A1 Movie Reviews

Ridley Scott, the director of the latest incarnation of the Robin Hood legend, has admitted to not caring for previous versions of the story. According to Mr. Scott, “The best, frankly, was Mel Brooks’ Men in Tights, because Cary Elwes was quite a comic.” A rather bizarre comment, especially considering that the aforementioned film marked the downward spiral of a once-great comedic director. But since he’s helmed projects ranging from Alien to Gladiator, you have to respect the man’s opinion. And, after seeing his version starring Russell Crowe, I must agree: Robin Hood: Men in Tights remains the better tale.

Audiences looking for a story about Robin Hood and his Merry Men sticking it to the Sheriff of Nottingham should search elsewhere. There’s almost no stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, and Sherwood Forest is barely mentioned. Instead, the movie depicts how Robin became the legendary outlaw, a decision that demonstrates a great deal of temerity on the part of the filmmakers. Did they actually watch the final cut and think the public would clamor for future adventures? Or perhaps they were simply aiming to pull a reverse Robin Hood by stealing from the masses and giving to themselves.

Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe) is an archer in the service of Richard the Lionheart (Danny Huston), a beloved king who’s drained England’s coffers for the ill-advised Third Crusade. Returning home after a decade with nothing to show, Richard’s army is sacking every castle along the way in an attempt to turn a profit. But when the king is unexpectedly killed, Robin and his pals Little John (Kevin Durand), Will Scarlet (Scott Grimes) and Allan A’Dayle (Alan Doyle) decide they’ve had enough of war. Making their way back to England, they encounter the scene of an ambush, and Robin promises a dying knight that he’ll return the man’s sword to his father. The man’s name: Sir Robert Loxley. His home: Nottingham.

Robin keeps his word and soon finds himself impersonating Sir Loxley at the request of the dead man’s father (Max Von Sydow). This doesn’t sit well with his widow, Lady Marion (Cate Blanchett), but it’s the only way to keep the land from passing into the hands of the crown upon the death of the elder Loxley.

Meanwhile, leadership of England passes to King John (Oscar Isaac), a wretched fellow who keeps a French mistress, hated his brother, disrespects his mother, and is friends with the even more wretched Sir Godfrey (Mark Strong), an Englishman secretly in league with the French. Godfrey’s goal is to stir up so much trouble between the crown and the nobles that civil war breaks out. Then, the French will sweep in and conquer the country.

One of the film’s major failings is trying to balance the small-scale story of an outlaw in the making with the much larger element of political maneuverings between rival nations. Either one would have worked fine on their own, but forcing them together creates a work that feels disjointed and clumsy. Braveheart managed to pull it off; Robin Hood does not.

Crowe plays Robin Longstride as the stoic hero, and, much like Maximus Decimus Meridius before him, he’s able to rally men to a noble cause simply by surviving a few near-death experiences and making one impassioned speech. While the actor doesn’t embarrass himself, it’s certainly one of his weaker roles to date. Much of this can be blamed on the disappointing script from Brian Helgeland and the rather underwhelming direction of Scott. This is especially evident during a subplot involving Longstride’s long-forgotten past, which is one of the most forgettable (and confusing) cinematic moments in recent memory.

Blanchett, in her role as Lady Marion Loxley, is easily the best thing about this wayward retelling. While audiences wisely expect that she’ll fall for the dour stranger who brings news of her husband’s death, she makes a great show of fighting off such feelings. She’s also filled with an inner strength that shines through in her performance, easily overshadowing those around her.

The role of Sir Godfrey oozes with movie villainy, the same kind demonstrated in Gladiator. In that film, Emperor Commodus (portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix sans crazy beard) is an incestuous madman who commits patricide, contemplates killing his young nephew, and renews the practice of bloody gladiatorial games. Godfrey comes from the same melodramatic stock with his facial scar, utter disdain for qualities such as honor, and a scene where he’s nearly bested in a fight by an old blind man (only to run him through from behind). Too bad there weren’t any train tracks in the 12th century. For his part, the versatile Mark Strong makes the best of the role, but the screenwriters have left him little room to maneuver.

We’re continually updated on the film’s ever-changing locations, but surely this wasn’t included for the benefit of American audiences. After all, does the average U.S. moviegoer (who’s probably only half paying attention while sending a message on their iPhone) really care that a ship is now located in the Thames Estuary?

And if the film is intended for a European audience, it’s certainly not aimed at the French. While King John of England is portrayed as dissolute and soft-headed, he’s a paragon of virtue compared to every Frenchman depicted in the film. They fall into one of three categories: murderous, treacherous, or greedy beyond belief. In one scene, various French soldiers vomit and stumble about in a drunken stupor while their comrades lock an entire village in a building and set it on fire (while laughing, I might add). Yeah, that should play real well in Paris (Paris, Texas perhaps). No, Scott must have been catering to his fellow countrymen in England, but I wonder how Brits will react to one of their most famous folk heroes being portrayed by an Aussie?

Speaking of differing nationalities, there’s been some discussion in the UK of Crowe’s accent for the film. It does wander a bit, especially in the early stages. I’ll even admit to having trouble understanding a line or two, as a twinge of Welsh or Irish occasionally snuck in and confounded my American ears. This inconsistency was brought to Crowe’s attention during an interview with BBC radio, and he responded by leaving the studio in a huff (at least he didn’t throw anything). In Crowe’s defense, it’s still a damn sight better than Kevin Costner’s utter lack of an accent in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.

The movie completely sinks itself in the final act with a rushed battle scene that’s included more out of habit than anything else. The French land on English soil in something straight out of Saving Private Ryan, and many of the shots are embarrassingly similar. And while watching women, children, and overweight holy men successfully fight off skilled French soldiers, I could only shake my head in mock amazement. It’s so simplistic and naïve that it plays out like the coloring book version of The Art of War.

The estimated budget for Robin Hood was $237 million, a figure that exceeds even Iron Man 2. For the sake of comparison, the following films could have been made for the price tag of this single bloated monstrosity: The Hurt Locker ($15 million), Inglourious Basterds ($70 million), The Blind Side ($29 million), District 9 ($30 million), Precious ($10 million), Up in the Air ($25 million), and Invictus ($50 million). And you’d still have $8 million left over for unlimited screenings of Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

(For other big screen adaptations of the Robin Hood legend, check out the selection at Amazon. We do receive a commission of you buy something, but any proceeds go right back into A1 Movie Reviews.)