death of robin hood
Directed by Michael Sarnosky
Written by Michael Sarnosky based on the anonymous ballad “The Death of Robin Hood”
Starring Hugh Jackman, Jodie Comer, Bill Skarsgard
Classification 14A; 122 minutes
Released in theaters on June 19th
Hugh Jackman in “The Death of Robin Hood.” Jackman in the title role is a godsend, writes Barry Hertz.Supplied
If every generation could see the Robin Hood they deserve on screen, what does it say about the 2020s that our version of history’s favorite outlaw has a thirst for violence rivaled only by Jason Voorhees and an existential outlook so grim that it would make Arthur Schopenhauer, “the greatest pessimist in the history of philosophy,” look like a sunny daydreamer? I’m not sure I want to know the answer, even though Michael Sarnosky’s The Death of Robin Hood forces viewers to ponder that question for two hours, sometimes thoughtful and sometimes horrifyingly gory.
While Sarnosky’s feature directorial debut, the 2021 Nicolas Cage drama Pig, began by focusing on an outcast contented with his own ways before plunging the antihero into a dark cycle of over-the-top violence, Sarnoski’s new film is something of a reverse remix, starting with extreme bloodshed before settling into something tamer and more digestible.
Sarnosky begins by introducing the title character, played by Hugh Jackman, cracked and weathered, as he travels through Northern Ireland in the mid-1200s, slaughtering people. This Robin Hood looks more like Jackman’s ferocious X-Man Logan than, say, Kevin Costner’s Prince of Thieves, not to mention Cary Elwes’ man in tights from the Mel Brooks-era Nottingham era. Called into a game of revenge by the not-so-jolly estranged Little John (Bill Skarsgård), the old and new Robins think little of slicing an enemy’s hand open or attacking a child’s skull with his archery skills.
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Much of The Death of Robin Hood’s first act is as difficult to watch as it is to swallow, directed with the grim determination of a filmmaker who seems to revel in unpleasantness, as if he were smearing dirt on the lens. Perhaps this is an active rebellion against the big studio cleansing of horror that Sarnoski was forced to produce with A Quiet Place: Day One. Or maybe the director simply saw Robert Eggers’ equally gory 2022 drama The Northman and thought it was just child’s play.
In any case, Sarnosky reached a point relatively early in his career when he felt he had to come up with a scene in which Little John spectacularly rips the jaws out of his enemies’ mouths.
But once the blood dries up and the bones are buried, the film settles into a more contemplative, if not outright emotionally or narratively provocative pace. Wounded and dying, Robin finds himself confined to an isolated sanctuary, where he is cared for physically by the angelic and kind Sister Brigid (Jodie Comer) and healed, or at least challenged, spiritually by a local leper (Murray Bartlett). From there, the film becomes a sometimes thoughtful, sometimes thoughtful journey from villainy to Robin’s pseudo-relief, and the sheer shock of the first half of the film gradually wears off.
Jackman is no slouch when it comes to playing a man who considers the traces of the dead left behind, and is a godsend in the title role. Just as Cage’s sheer unpredictability elevated every moment of The Pig, Jackman’s eternally solid screen presence also prevents this version of Robin from becoming just another outlaw staring at his fate, even if his calmness is meant to emphasize his barely contained murderous intent.
Comer has her moments, but it’s Bartlett who makes the most of the supportive material – unrecognizable from his White Lotus Season 1 era, as he’s wrapped head-to-toe in bandages. As he guides Robin from grizzled villain to wise elder statesman, Bartlett comes to embody the spirit of Sarnosky’s painting, without succumbing to its darkness. As they say, take from the rich and give to the lepers.
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