Pretty, Violent, and Little Else

Michael Sarnoski’s The Death of Robin Hood is an exceptionally violent revisionist telling of the final days of Robin Hood (Hugh Jackman) and Little John (Bill Skarsgård). Distributed by A24, the movie is filled with beautiful cinematography and a performance by Hugh Jackman unlike anything he’s done lately. There is a somewhat intriguing thread about how stories and legends transform over time, but the characters don’t offer enough depth to fully connect with their struggles. The movie, ultimately, falls flat by its conclusion.

It all starts off on the wrong foot. An old and well-scarred man sits alone in the forest when a young woman approaches him. A little monologue ensues about how the tales of Robin Hood and his great generosity are unfounded, and that the man would actually kill her without remorse should she give him reason. When she gives him a reason, he does exactly that. The coldness of the opening wrongfoots Robin’s potential for growth.

Letting all of the movie’s action loose at the very beginning is a sin.

It also sets an odd pace. From here, Robin Hood is suddenly reunited with John, now going by the name Edward. Their dialogue is unclear, both on account of their accents and vague dialogue, and it’s hard to tell, given the setup, about how stories aren’t necessarily always true, how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other, and whether Edward’s story about his wife and their farm is even true. As the next several sequences proceed, there’s a lot of confusion in the air. And no clear plot or long-term purpose ever develops out of it.

The best part of the movie comes and goes in this second act. A very violent set of fights takes place where arrows fly straight through eye sockets, people are brutalized by clubs and maces, and limbs are torn apart right on camera. It’s visceral, well-choreographed and shot, and further sets The Death of Robin Hood up for failure, because you spend the rest of the movie anticipating another battle at least nearly as bloody that never comes.

Letting all of the movie’s action loose at the very beginning and then offering nary a drop for the rest of the over-extended runtime is a sin. It makes the already ill-conceived ending that much more deflating. The extremity of the movie’s first portion is not met with the kind of catharsis necessary to relieve the tension of its brutality and bleakness.

The ideas are all interesting, but they’re mostly left half-baked.

Even though his Robin Hood doesn’t plunder the depths of his character as deeply as The Death of Robin Hood thinks it does, Hugh Jackman is a thrill to watch as an aging warrior. He plays the bandit with such an uprightness that even as his age and wounds weigh on him, he never bends.

In combat, this is a huge asset, because the choreography isn’t hindered by his inability; only his deftness is. In his contemplative second half, however, it leads to a stubbornness that almost works for the character, until a dismal ending leaves a bad taste in your mouth over what lessons were and weren’t learned. 

Jodie Comer acts as Jackman’s main foil, Sister Brigid, who tends to Robin’s wounds and somewhat challenges his notion of what it means to protect the innocent. Comer is always a pleasant presence on-screen, but her character is even more underbaked than Jackman’s. Especially in the final act, as truths are revealed and decisions are made, she is reduced to sudden passivity and at the whim of Robin’s choices. Noah Jupe is also unfortunately underutilized, even in his smaller role.

The Death of Robin Hood feels like a movie built on a vibe instead of a vision.

The most fascinating character in The Death of Robin Hood is The Leper. His rags are a splendid work of costuming, and his appearances are among the more atmospheric moments, always bringing an ominous air with him. At least, until he reveals more about himself and his dedication to the other patients under Brigid’s care. Then a soft spot grows for him. It’s only a shame that what good he brings to Robin’s life is squandered by the movie’s bizarre choice of ending.

The Death of Robin Hood feels like a movie built on a vibe instead of a vision. It’s a good vibe, to be sure. It’s reminiscent of similar A24 titles without being a mere duplicate. Hazy atmospheres are juxtaposed by loving environments, while the editing and camera angles add to the know-it-when-you-see-it indie movie feeling. But the movie struggles to get its point of view across. Even as it dictates exactly what it wants audiences to consider while watching, the movie doesn’t do enough to show the mercurial nature of legend on-screen.

There are plenty of entertaining moments throughout The Death of Robin Hood, and this mode of Hugh Jackman is a treat to see amid the too-brief hyper-violent action scenes. But as the movie slows down, it loses its momentum and its way, ending up basically nowhere.

The Death of Robin Hood is now in theaters everywhere.