This version of the film, which gets about everything from the novel wrong in spite of a competent cast and some good location shots, is one that all of its participants -- all who are still living, that is -- seem never to mention. Michael York in particular goes through the whole thing with an ironic smugness that suggests no one was really taking Stevenson seriously. That's a pity, because it could have been a good old-fashioned action flick in the manner of its predecessors, but with an added cachet of great color and wide Scottish vistas. Truly a disappointment.
Review of The Master of Ballantrae
