Anyone who has watched Braveheart will know that Scott Johnson is not the first big-haired Australian to turn up in Scotland and issue a few home truths.

But if Johnson boned up on the movie before he arrived, it would not be his countryman Mel Gibson's twaddle about freedom and courage that provided the most instructive line, but rather a passing observation from King Edward I. "The trouble with Scotland," opined old Longshanks at one point, "is that it is full of Scots."

It was a point that seemed to be lost on Matt Williams, the first Australian to occupy the head coach's chair at Murrayfield, who spent his brief and unlamented year-and-a-half in charge trying to get Scottish players to play every other style of game but the one they were actually rather good at.

Williams' era ended in March 2005 with a 43-22 loss to England at Twickenham. On paper, it was another drab defeat – the ninth of the coach's 10 Six Nations games in charge – but it was actually a rather uplifting experience.

Far behind as the match went into is final half-hour, the Scots transformed themselves and suddenly began to play with wit, passion and devil. They were never going to catch England on the scoreboard, but they were damned if they were going to leave the place with their tails between their legs.

Williams tried to claim credit for the fightback. Over the next few days it became abundantly clear that it had nothing whatsoever to do with him, as player after player testified that the tactical u-turn had come from within the squad itself. It was, in effect, a mutiny, and it sealed Williams' fate and then, within a few weeks, he was the former Scotland coach.

There is a wonderful irony in the fact that Johnson would like to be a former Scotland coach as well. But until Vern Cotter manages to sever his ties with Clermont Auvergne and get himself over to Edinburgh, Johnson is stuck with the job. And over the past few weeks in South Africa he seems to have figured out how best it should be done.

It may have been a moment of blinding inspiration or an epiphany shaped in moments of quiet contemplation. Whatever its origins, the significance could be far-reaching. For Johnson has decreed that his Scotland players should play like Scots.

Inspired or what? This is the kind of clarity of thought and needle-sharp reasoning you get when you pay an international jet-setter like Johnson a hefty six-figure salary and ask him what he thinks. The fact it's pretty much the same as what everyone else has been saying for years is just one of those unfortunate little coincidences.

But let's cut him some slack here. What Johnson is arguing is that his team should try to be a very good Scotland side rather than a very poor imitation of anyone else. In other words, they should play to their strengths. In his own words, his message is: "Stop trying to be something that you are not."

So far, so Johnno. Through his entire career, Johnson has earned a reputation as a coach who likes to put an arm round his players, tell them how good they are, make them believe in themselves. His message now is just a variation on that theme. "You're good players," he is saying. "Go out there and do what you do best."

What he wants is the sort of fast rucking game that was Scotland's hallmark in that era when John Jeffrey, Finlay Calder and Derek White were in their ruinous pomp in the Scotland back row. He wants his players to hit rucks hard, low and often. He wants what Jim Telfer wanted – and, memorably, got.

It is, in essence, the kind of game Scotland played against South Africa last weekend. To be in the Mbombela Stadium in Nelspruit as Scotland rocked the Springboks back on their heels was to witness some spine-tingling rugby, glistening with self-belief. But it was also, ultimately, to be witness to another Scotland defeat, and by a 13-point margin at that.

Johnson is in the uniquely enviable position of not being judged by results. When his time is done, he will be moved upstairs anyway, to concentrate on his role as national director of rugby. It is, on the one hand, an absurd scenario; on the other it is a chance to fashion a team and a way of playing.

Except, of course, that Johnson's authority could be critically undermined by a succession of experimental sides producing a succession of defeats. As things stand, he is on a run of four, and an extension of that sequence will not be forgiven easily by fans.

That's the trouble with Scotland. Will Johnson end up asking himself whether he is in the wrong movie after all?