Growing up, I remember my dad really liked this film. He would tell me, whether I asked him or not, that stars Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone were both accomplished fencers, and as such, they had what may have been one of the greatest sword fights in cinematic history. That came largely from the fact both actors knew what they were doing. I will have more to say about that below, but I also recall that, when I did the AFI Challenge, I was somewhat surprised that The Adventures of Robin Hood was not included on the list. There was at least one more omission I found even more surprising, but I’ll get to that later in the Stacker Challenge. I mean, Errol Flynn is as much Robin Hood as Gregory Peck is Atticus Finch and Audrey Hepburn is Holly Golightly. Even when other actors have played those characters, they never quite got the same level of recognition, and any portrayal will be compared to that “ideal” casting. I mean, isn’t this film the way most people think of Robin Hood? There’s even a quick flash of Errol in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.
That said, before I go any further, I can’t think of a better place to say this, so I’ll say it here: the real Richard the Lion-Heart never returned to England as he does in so many of these films and stories, and as such, his kid brother John would go on to be one of the weakest kings in English history, one eventually forced to sign the Magna Carta. So, does Robin Hood exist in a universe where the Magna Carta never existed? Food for thought there…
However historically inaccurate this film may be, one thing it doesn’t do is waste time. Before five minutes have passed, onscreen narration has outlined the basic plot: Prince John (Claude Rains) has managed to take over England while his brother Richard (Ian Hunter) is off on Crusade. John takes it upon himself to appease the Norman barons at the expense of the Saxon everyone else. From there, Robin of Loxley (Flynn) forms his Merry Men and fights back against the oppressive taxation from Sherwood Forest. His band grows gradually, starting with Will Scarlet (Patric Knowles), and over time adding Much the Miller’s Son (Herbert Mundin), Little John (Alan Hale Sr, an actor who always made me do a double-take because he looks so much like his son the Skipper), and Friar Tuck (Eugene Pallette). When he isn’t winning over the heart of the king’s ward Maid Marion (Olivia de Havilland), he’s matching wits that dastardly mastermind, the real threat to the people of Sherwood, Sir Guy of Gisbourne (Rathbone).
Yeah, that’s right. Not the Sheriff of Nottingham. He’s in the film too, as played by Melville Cooper, but he’s basically a chubby fool. His one real contribution to the plot is he comes up with the golden arrow scheme. I’d say he’s comic relief, but this is a film where there are arguably more comedic characters than serious ones. As much as Sir Guy seems like a major threat, Robin and the Merry Men never take him as such. If anything, this is a film where the good guys seem to spend more time laughing at everything than stressed out. Little John and the others will trick Robin into getting into a sword fight with Friar Tuck, leaving out that Tuck is one of the deadliest men in the area, leading to Robin to steal Tuck’s mutton, the two fighting in a river, and everyone, Tuck included, having a good laugh about it when everything is resolved as Tuck joins the band. It’s that kind of film.
That’s actually rather similar to Little John’s recruitment. He and Robin have what is apparently a good natured sparring session, Robin gets dunked, and then everyone has a good laugh about it. No one has any hard feelings. Friar Tuck, Much, and Marion’s lady-in-waiting Bess (Una O’Connor, the campy comic relief for many of James Whale’s horror films) are all basically comedic characters, and even the more serious ones among the Merry Men are quick to have a laugh. The villains never seem all that formidable in the grand scheme of things, and arguably the only real advantage Sir Guy and Prince John seem to have is sheer numbers because their men never seem to be able to withstand much from Robin Hood and the Merry Men no matter how many of them he brings along. Sir Guy and Prince John are villains in the same vein as the antagonists designed to sell toys in 80s cartoons. It doesn’t matter what schemes Cobra Commander, Skeletor, or Sir Guy come up with: they will lose and look foolish each and every time. The biggest difference is Robin and the Merry Men can actually use lethal force against minions.
It’s that feeling of having a good time while fighting evil that permeates the film. Robin Hood never seems to break a sweat, even when he knows he’s walking into a trap. Even when he’s captured, he can and will escape. It makes for a very episodic sort of film as the plot is more a series of shorter stories strung together to tell the whole. But there is something else this film does that makes it stick out: it’s a very big sort of film.
By that, I mean that The Adventures of Robin Hood has an old fashioned, epic feel to it. This film came out in 1938, a full year before The Wizard of Oz, and just like The Wizard of Oz, this is a film in full Technicolor with rooms full of people in tights and period costumes (or what a 1930s movie studio figures is period costume) on massive sets. A banquet scene might have men carrying large serving platters, a falconer putting out live birds, musicians at least pretending to play their instruments, and dozens if not hundreds of men siting down to eat. This is an era before computers could make hundreds out of maybe three dozen. This was a room full of people on a set, all of them in costume, and given directions to create the appearance of a Medieval banquet. And that’s not getting into large scale swordfights and stunt work. Director Michael Curtiz would show similar large scale work with the likes of Casablanca and Yankee Doodle Dandy, and I’ll be getting to one of those later this year.
That said, none of that would matter if Robin himself was something of a dud. Fortunately, this is Errol Flynn at his swashbuckling best, and yes, that sword fight at the end with Rathbone is impressive. There are perhaps dozens of great sword fights on film, but the modern style of quicker editing and more frequent cuts means that following many such fights is a lot more difficult. It’s not so hard with Flynn and Rathbone, and the fight largely works until the end when Flynn simply stabs Rathbone in the gut and kills him, knocking him off a balcony. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen so many more explicit villain deaths, particularly given the limitations of 1938’s ability to show much of anything, but a bloodless poke to the torso doesn’t seem like much of a killing blow.
But in the end, Robin can have his Marion, King Richard can be ahistorically restored to his throne, and the surviving villains would be banished, and I suppose someone will just sign the Magna Carta eventually. Does it matter? Everyone in this England seems to be just enjoying life as it is.
NEXT: I’ll be sticking to 1938, but this time, it’ll be the first appearance of an Alfred Hitchcock film to this countdown. Be back soon for The Lady Vanishes.
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