Review of The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) by Anthony B — 08 Aug 2012

I dragged Hue along to a special cinema screening of this a couple of months ago. The screen wasn't huge, the cinema wasn't crowded, the print was scratchy, the frame was initially misaligned, the sound was tinny and distant. Hue started guffawing when Robin Hood and Will Scarlett made their initial entrance in their flamboyantly fabulous green and red stockings, and kept chuckling at the hammy acting throughout, and the consistent tendency of the merry men to laugh heartily at the smallest, silliest things. After the film, I asked her to guess in which year the film had been released. "Umm...1983?" she responded, quite seriously. Hmmm... Granted SOME films of the 80s might look as dated as 1938's "The Adventures of Robin Hood", but not many films of the 80s - or any other era - keep defining "classic" as well as this one.

It IS dated in so many ways, granted - the theatrical overacting, the juvenile pauses after every joke, the circus-style stunt-work, the staginess of the sets and the static-ness of the camera, the ridiculous of the tights... Yet I wouldn't want it any other way. The film defines the best production standards of its era, and makes no apologies for its OTT excesses. Yet so much more than that, if you peel off the high-camp, old-fashioned sheen from this film, its core is one of the most exuberant and exhilarating adventure stories of all time. The scripting is simple and tight and all it needs to be, more beautifully structured and flab-free than any other filmed version of the tale (except maybe the Disney version), the theme (the downtrodden masses rising up against greedy tyranny) has been told in many stories before and since but no less socially relevant today. The dialogue can be as brilliant ("Why, you speak treason!!!/"Fluently.") as it is gloriously corny. Individual scenes have resonated in my memories for more than three decades: the archery tournament, the escape from the noose, the Little John rumble, and especially Robin's jaunty entry to the castle hall carrying a deer over his shoulders.

Mike Curtiz and his editor keep the pedal to the medal beautifully throughout, keeping things so zippy and high-spirited that the overwhelming silliness is not only forgiven - it's welcomed. They are aided by a rousing score that surely must've influenced John Williams decades later - and by the exceptional casting. Rains is perfectly spoiled and bitchy-campy as Prince John, Hale can belly-laugh like nobody's business and DeHavilland is smoking hot-lovely, switching between demure and gagging-for-it with poise and grace. Basil Rathbone glowers in the right places, and parries in the wrong places - his final duel with Robin is STILL a highlight of cinematic action-choreography.

Yet above them all is Errol Flynn. Owning every second he's on screen, exuding charisma and confidence and a big bulge in his green tights, Flynn buckles a swash like no one, before or since. He's robust and athletic in the action bits, impudent and charming opposite Marion and arrogant and brazen opposite the bad guys. He might not have set the template for the romantic action hero, but he set a standard that millions of wannabes have never bettered. And he set this standard in a film that has come to exemplify the Robin Hood myth, knocking down all pretenders. Hundreds of versions of the tale have come and gone, some great fun (Disney, Costner), some not (Crowe, Bergin). But this film is not just A classic, it's THE classic. Even if it wasn't made in 1983...