Cinema
Robin Hood
(PG', Plaza, Cannon Oxford Street)
Riding through the glen
Mark Amory
Robin Hood suddenly grew 'hot' last year; several versions were planned and this is the first, comparatively cheap one to arrive. Wherein lies the attraction; what do we hope for from a new version of the familiar tale? Perhaps it was seen as a nat- ural progression from the strip cartoons (Superman, Batman, Dick Tracy), an exhila- rating, mindless adventure without subtlety or characterisation, just goodies outwitting baddies and jumping off high buildings. That would save us from several fears: masses of period detail with authentic hal- berds and escutcheons and suchlike; exces- sive violence/pain justified as part of the same thing; relentless all-male merriment, a rugger XV waving hunks of meat and shaking with uninfectious laughter round a camp fire as they gaze adoringly at Robin, who jumps on to a barrel, flashes his eyes and putting one hand on his hip tells them all about the shameful lack of equality of opportunity in the 12th century.
The lights dimmed and there in the dawn were some stags, then a rabbit, fox, badger . . . Green! Robin is going to be at one with nature, preserving rare species of deer, foiling the Sheriff of Nottingham's plan to defoliate Sherwood Forest. All my suspicions were unfounded — indeed Robin flouts convention by not even wear- ing green. Instead we are off to a good start, a poacher chased by a line of beaters until he leaves the trees to face more wait- ing enemies — a man-hunt. He stumbles at someone's feet, the camera pans up to the laughing brown eyes of Robert Hode, Saxon nobleman, soon to be outlawed by the hated Normans. The script is adroit. It `Your turn to take the dog out.' juggles the familiar ingredients so that you never quite know what will happen next but are not cheated of your expectations: a bit of archery, the ambush of nasty knights in the forest, horses galloping under a lower- ing portcullis and leaping off a rising draw- bridge, a raid on the castle to rescue Maid Marian from marriage to a beast.
There are ingenious new touches. Robin, for instance, is shown as depending for his safety on his popularity with the people who would otherwise give away the where- abouts of his cave (also new), so he is forced to give a good percentage of what he robs from the rich to the well-informed poor. A style of dialogue has been found that is neither irritating nor absurd. When Robin meets Little John on the traditional tree lying across a river, he challenges with `How are you at walking backwards?' and is answered by the big man, 'I've never had to try . . . short-arse'.
But it all goes wrong, or not enough goes right, though not really for the foreseen reasons. No species of pine is shown as there was none here in 1195 but who's to notice? Only vegetable dyes were used but that was their problem. The only authentic- ity I spotted was a lot of perfectly accept- able mud. The Sheriff of Nottingham, enjoyable while he stuck to suave evil, developed doubts and so spoiled his last duel. Will Scarlet did laugh all the time and often in close-up at the beginning but he calmed down and indeed became pensive. Sex is minimal and violence is fun except for literally one shot when we examine someone's eye-sockets too closely; we had taken the point that he had been tortured from a more comfortable distance. These, however, are mere blemishes.
What matters more is that it all looks depressing. The sun is rising in the first shot but never seems to come out until the end. Perhaps the idea is that the very ele- ments share these hard times; or perhaps they were unlucky with the weather. The result is a greeny-blue haze and some unhealthy complexions. More serious is the competent cast. 'A truly international line- up' destroys the justified theme of colonial oppression with a variety of accents. Edward Fox as King John speaks with such strangulated distaste that you fear for his larynx, but he gives the film a much-needed lift in his one brief scene. Beautiful Uma Thurman acts with one eyebrow only, like Roger Moore. Perhaps a crackling star per- formance would have supplied the zest that seems lacking. Patrick Bergin too is 'hot' but I found him, like most of the youngish male stars of the moment, including Kevin Costner, the next Robin, a competent bore. Raising the money must have been easy. In What Makes Sammy Run by Budd Schulberg a producer says 'Tracy. Dietrich. The Titanic. Need I say more?' Read, `Bergin. Hood. We'll open first.' But there was a bit more to be said.
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