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| images courtesy of Arrow Video |
If I had to sum up the cinematic achievement that is Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, it would take me a mere two words. Astonishingly mediocre. Truly an amazing feat, considering this is still touted by many to be the best of the modern incarnations of Robin Hood that we’ve had to endure over the last 30-plus years. Russell Crowe and Taron Egerton both took a swipe at the part with similarly blah results. Is this story really that hard to tell? It’s one of the classic good-versus-evil archetypes, retold countless times. Even people who have never actually read the tales or saw the movies know of the exploits of Robin of Locksley. Is it because the story is so well known that the urge to “deconstruct” it manages to kill virtually any semblance of fun? Is that why, nearly 100 years later, Errol Flynn remains the gold standard by which all others are judged as pale imitators? Only you can decide.
The film opens with Robin of Locksley, played by an atrociously miscast Kevin Costner, breaking free from a prison. He offers his hand in exchange for another thief keeping his own. How noble. With the help of a Muslim Morgan Freeman, struggling to keep what I think is supposed to be a Middle Eastern accent, he returns home to find his father mutilated to death inside of a cage within the burned husk of his family castle. Knowing full well that the vile Sheriff of Nottingham was behind the plot, he vows vengeance, but first he must check in on his lady love. Enter Maid Marion, played by an underutilized Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. She looks the part but is never allowed to be anything more than a foil for Robin Hood, which is a damn shame considering her acting chops, and the fact that they take the time to set her up as someone capable of holding her own against Robin in a fight. But don’t bother about remembering that: The movie forgets it faster than we do.
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| images courtesy of Arrow Video |
When you think about it, the first act is not all that dissimilar from Battlefield Earth. A blue ribbon of effort for any piece of filmmaking. We get to experience the pain and anguish of a person we barely know, mourning the death of someone we just met as they were shuffled loose their mortal coil. When it only takes a movie roughly 20 minutes for me to not care, that’s pretty bad. The rest of the movie has the privilege of being made into a Best Picture-winning carbon copy roughly 9 years later in the form of Gladiator. Don’t believe me?
The rightful ruler of a kingdom is displaced by his evil successor. In the process, the main hero’s family is wiped out, which places him firmly on the path of vengeance. The hero winds up befriended by those who ordinarily would not welcome him. There’s a beautiful maid who is seen as the prize of this new evil ruler, but her heart inexplicably belongs to the hero. Eventually, after a fiery battle that sees the death of many comrades, there will be the inevitable one-on-one fight to the death between the hero and his adversary. Cue the Oscar-nominated Bryan Adams song. Or the Hans Zimmer score. Take your pick. I guess part of the reason these stories are timeless is because they are repeated ad nauseam.
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| images courtesy of Arrow Video |
With all that being said, I do have to give credit where it is due. When the Merry Men of Sherwood Forest do finally show up, there are some passages that pick up in terms of genuine rousing action and pacing. There are some chuckles here and there, one of which is completely unintentional when we get a "Big Character Reveal" from Christian Slater. But the real stars of the movie are Michael Kamen’s score, and Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham. Kamen’s music is nothing short of breathtaking. It’s become so iconic that it literally plays every time you see the Morgan Creek logo before a film. His score is rousing, fun, fantastical, romantic. Everything this movie tries and fails to be. Meanwhile, Alan Rickman seems to be the only person who actually knows what movie he’s in. His interpretation of the Sheriff is equal parts sadistic, bombastic, hysterical, sleazy, and wholly memorable. Without Rickman, this movie would have died on the vine, and along with the now classic song, “Everything I Do (I Do It For You),” Rickman’s performance emerges as one of the only great things spawned by this misfire.
The only other great thing I have to mention is the new 4K transfer from Arrow Video. Taken from the original negative, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves has never looked this good. Director Kevin Reynolds would go on to make much better movies, such as his take on The Count of Monte Cristo, the Biblical epic Risen, and even the mega-budget disasterpiece, Waterworld. This was only his third film, and the very green nature of his budding skills as a filmmaker show through all the clearly visible seams. With that being said, there are still stunning moments of visual splendor that managed to stop my critical brain dead in its tracks, just to soak up the beauty on display. But even the visual wizards at Arrow can’t save this movie’s script.
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| images courtesy of Arrow Video |
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves is not a disaster by any means, but it feels like one. When there’s so much clear talent on display, and so many great minds behind the scenes, it seems like we’re watching a film destined for greatness. So it’s almost a betrayal when it fails due to poor casting, British accents so shoddy they make Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta sound like Hugh Laurie, and a central performance of such dour self-seriousness that the mere presence of the title character drags the whole movie down a deep, dark hole from which it never escapes. Maybe one day we’ll get a Robin Hood movie on par with the greatness of Errol Flynn, or even the sly cunning of the animated Disney version, but Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves is not it, and it never was.
- Blake O. Kleiner