Film Review: Robin Hood

Robin Hood. 148 minutes. Rated M. Directed by Ridley Scott. Written by Brian Helgeland.

Make no mistake. We are now entering Big Motion Picture territory. Robin Hood, arguably one of the most eagerly-awaited and heavily-publicised big picture epics of the year has finally hit the big screen. So, is it any good? Yes, of course it is. It's one of the masters of cinematic storytelling Ridley Scott (Alien, Blade Runner, Thelma & Louise, Gladiator), at the helm, after all. Is it Scott's best film to date? No it's not (that's, for my money, still Alien). Is it Russell Crowe's greatest performance? No, it certainly is not (that's A Beautiful Mind closely followed by Romper Stomper). And what's Cate like? She's as marvellous as you'd expect an actress of her calibre to be. And this is the key to Robin Hood's most significant failing: everything is exactly as you expect it to be – that, and nothing more.

It is 1199, and archer Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe) is a member of King Richard I's (The Lionheart) mighty army. When the King is killed in battle, Robin and his companions are freed to return home to England. Along the way, they discover that the King's Guard (charged with the safe return of the dead King's Crown) have been ambushed by the traitor Sir Godfrey (Mark Strong). After fighting to support their fellow Knights and wounding Godfrey in the process, Robin promises the mortally-wounded Sir Robert Loxley that he will honour his memory by returning his precious and unique sword to the dying knight's father Sir Walter (Max von Sydow) in Nottingham. Back in England, Richard's younger brother John (Oscar Isaac) is named the new King and the country is immediately plunged in chaos. Only the fearless Robin can empower the people to rise up and defeat the invading French forces.

Robin Hood is a serious, lead-footed and humourless film that lacks even one minute in its almost two and a half hour running time of genuine excitement. We anticipate nothing. And while the fine ensemble deliver excellent performances, the encyclopedic nature of Helgeland's (Green Zone, Mystic River) verbose screenplay constantly weighs them down with dialogue so entirely plot-driven and didactic, that not even the promise of light, or romance or personal conquest can shake the immense sense of foreboding that everything is going to play out precisely as we expect it to. And, almost without exception, it does.

Isaac is sensational as the tyrannical, juvenile King John and Strong is great as the evil, duplicitous Sir Godfrey. Von Sydow's spirited performance is all class, and Crowe plays Robin Hood with a great sense of nobility, humility, charity and charm. He belts along on horseback with the very best of them and his moments of wry humour are almost impossibly welcome. Regrettably, they are soon eradicated by yet more thundering hooves, clanging swords and bows and arrows. There's a ridiculous number of bows and arrows actually, which are photographed relentlessly from every possible angle.

With the peculiar exception of the last five minutes, Robin Hood is a film entirely lacking in irony, joy, intimacy or soul. Yes, it starts with a Big Battle (but nowhere near as big or as interesting as Gladiator's sensational opening sequence). It also almost ends with a Bigger Battle – but apart from some impressive aerial establishing shots of the French invasion, we're quickly back on the sand and in the water with yet more thundering hooves, clanging swords and whizzing arrows.

As it, relievedly, begins to wind up, its tone lightens and, for the first time, we sense a pulse – a heartbeat – a pure and restrained optimism and delight that has been chronically lacking from everything that has gone before. While England under the tumultuous reigns of King Richard and King John was quite obviously no fun whatsoever (expect, possibly, for them) – the result is a film that, somewhat perversely, is equally no fun whatsoever. None.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspapers Group and was published in the print edition of the Geraldton Guardian.