The latest medieval movie has arrived, offering a dark and thoughtful new take on England’s most famous outlaw. In this review, Danièle Cybulskie explores how The Death of Robin Hood balances Hollywood’s familiar vision of the Middle Ages with a surprisingly deep appreciation for medieval storytelling and values.
By Danièle Cybulskie
Yes, I went to see it. Yes, I was trepidatious. But I figure if I’m woman enough to plead a case in public, I need to be woman enough to see it through. I will admit to laughing aloud when I noticed my seat was “H8” – after all, I’m a historian. I’m ready to hate all medieval movies, right? Actually, what I’m hoping for is always something with depth, good storytelling, solid performances, and a real love for the Middle Ages. And in the end, that is what I found.
The central conceit of the movie is that Robin Hood is a bad, bad man. It’s a little paradoxical: he’s slaughtered so many people that half of England is out for revenge, and yet he’s somehow being renowned as a hero. But it’s fiction: this is the world, so these are the rules. Fair enough.
Hugh Jackman in The Death of Robin Hood
The marketing materials for the movie don’t shy away from comparisons with Logan, and the first few scenes of the movie don’t pull us too far from comparison either: here is the weary, battle-scarred man who throws himself into danger – ostensibly to help someone, but truly because he’s tired of life, not sure he’s good at anything else, and hoping that this time, he’ll actually die. The violence here is truly gruesome, horrific, stomach-churning. There’s a brutal savagery that could be – and probably is meant to be – read as specific to these characters, but (like The Northman) will doubtless be read by viewers as “sadistic violence is just how it was back then.” (Although I found myself wondering: is it sadism if you don’t enjoy it? Or is it just killing people the hard way?) But I submit: is John Wick killing someone with a pencil emblematic of modern life?
This early scene of hyperviolence (to the point of impracticality) is what we expect from medieval movies, what we see in the trailers, and what I feared would dictate the rest of the movie.
To my vast relief, it doesn’t.
Instead, we get the humanity I was so desperately hoping for.
It’s clear that writer/director Michael Sarnoski has read some of the medieval Robin Hood stories with depth, love, and consideration. Here is reference to Robin Hood and the Potter, The Death of Robin Hood, and even The Consolation of Philosophy. The early Robin Hood stories often don’t directly engage with royal politics, and neither does the film. But here are characters who consider their lives, and the meanings of those lives, in relation to others, the past, and the greater context of the universe. In other words: the feel of the characters is true to the medieval. Sarnoski gives space to his actors to breathe, and they rise to the occasion. Each one carries the weight of backstory without it overbalancing the context of their present.
Jodie Comer in The Death of Robin Hood
Jodie Comer is, as ever, understatedly brilliant in her performance. Her choices walk the thoughtful tightrope of a character who could veer off into caricature in the hands of a lesser actor. We keep seeing her in medieval contexts – often carrying the weight of being the only significant female character – and she keeps bringing the complexity the period deserves.
Murray Bartlett is outstanding. His silences are a masterclass in why you don’t rush dialogue. Everything is there in the quiet – an especially fine feat considering the limitations inherent in his costume.
And hands down, this is Hugh Jackman’s finest work. His commitment to the character, his ability to leak emotion from a tough façade, and his ability to exude the sustained discomfort of an internal battle are essential to the film. We’ve just seen him as a brutal, senseless killer – why should we care what happens to him? It’s a difficult ask (especially under the shadow of Logan) and he delivers his best performance to date.
Now, for the inevitable question: is this “accurate” to the Middle Ages?
The short answer is no.
Here’s the long answer:
We’re in a strange time for medieval movies. Here, we have a complex – often beautiful – script that reflects the Middle Ages in a way that pays tribute to it: thoughtful, intelligent characters; close engagement with source material; a caring, human, and imaginative retelling. But we’ve become so used to the way Hollywood has showed us this dark, violent, muddy world that it’s become a Catch-22: to engage with the colours and the beautiful material culture (yes, even for peasants – listen to this coming week’s episode of The Medieval Podcast for just some of the research) of the real medieval world will make regular moviegoers believe it’s unrealistic. We’re so used to the fantasy that it’s the reality that risks being “unbelievable”.
So, although we’re told it’s 1247, the year is irrelevant. Visually, this is the shorthand Middle Ages. But I believe this is likely a deliberate choice in order to make the film get out of its own way. If you are willing to accept these parameters, you’ll find a lot more love for the Middle Ages here than meets the eye.
Yes, there is mud, blood, and drab colours. Yes, the curse of the Robin Hood accent continues. But, as a historian, I think we’re in a transitional period, and this movie is the next step in the right direction. I applaud A24 for engaging with the medieval past (in this, and in The Green Knight) in ways that reach back to the human core of in these stories, even if we can’t seem – yet – to trust people will accept the real, material world of the Middle Ages as real. (And yes, film budgets are also a thing.) I hope we may get there soon.
In the meantime, Sarnoski’s script is thoughtful, elegant, and heartfelt and it engages with some concepts that are timeless: can good things come from bad things? Can we be redeemed? Can we find a way to find the good in those things we would never, ever wish for?
This is the heart of the movie, and as such is very medieval.
Danièle Cybulskie is the bestselling author of five books, the creator and host ofThe Medieval Podcast. You can listen to her, read this review and more on her Patreon.
The latest medieval movie has arrived, offering a dark and thoughtful new take on England’s most famous outlaw. In this review, Danièle Cybulskie explores how The Death of Robin Hood balances Hollywood’s familiar vision of the Middle Ages with a surprisingly deep appreciation for medieval storytelling and values.
By Danièle Cybulskie
Yes, I went to see it. Yes, I was trepidatious. But I figure if I’m woman enough to plead a case in public, I need to be woman enough to see it through. I will admit to laughing aloud when I noticed my seat was “H8” – after all, I’m a historian. I’m ready to hate all medieval movies, right? Actually, what I’m hoping for is always something with depth, good storytelling, solid performances, and a real love for the Middle Ages. And in the end, that is what I found.
The central conceit of the movie is that Robin Hood is a bad, bad man. It’s a little paradoxical: he’s slaughtered so many people that half of England is out for revenge, and yet he’s somehow being renowned as a hero. But it’s fiction: this is the world, so these are the rules. Fair enough.
The marketing materials for the movie don’t shy away from comparisons with Logan, and the first few scenes of the movie don’t pull us too far from comparison either: here is the weary, battle-scarred man who throws himself into danger – ostensibly to help someone, but truly because he’s tired of life, not sure he’s good at anything else, and hoping that this time, he’ll actually die. The violence here is truly gruesome, horrific, stomach-churning. There’s a brutal savagery that could be – and probably is meant to be – read as specific to these characters, but (like The Northman) will doubtless be read by viewers as “sadistic violence is just how it was back then.” (Although I found myself wondering: is it sadism if you don’t enjoy it? Or is it just killing people the hard way?) But I submit: is John Wick killing someone with a pencil emblematic of modern life?
This early scene of hyperviolence (to the point of impracticality) is what we expect from medieval movies, what we see in the trailers, and what I feared would dictate the rest of the movie.
To my vast relief, it doesn’t.
Instead, we get the humanity I was so desperately hoping for.
It’s clear that writer/director Michael Sarnoski has read some of the medieval Robin Hood stories with depth, love, and consideration. Here is reference to Robin Hood and the Potter, The Death of Robin Hood, and even The Consolation of Philosophy. The early Robin Hood stories often don’t directly engage with royal politics, and neither does the film. But here are characters who consider their lives, and the meanings of those lives, in relation to others, the past, and the greater context of the universe. In other words: the feel of the characters is true to the medieval. Sarnoski gives space to his actors to breathe, and they rise to the occasion. Each one carries the weight of backstory without it overbalancing the context of their present.
Jodie Comer is, as ever, understatedly brilliant in her performance. Her choices walk the thoughtful tightrope of a character who could veer off into caricature in the hands of a lesser actor. We keep seeing her in medieval contexts – often carrying the weight of being the only significant female character – and she keeps bringing the complexity the period deserves.
Murray Bartlett is outstanding. His silences are a masterclass in why you don’t rush dialogue. Everything is there in the quiet – an especially fine feat considering the limitations inherent in his costume.
And hands down, this is Hugh Jackman’s finest work. His commitment to the character, his ability to leak emotion from a tough façade, and his ability to exude the sustained discomfort of an internal battle are essential to the film. We’ve just seen him as a brutal, senseless killer – why should we care what happens to him? It’s a difficult ask (especially under the shadow of Logan) and he delivers his best performance to date.
Now, for the inevitable question: is this “accurate” to the Middle Ages?
The short answer is no.
Here’s the long answer:
We’re in a strange time for medieval movies. Here, we have a complex – often beautiful – script that reflects the Middle Ages in a way that pays tribute to it: thoughtful, intelligent characters; close engagement with source material; a caring, human, and imaginative retelling. But we’ve become so used to the way Hollywood has showed us this dark, violent, muddy world that it’s become a Catch-22: to engage with the colours and the beautiful material culture (yes, even for peasants – listen to this coming week’s episode of The Medieval Podcast for just some of the research) of the real medieval world will make regular moviegoers believe it’s unrealistic. We’re so used to the fantasy that it’s the reality that risks being “unbelievable”.
So, although we’re told it’s 1247, the year is irrelevant. Visually, this is the shorthand Middle Ages. But I believe this is likely a deliberate choice in order to make the film get out of its own way. If you are willing to accept these parameters, you’ll find a lot more love for the Middle Ages here than meets the eye.
Yes, there is mud, blood, and drab colours. Yes, the curse of the Robin Hood accent continues. But, as a historian, I think we’re in a transitional period, and this movie is the next step in the right direction. I applaud A24 for engaging with the medieval past (in this, and in The Green Knight) in ways that reach back to the human core of in these stories, even if we can’t seem – yet – to trust people will accept the real, material world of the Middle Ages as real. (And yes, film budgets are also a thing.) I hope we may get there soon.
In the meantime, Sarnoski’s script is thoughtful, elegant, and heartfelt and it engages with some concepts that are timeless: can good things come from bad things? Can we be redeemed? Can we find a way to find the good in those things we would never, ever wish for?
This is the heart of the movie, and as such is very medieval.
Danièle Cybulskie is the bestselling author of five books, the creator and host of The Medieval Podcast. You can listen to her, read this review and more on her Patreon.
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