By George Bate
After seemingly countless adaptations of Robin Hood, what new spin on the legendary outlaw could anyone possibly conjure up? Pig and A Quiet Place: Day One director Michael Sarnoski proves that there are arrows yet unreleased from Robin Hood’s quiver in a brutal, bleak, bold, and brooding reimagining of a classic tale.
The Death of Robin Hood finds its titular character, played by Hugh Jackman, grappling with a life of crime and murder in his later years. After a scheme with his old friend Little John (Bill Skarsgård) goes badly wrong and leaves him gravely injured, Robin seeks refuge at a priory, where he is treated by a mysterious woman named Sister Brigid (Jodie Comer) who reportedly has healing properties. Under the prioress’ care, Robin develops unexpected connections and reckons with the cost of violence.
Sarnoski returns to the solemn character study work that made Pig such an excellent film after slightly miscalculating with A Quiet Place: Day One. The Death of Robin Hood overwhelmingly lives up to its tagline, “He was no hero,” within its disturbing first few moments all the way until its hard-hitting conclusion. The Robin Hood that Sarnoski conceptualizes and Jackman brings to life is a far cry from the green tights-wearing hero dancing around in the woods alongside his Merry Men. This Robin Hood is plagued by the juxtaposition between the legends about him and the horrors of his actions. This is a Robin Hood who, on a number occasions, mentions that he has slaughtered more children than he can remember in his lifetime and appears unshaken when taking people’s lives in the most cold and calculated of ways.
Jackman presents himself as a grizzled older man, hardened by years of committing and withstanding violence. Rarely ever smiling and speaking only when necessary, his Robin Hood has messy, long white hair and a Dumbledore-esque beard, at times making him appear more monster than man.
Sarnoski does not flinch in portraying Robin Hood as the antithesis of hero. The outlaw engages in horrifying acts of violence, sits idly by as his friend kills another man over a piece of bread, and begins the movie by piercing a blade through the head of a child. It’s through this inversion of the Robin Hood character that The Death of Robin Hood arrives on a point of novelty and reinvents a legend we all know inside and out.
Alongside a transformative and almost unrecognizable Bill Skarsgård as Little John, Jackman drives the first act of Sarnoski’s film forward with ferocity and brutality. The 13th century that the two men live in is unkind and dangerous – anyone and everyone can and probably will try to kill you, sometimes for no reason at all. A first act that captures the ruthlessness of the world in which it takes place in makes for compelling, at times wincing viewing before the film makes a major pivot.
The Death of Robin Hood slows down considerably upon entering into its second act. The proceeding film takes place exclusively on a barren island, which houses a priory led by Jodie Comer’s Sister Brigid. Sarnoski trades the frenetic cruelty of the first act for a more peaceful, meditative middle that teeters on being too laborious for its own good.
Fortunately, as Robin slowly recovers from his injuries, the film throws in a number of compelling elements that add thrust to the narrative. These elements come in the form of Little Margaret (Faith Delaney) and Arthur (Noah Jupe), a young girl and man respectively who make their way onto the island. Robin steadily builds a close bond with Little Margaret, who is the daughter of Little John, while he suspects that Arthur has an insidious reason for being on the island.
Through Little Margaret and Arthur, The Death of Robin Hood explores the possibility of redemption and the never-ending cycle of violence. Sarnoski exercises restraint in not giving Robin Hood a straightforward road to redemption, which would feel unearned given the atrocities he has committed over his lifetime. Instead, it slowly becomes clear that Robin Hood’s journey is less about redemption and more about reevaluation and remorse. Can someone who has committed such atrocities be given grace? Does he deserve a second chance? Is remorse the cost to receive redemption? All of these are just some of the moral questions that Sarnoski poses to the audience about his film’s lead character.
Sarnoski further turns the story of Robin Hood on its head through the clever integration and reinvention of various aspects of the Robin Hood legend. In doing so, the filmmaker ensures that his movie doesn’t feel entirely unlike other Robin Hood stories, although those expecting a story about an honorable outlaw robbing the rich and giving to the poor should adjust their expectations before heading into this one.
Not just because both films star Hugh Jackman (although this certainly plays a role), The Death of Robin Hood bears an uncanny resemblance to Logan. In fact, The Death of Robin Hood does for Robin Hood what Logan did for Wolverine. Both films reconceptualize their protagonist as a deeply flawed figure grappling with their violent pasts and the consequences of the actions they made. Both protagonists grow close to a young girl and uncover new dimensions of themselves through this unexpected bond. And, without giving too much away (even though one can predict the film’s ending from its title), both films resolve in similar fashion.
The Death of Robin Hood may not pack the emotional gut punch of Logan, in part due to the fact that that film concluded nearly 20 years of Hugh Jackman playing that character, but it nonetheless proves emotionally stirring, especially in its final act. Superb supporting performances from Murray Bartlett as a leper and the aforementioned Noah Jupe give weight to Robin’s journey of introspection. Meanwhile, Jackman overwhelmingly succeeds in bringing incredible anguish, cruelty, and unexpected warmth to what amounts to cinema’s most complex depiction of Robin Hood to date.
VERDICT: 7/10
The Death of Robin Hood does for Robin Hood what Logan did for Wolverine. Filmmaker Michael Sarnoski’s bold reimagining of the legendary outlaw is a brutal, brooding, bleak, and slow (at times too slow) character study that reconceptualizes Robin Hood as a morally fractured figure, rather than a hero. Hugh Jackman brings incredible anguish, cruelty, and unexpected warmth to cinema’s most complex depiction of Robin Hood to date in a film that slows down too much in its second act, while excelling in its subversive exploration of violence, redemption, and remorse.