The legend of Ned Kelly seems like a perfect match for the silver screen. Shootouts, kidnappings, racist police vendettas, a mother imprisoned, a rebel knight in actual armour, and horses, horses, horses. A winning formula for a classic romantic epic, or at worst, a great B-movie entertainment? Well, there’s no nice way to say this: Tony Richardson’s 1970 version of Ned Kelly is paced and scripted like a History Channel reject.

Okay, that’s a little harsh: the story of Australia’s Kelly Gang is enough to recommend any film that gets the facts straight. And this one does it with some unique artistic touches. The black and white prologue, for instance, where Kelly meets his destiny on the gallows, is stark, dream-like and disturbing. Then the main story shifts back into first gear and stays that way.

Young Ned (Mick Jagger) has returned from prison to his poor Irish cattle-herding family and, so he claims, to the straight and narrow. But Ned’s got the devil in him, and his family’s reputation for crime is widely known. Small incidents escalate and the police grow openly antagonistic. When a drunken constable is wounded in the Kelly home, Ned’s mother (Clarissa Kaye) is handed a three-year prison sentence. Ned swears vengeance.

His gang commits a series of daring raids and robberies with flash and humour—commandeering a funeral party, disguising themselves as cops, etc. They use the money to help their persecuted Irish brethren. Ned considers himself a political outlaw, and plans to declare a new Irish republic. The police have other plans, and the inevitable showdown delivers the blood.

The problem is that there’s no sense of building drama. The climax, where a fully-armoured Ned looms out of the mist to take on an entire squadron, is one of the best scenes, but it doesn’t make up for the discord that comes before. The editing is jerky, and we learn next to nothing about the supporting characters. Casting Mick Jagger must have seemed like a good theory; he was the very embodiment of anti-establishment bad-boyism. Jagger brings great spirit to the character, but no acting chops. His Irish accent? Junior high Brigadoon. I guess he’s better than Yahoo Serious (look it up).

What the film lacks in pacing and characterization, it makes up for in beauty. The Australian locations are gorgeous. Even more amazing is the quality of the digital transfer. Some will find the non-anamorphic aspect ratio irritating, and maybe so. But the correct tone of each scene’s images, from hazy to sharp, has been preserved. The audio has not been so lovingly treated. Levels are changing every ten seconds, especially in the Waylon Jennings folk ballads that constantly step on the dialogue.