In my imagination, director Ridley Scott watched the classic Errol Flynn Robin Hood as a boy and sat there with his arms folded, considering a tantrum.
“That is wrong! wrong! wrong!” little Ridley fulminated, his beanie askew. “The dialect is wrong, the politics are wrong, and men did not wear tights!”
At that moment, he vowed to one day make a serious, grown-up, historically accurate version of Robin Hood.
And damned if that’s not exactly what he did.
To say that Scott managed to zap all the fun out of the endearing folkloric hero would be a bit extreme.
You just can’t go wrong Little John, Maid Marion, and Friar Tuck. But he comes pretty darn close.
For starters, he cast Russell Crowe as Robin Hood. Crowe definitely has that leader of men thing down, but he is not light on his feet, his eyes are more suited for smoldering than twinkling, and—how can I put this gently?—he’s too damn old to play Robin. Especially when you consider that this movie is prequel of...