The Death of Robin Hood
[Showtimes and trailer at Tropiccinema.com]

Michael Sarnoski (Pig ) directs an existential, morose, and odd story in “The Death of Robin Hood,” employing the beloved Robin character. The film is atmospheric, gloomy and stern. The unusual theme of a swashbuckler under constant angst is original with some dramatic gravity, but its handling is ultra-serious, understated and far too lugubrious for most. 

Here Robin ( Hugh Jackman) is unkempt, fatigued and gray bearded, nearly exhausted from constant battle. When John’s (Bill Skarsgård) family gets fire-bombed, Robin goes into full Medieval Death mode and gorily chops up the marauders. One of the aggressors stabs Robin in the kidney several times like a high powered vegetable slicer and Robin stuffs a torch into his face.

Robin is inches from lights out.

John’s young Margaret (Faith Delaney) brings our antihero to a far flung place where he meets holistic shaman Brigid (Jodie Comer ) and a poetic leper (Murray Bartlett ) who befriends Robin.

Despite this motley crew on a remote island, there is not much to go with here. Grizzled Jackman, wincing in pain, gives a lot of pensive far away looks and glances of regret. The same goes for melancholic Brigid and the waif-like Margaret. No one talks all that much. There is a bit of tale telling around a bonfire.

Robin believes he is a marked man and time, or rather, life is short. Jackman is a cross between Mel Gibson in “Mad Max” and a sour Santa Claus. 

The film is short on development and dialogue. 

Monosyllables and gory guts carry the day. One can see that Robin Hood is a kind of mercenary who feels the weight of mortality. But how does he feel? What does he care about? 

We are left in the dark. 

There are only founts of blood, some mystical blood taking, buffalo innards, offal, and frequent grunting. 

There is no mead pouring here, there is no abundant banquet or fencing ballet by Errol Flynn.

Sherwood Forest is nowhere to be found. Here the episodes are more in keeping with “The Last Temptation of Christ”. Metal thorns, dripping blood and loss are in abundance.

Perhaps it is a sign of the times. Those expecting a perfectly curled mustache followed by an artful spin will be disappointed by this minimalist film, but if you are in the small band that enjoy your socialism as brutal and savage as an MMA fight, the carnage awaits. 

Write Ian at ianfree1@icloud.com

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