Robin Hood

Imagine the scene: BFFs Ridley “Geordie” Scott and Russell “Pork Pie” Crowe discuss their next venture over pints and pork scratchings. “So, Ridders mate, what’s our next one gonna be?” “Something historical, ah reckon Russ lad. Ah cannit do nowt else these days.” “Bonza! We can’t go back to the Romans – punters are sick of that. Wozzit gonna be, then?” “Something topical – leek what ah did with Kingdom of Heaven an’ that. That was canny good.” “I know Ridders! What about Robin Hood? Steal from the rich, toss the bankers on the barbie and all that.” “Aye, that’s top thinking, lad. Ah’ll sort summit out leek. Reet, where’s me parmo gone?”

Scott and Crowe’s film acts as a prequel to the Robin Hood legend (‘origin stories’ like James Bond and Mr Spock being all the rage these days). Robin (Crowe) returns from the crusades with his gaggle of not so merry men thoroughly sick of fighting (and not getting paid for it). Heading back to England, they intercept the ambush of a nobleman by the film’s dastardly villain (Mark Strong, playing his now trademarked moustache-twirling panto character), intent on seizing dead King Richard’s crown and causing general mayhem for merry old England. Promising the dying lord he will deliver the crown back to England and carry his father’s favourite sword back home to Nottingham (where else?), Robin & Co proceed to do just that.

Once they arrive, however, they discover that all is far from well. Marion (Cate Blanchett), the deceased lord’s wife, is busy fending off the Sheriff’s unwelcome advances (Matthew Macfadyen, with dead hamsters apparently glued to his face), keeping tax-collectors at bay, and finding enough grain to feed the locals. Wouldn’t things be easier if Robin pretended to be her husband, kept public order and restored the estates to their former glory? Well…yes, and things go quite nicely until – you guessed it – that nasty Mark Strong returns with an army of Frenchies to prepare the way for the invasion fleet (a medieval take on the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan). Robin rallies the troops, saves England...and is therefore condemned to live forever as an outlaw. Yes, that’s really what happens, in defiance of all logic and plot coherence. This departure from good sense is only done to distinguish this as a Robin Hood film and set up the inevitable sequel.

Robin Hood isn’t a bad film – but it’s tired and hackneyed. You can’t shake the feeling that every image and plot-thread has been borrowed from another (Ridley Scott) movie – and you begin to lose patience. It originally meant to focus on the Sheriff of Nottingham, putting a spin on an otherwise fatigued story; it’s a shame this never happened, because everything is as predictable as a dog’s dinner. Near the end, it launches into absurdity, turning Marion into a Xena character where no such transformation was needed. Geography isn’t a strong point either, with Strong travelling from London to Nottingham via Darlington. Another unwelcome twist arrives when Robin’s father is revealed as a medieval Thomas Jefferson, distilling six hundred years of moral and political philosophy into a neat little catch-phrase – it’s shockingly banal and incoherent. If Robin Hood is meant to celebrate an ordinary person’s willpower, surely it would be better if he wasn’t some Harry Potter-like figure of destiny, but a regular man who’s very skilled with a bow and arrow and dislikes living under an oppressive regime? Sadly, this is not the stuff from which great action films are made; it is a mildly entertaining way to spend a couple of hours – just don’t expect anything of Gladiator-sized proportions or staying power.

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