Having given a terrific performance in Logan (aka the Death of Wolverine), Hugh Jackman feels typecast in this meandering medieval drama with much the same beats before the antihero’s lights go out. Based on the 17th-century ballad Robin Hood’s Death, writer-director Michael Sarnoski’s The Death of Robin Hood is set in 1247, following the ageing outlaw in his self-imposed exile.
A far cry from the folk myth that has developed, the real Robin is a ruthless killer who brutally slaughters children without a flicker of hesitation. Alongside an unrecognisable Bill Skarsgard as a bumpkin Little John, the pair commit atrocities so excessively violent that the action sequences make John Wick look mild in comparison.
After one incident leaves Robin for dead, he soon wakes up in a priory being nursed by Jodie Comer’s Sister Brigid, who may not be as truly pious as she seems. After a first act of unnecessarily over-the-top ultraviolence, the rest of the film largely consists of Hugh and Jodie whispering seemingly profound things to one another. Sadly, the themes around forgiveness, redemption, memory, and the power of story largely fail to land in this dreary misfire.
The leads’ decent acting, the costumes and Pat Scola’s stunning cinematography over the misty rugged landscapes of Northern Ireland are what save the film from the 1 star bin. Oscar-bait this certainly is, but I can’t imagine it’ll be remembered in a few weeks, let alone by the time awards season arrives. Disappointing.
The Death of Robin Hood is out now in UK cinemas.
