In the opening moments of Michael Sarnoski鈥檚 Hugh Jackman鈥檚 Robin shelters on a cold and desolate peatland. A young attacker (Jade Croot) emerges from the dark emptiness beyond his campfire. He grabs her, tells her it was a mistake to bathe. He could smell her downwind. Then he puts a knife through her skull.
Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly what a day.
Whichever version of Robin Hood is your favorite 鈥� three cheers for 鈥� the story takes a beating in 鈥淭he Death of Robin Hood.鈥� There are no knights in shining armor. There are no merry men. There is absolutely no swashbuckling.
Sarnoski, the director of the excellent Nicolas Cage thriller 鈥淧ig鈥� and sci-fi sequel has sapped every bit of derring-do from the folk hero. It鈥檚 a thoughtful inversion of myth with some compelling ideas about the nature of storytelling. But it鈥檚 a total slog.
鈥淭he Death of Robin Hood鈥� drains the blood, and life, out of an old English legend. So forget about robbing from the rich and stealing from the poor. This Robin is a grizzled marauder who can鈥檛 even remember how many people he鈥檚 killed. We are, to say the least, very, very far from men in tights.
This is to a purpose in Sarnoski鈥檚 film, which, like Robert Eggers鈥� and David Lowery鈥檚 brings a primal realism to an old legend. As much as we might think of Errol Flynn or Kevin Costner, the origins of the story of Robin Hood weren鈥檛 so cheery.
Robin Hood began as an oral tale dating back to the 12th century. A few hundred years later, the first written accounts were ballads. Sarnoski鈥檚 film takes its title from one of those ballads, in which Robin Hood 鈥� long before there was any Maid Marian to speak of 鈥� was a mere yeoman. Only as the centuries wore on did Robin Hood gradually accrue the trappings of Sir Robin of Locksley.
There might have been a compelling movie to be made from those early, fragmented origins. But 鈥淭he Death of Robin Hood鈥� instead expends too much of its energy rubbing our face in the muck. Mud cakes the movie鈥檚 first half, which so strenuously insists on its revisionist approach that it quickly turns tiresome.
Jackman 鈥� weathered and bearded 鈥� looks amazing, like a medieval Santa Claus. And so does the movie, shot across rugged, wind-swept Northern Ireland vistas by cinematographer Patrick Scola. Robin, himself, appears weighed down by the mythology around him. He doesn鈥檛 use the name and calls the rumors about him 鈥渓ies upon lies.鈥� But others are buoyed by it.
Little John (Bill Skarsg氓rd) is no great friend but a reluctant companion for Robin. He listens to Little John talk up a new scheme as 鈥渁 good adventure鈥� shortly before Little John beats a man to death for bread. The battle that follows 鈥� a muddy and mean scrum 鈥� is even more ghastly, partly for its utter pointlessness.
This great disparity between reality and story, truth and history, takes on new dimensions when Robin clandestinely takes refuge at an island priory where Sister Brigid (Jodie Comer) tends to his wounds. He is sheltering Little John鈥檚 daughter, Margaret (Faith Delaney), but their secret past is quietly threatened with the arrival of a young man (Noah Jupe) whose maimed, bandaged face evidences a recent run-in with Robin and Little John.
Robin鈥檚 coldness and cruelty begins to melt away thanks to Sister Brigid and the peaceful life he finds there. If story had previously been a yoke around his neck, Robin realizes another purpose when he considers Margaret’s future.
In a way, 鈥淭he Death of Robin Hood鈥� is an appropriately contemporary version of a much-retold story, suited to a time when lies and denial of history rule the day. But the oppressive dourness and forced cynicism of the film suffocate the characters in a way that feels no more realistic than Mel Brooks’ 1993 parody. The result, while admirably considered, is almost comically misjudged 鈥� like insisting Paddington the bear sits on a throne of lies. In the end, 鈥淭he Death of Robin Hood鈥� ironically supports : Print the legend.
鈥淭he Death of Robin Hood,鈥� an A24 release in theaters Friday, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for strong bloody violence. Run time: 123 minutes. Two stars out of four.
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