In The Death of Robin Hood, Hugh Jackman plays Old Man Robin Hood in a movie that begins with intense violence followed by 90 minutes of what most people would describe as… not much. An introspective drama that intentionally refuses to give the audience wants, the movie boasts beautiful visuals, gritty realism, and an immersive lead performance–but ultimately doesn’t amount to anything of real substance.
My girlfriend, not bound to writing 500 words about the Michael Sarnoski picture, has a simpler review: “I hated it.”
Sarnoski draws you into his bleak but stunning world, set in windswept Northern Ireland, with a brutally violent introduction to the title character. Sarnoski wants to make it clear that this isn’t the hero we’ve all heard stories about. Things get even gnarlier as his grisled protagonist reunites with old friend Little John to rescue his wife and daughter; the sequence is not for the faint of heart.
But all that violence and gore is a prelude to the story Sarnoski really wants to tell, one of potential redemption or at least finding peace with yourself. The latter half of The Death of Robin Hood is near-meditative, though the threat of violence always linger. This is a harsh world and Robin, extracted from his day-to-day jaunts, is ever leary, his finger always twitching on the bowstring. Sarnoski takes pleasure in toying with expectations, inverting them to an almost frustrating degree.
My girlfriend, if asked, would probably say “to an incredibly frustrating degree.”
There’s a lot to appreciate here, but there’s a big difference between appreciating and enjoying. The Death of Robin Hood looks great; every scene is visually stunning. Jackman gives is a phenomenal performance, nearly unrecognizable under a snarled beard and carrying a viscous demeanor that puts Old Man Logan to shame. The unexpected direction Sarnoski takes his title character just isn’t as intriguing as it should be, however. We’ve seen character studies like this before, and as maddening as the film’s refusal to bow to convention can be, its bigger sin is that it isn’t as unique as Sarnoski thinks it is.
Surely artsier critics than me will find plenty to love, and admittedly I was engaged through much of this film, but let’s be real: once you realize where it’s headed, The Death of Robin Hood isn’t very satisfying (girlfriend: the opposite of satisfying). Sister Brigid (Jodie Comer, also quite good in this) spends her time bloodletting Robin; as you walk out of the theater, I felt much the same.
The Death of Robin Hood is a well-made drama that, in an effort to invert expectations, fails to deliver on any of them. As good as its elements are, it’s a movie I will never watch again nor can recommend to my faithful readers.
Maybe my girlfriend would watch it again. Who knows.
Review by Erik Samdahl. Erik is a marketing and technology executive by day, avid movie lover by night. He is a member of the Seattle Film Critics Society.
