Directed By Michael Sarnoski

Starring – Hugh Jackman, Jodie Comer, Bill Skarsgard

The Plot – Grappling with his past after a life of crime and murder, Robin Hood (Jackman) finds himself gravely injured after a battle he thought would be his last. In the hands of a mysterious woman (Comer), he is offered a chance at salvation.

Rated R for strong bloody violence

The Death of Robin Hood | Official Trailer HD | A24

POSITIVES

Sarnoski is no stranger to subverting the expectations of the audience, as his previous films, A Quiet Place: Day One and Pig, both deviate on successfully proven formulas that surmise something freshly invigorating to the integrity of the exploration and corresponding world-building, and with The Death of Robin Hood enabling a grizzly and gruesomely unforgiving side to the man known for taking from the rich and giving to the poor, every single defining characteristic about our hero’s lore is sacrificed for a manifestation that is unidentifiable in the most compelling ways conceivable, made all the more entrancing by a physically committed and disappearing turn from Hugh Jackman, who once again taps into the weathered resiliency of his career-defining turn in 2017’s Logan. From the opening scene of the movie, Sarnoski makes no reservations about his titular antihero being a beast of a new breed all together, both with the vitriolic rage of his demeanor articulating a ferocity that makes him a dangerous aggressor, but also his capability as a skilled marksmen, which helps to unload some gruesomely penetrating carnage candy in the form of revolting imagery that earns every square inch of its expressive R-rating. Robin himself isn’t necessarily a bad man, as the air of all of his actions are very much justifiable, it’s just that every preconceived notion about his honorable intentions are merely just folklore in the fantastically articulated bigger picture of this bleakly desolated side of Northern Ireland, a ruggedly dangerous primary setting that Michael utilizes to a limitless degree with his devastating direction, in order to immerse audiences in the elements of the environment that seem to influence Robin’s rigged resiliency and protected internal disconnect from those he comes into direct contact with. While Sarnoski has always been a visionary with a keen eye for damp details that effectively conjure this moodily stuffy atmosphere, what he’s mastering here simply takes his talents to a whole other level, not only with a complimenting correspondence of on-site filming locations and mesmerizing cinematography from longtime Sarnoski collaborator, Pat Scola, but also captivatingly articulate sound designs conveying the kind of isolated disposition of weatherly elements clamping down humbly on those forced to endure them. For some, the naturally lighted corridors evoking enveloping darkness might make it difficult to properly distinguish just what’s transpiring in bouts of dramatic tension between two parties invested in a blood battle for survival, but there’s a decaying decadence to the thirteenth century established setting that breeds an essence of gothic grandeur to Scola’s spellbinding scenery, attaining authenticity in the form of naturally untouched environments, all the while pursuing these characters with the kinds of claustrophobic captivity for camera placement, that bottles as much tension and riveting suspense for the audience, during some of the most commandingly urgent sequences of the entire movie. Sarnoski’s talents aren’t just limited to the lens, however, as he pulls double duty penning the long-form exploration of this mystifying protagonist, within the confines of challengingly complex thematic impulses pertaining to the burden of violence, the reckoning of legacy, and the search for peaceful grace at the end of a bloody life. While the on-the-nose title of the movie all but gives away the intended destination of where this character arc is intentionally headed, Sarnoski is more inspired by the mileage of the journey to get there, particularly while incorporating faith as the means to evoke recollection in the many ghosts that hang overhead in Robin’s foggily frazzled history, and while Robin is irreplaceably the firmly cemented protagonist that the engagement requires, surprisingly, the most endearing arc of the movie, at least for me, pertained to Jodie Comer’s influential turn as Sister Brigid, an enamoring exploration on the difficulties of maintaining the kind of faith that feels tethered by her own magnifying yearnings for human connection, that serve directly as a result of her newfound dynamic with Robin. Because of such, we not only come to appreciate two internally conflicted characters at the clashing crossroads of their respective-but-shareable grief, but in the form of Brigid some stirringly scintillating surprises during the second half that help to appraise legitimately meaningful stakes during a period when the wear and tear of a two hour runtime begins to show itself in the extensive exploits of Sarnoski’s deliberately sauntered pacing, requiring each of his decorated leads to work overtime in capitalizing on the dramatic heft that continuously hangs overhead throughout the engagement. As a result, Jackman and Comer shine the brightest during the most dire circumstances of their respective tandem, with Jackman’s intensely commanding stoicism during pensive gazes masking the agony and anguish of the unrelenting ghosts of Robin’s haunting past, and Comer elevating her thankless outpouring of a limited opportunity in the script with a tender trepidation in vulnerability that feels all the more empathetic with the Earth-shattering revelations that her character endures during the film’s second half, allowing her to tap into the kinds of dramatic dependency that have made her a ferocious force to be reckoned with in recent years. Each of their heavyweight performances truly tap into the humanity and morality of the characters without compromising the nobility of the material, and though Jackman forgoes familiarity to envelope himself visually in the transformation, it’s the natural nuance and gravitational pull that he lends to portrayal that keeps us from ever losing sight of his capability to capitalize compellingly on an invested audience, leveling us humbly with one of the very best performances of a career stacked with award-worthy credibility.

NEGATIVES

While I myself found The Death of Robin Hood to be a very uniquely gratifying experience, I would be naive to think that Sarnoski’s execution will effectively cater to everyone equally, especially in the confines of aforementioned deliberate pacing schemes for storytelling that undeniably makes this feel, for better or worse, every square inch of this two hour runtime. After an entertainingly enthralling opening act that uncorked some of the most unapologetically violent sequences of the year for my enticement, the second act sedates itself with a couple of prolonged scenes that not only wore heavily on the withering investment that I had to this story, but also eviscerated any semblance of urgency in the inevitability of conflict that the movie previously attained for itself, leaving the movie’s momentum immediately halted by a spontaneous shift in scenery that beneficially might introduce us to Sister Brigid, but doesn’t feel as excitingly enticing as Robin Hood braving the elements of environment that felt so unpredictable during that opening act. Even when the film evolves to the third act climax, some unforeseen developments quite noticeably increase the sequencing of the storytelling, in ways that once again had me eagerly anticipating where this inevitable confrontation was angling from, so it leaves this second act feeling like the sacrificial sagging in the consistency of the storytelling, with far too much time spent reveling in the quieter moments of what’s transpiring. On top of some pacing issues, I found the sound mixing during the opening act of the movie to be quite intrusive on attaining a decoding grasp on the thickness of some Irish accents, leaving many of the initial conversations between Robin and Little John lacking the kind of connective transparency that continuously kept me at eye level with each of the characters. Even in an auditorium involving some of the best sound technology that money can buy, the overriding thickness of environmental elements, while authentically articulated, drowned out the meagerness of the dialogue in ways that made the interactions a hurdle to continuously clear, and while I’m always someone who preaches the theater experience over at-home, the availability of television subtitles feels like it caters more exclusively to the comforts of home, especially with the availability of rewinding capably in the palm of your hand, in case you’re someone who missed one, two, or even fourteen sentences of vital dialogue, like me. Finally, while I found the extensive journey of Robin’s arc to be a refreshing deviation on the depths of my preconceived expectations with the property, I did find the emotionality of the ending to fall a little flat in its most defining moments, particularly as a result of some character motivations and unforeseen dream sequences that left me with a bit more pressing questions than resolving answers. Considering the script paints an array of possible outcomes for Robin’s clash with inevitability, the chosen route it expressively utilizes, while believable of the epiphany of the character, isn’t the most satisfying resolution alongside the abruptness of its afterthought of an ending, leaving little in the way of connectivity for profoundness reaching for a sentimentality that it didn’t quite earn in an otherwise breathlessly grueling world.

OVERALL
The Death of Robin Hood is a bleakly grave and moodily gloomy revisionist history of a popularized myth, involving a violent examination of redemption and legacy, as seen through the eyes of a vengeful vigilante who mutually exploits the rich and poor where he sees fit. While Michael Sarnoski’s poetically meditated approach has his audience feeling the sacrificial sting of a slowly sauntering two-hour runtime, there’s still enough barbarically brutal bloodshed, captivating filmmaking, and prominent performances eliciting a freshly enticing take on a familiar folklore, and one in which it takes aim at finding closure in the desolation of devastation among its many restless ghosts.

My Grade: 7.4 or B-