown, and his grief, finally and utterly crushing.


KEY THEMES

  • The Duality of Freedom: Is freedom won through statesmanship or savagery? The film argues it requires both, and that the latter inevitably corrupts the former.
  • Fraternal Bond vs. National Duty: The intense love and rivalry between brothers, and the tragedy when one’s duty to a nation requires the sacrifice of his brother’s soul and life.
  • The Cost of Kingship: Robert’s arc is about the terrible loneliness of leadership and the morally compromising decisions required to build something lasting.

VISUAL STYLE

  • Gritty and Naturalistic: No polished armour. Mud, blood, rain, and the harsh beauty of the Scottish and Irish landscapes.
  • Intimate Battle Choreography: Focus on the chaotic, personal, and terrifying nature of medieval combat. The camera stays close to Robert and Edward, contrasting Robert’s tactical awareness with Edward’s brutal, efficient killing.
  • Contrasting Palettes: Scotland is all muted greens, greys, and browns. The Irish campaign is shot with a bleaker, more desaturated palette, reflecting the doomed nature of the enterprise.
Solid Snake

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One Reply to “THE BRUCE BROTHERS”

  1. Scene 1: The Cave
    INT. CAVE – NIGHT – 1306

    Rain hammers the hillside outside. Inside a damp, cramped sea cave, the sound is a constant drumming.

    A handful of men, ragged and wounded, huddle around a meager peat fire. The air reeks of wet wool, blood, and despair.

    EDWARD BRUCE (Joe Jukic) paces like a caged wolf, his knuckles raw and bleeding. He kicks a loose stone, sending it clattering against the cave wall.

    EDWARD
    > We should never have split the force. De Valence knew. He knew we were there. It was a trap, and we walked right into it.
    Robert the Bruce (Chris Armstrong) sits apart, sharpening his dirk on a stone. His face is gaunt, etched with a fatigue that goes deeper than bone. He doesn’t look up.

    EDWARD (CONT’D)
    > They have my wife. Your Elizabeth. Your daughter! And here we sit, licking our wounds in a hole in the ground. This is not kingship, Robert. This is cowardice!
    Robert stops sharpening. The silence that follows is heavier than Edward’s outburst.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > (Quietly) > Are you quite finished?
    EDWARD
    > No, I am not! We rally what’s left. We find more men. We fall upon them like the wrath of God Himself and we—
    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > (His voice cuts, low and sharp) > And we die. And then there is no Scotland. It becomes a memory, a story the English tell about the troublesome northerners they once put down.
    Robert finally looks at him. His eyes are hollow, but there’s a fierce, cold light in them.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE (CONT’D)
    > You think I do not feel it? The rage? It is a fire in my gut that threatens to burn me to ash. But if I let it out, if *we* let it out now, it will consume everything. We are all that is left.
    He stands, his frame filling the low space. He isn’t just talking to Edward anymore, but to all the broken men.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE (CONT’D)
    > **”We fight not for glory, nor for wealth nor honours, but for freedom alone, which no good man gives up but with his life.”**
    The words hang in the air, a sacred vow. The men stir, some looking up for the first time.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE (CONT’D)
    > That is the cause. And for that cause, we must be more than angry men. We must be cunning. We must be patient. We must be like the spider, and build our kingdom thread by thread, until it is strong enough to hold the weight of a nation.
    He looks at Edward, his expression a mixture of love and profound exhaustion.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE (CONT’D)
    > Our wrath will have its day, brother. I promise you. But today… today we survive.
    Edward stares back, the fight draining from him, replaced by a sullen, simmering understanding. The strategic mind of the king has overruled the warrior’s heart. For now.

    Scene 2: The Price of a Crown
    INT. TENT – NIGHT – 1314

    The air is thick with the smell of victory: ale, sweat, and blood. Cheers from the Scottish camp echo outside.

    But inside Robert’s command tent, the mood is grim.

    Robert stands over a map. Sir James Douglas is with him. Edward bursts in, still in his blood-spattered mail, a triumphant, wild grin on his face.

    EDWARD
    > They broke! Did you see it? They shattered like glass! The field is ours, brother! The kingdom is yours!
    Robert doesn’t smile. He points a finger to a mark on the map—a list of high-ranking English prisoners taken.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > Pembroke. Here. Gloucester. There. Ransoms that could fill our coffers for a year. Leverage to get Elizabeth and my daughter back.
    EDWARD
    > Aye! And we shall parade them through every town from here to London in chains!
    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > No. We will treat them with the courtesy their rank demands. We are not savages. We are a kingdom seeking recognition.
    Edward’s grin vanishes.

    EDWARD
    > Courtesy? To the men who hunted us like animals? Who would have drawn your entrails for sport? This is madness!
    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > It is statecraft! We have won the field, Edward, not the war. The war is won in Rome and in Avignon, with treaties and seals, not just with swords!
    EDWARD
    > You sound like a clerk! Not the man who split de Bohun’s skull this morning! They respect strength! Fear! Nothing else!
    Robert slams his fist on the table, making the map jump.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > And what happens when the fear fades? When the hated occupier is replaced by the hated tyrant? Is that the freedom we fought for? To become a mirror image of our oppressors?
    He leans in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE (CONT’D)
    > **”It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom — for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.”**
    EDWARD
    > You quote yourself at me?
    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > I remind you of the cause! A free Scotland needs a king, not a butcher. A king must make peace as well as war. Even a peace that tastes of gall.
    The two brothers stare each other down, the chasm between them—king and warrior—now vast and unbridgeable. The cheers outside feel a million miles away.

    Scene 3: The News
    INT. DUNFERMLINE PALACE – GREAT HALL – DAY – 1318

    Grey light filters through high windows. Robert, older, wearier, but every inch a king, listens to a petition from Lowland farmers.

    A MESSENGER, caked in mud and frozen to the bone, stumbles into the hall. The guards move to stop him, but he collapses before the dais. All conversation stops.

    The man holds out a sealed, grimy dispatch. Robert takes it, his face unreadable. He breaks the seal and reads.

    The parchment trembles in his hand. The only sound is the crackling of the great fire.

    He doesn’t cry out. He doesn’t fall. He simply… folds. His shoulders slump, the immense weight he always carries seeming to double in an instant. He sits back on his throne, the paper falling to his lap.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > (To the hall, a hollow whisper) > Leave us.
    The petitioners and courtiers scramble out, sensing a profound and private grief. Douglas remains, standing vigil.

    Long moments pass. Robert picks up the dispatch again, though he knows the words by heart.

    SIR JAMES DOUGLAS
    > My Liege? Is it… Ireland?
    Robert nods, unable to form words. He looks at the empty hall, at the symbol of the kingdom he has built. The cost of every stone is laid bare before him.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE
    > (Voice thick with emotion) > He would not wait for reinforcements. He charged. He always charged… He has fallen.
    He looks at Douglas, his eyes full of a pain too deep for tears.

    ROBERT THE BRUCE (CONT’D)
    > **”I have always meant to… keep my brothers and me within the bounds of reason… but I cannot… always rule the fury of my brother Edward.”**
    The quote is an admission of guilt, of failure, of a truth he knew but could never control. The brilliant, furious, loyal, monstrous part of himself is gone. The king is alone with his crown, and it has never felt heavier.

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