'The Death of Robin Hood' review: Hugh Jackman leads a thoughtful but sluggish reinvention of a folk legend

Courtesy of A24

---

Every few years, someone decides it’s time to put a new spin on Robin Hood. Whether it was Ridley Scott’s surprisingly mundane 2010 epic or the flashy, forgettable 2018 version starring Taron Egerton and Jamie Foxx, filmmakers continue returning to the legendary outlaw in search of a fresh angle. Writer-director Michael Sarnoski’s “The Death of Robin Hood” certainly has one. Rather than retell the familiar story of the heroic thief who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, Sarnoski strips away the mythology altogether, asking what remains when the legend fades and the man is forced to confront the reality of who he was.

This is not the swashbuckling Robin Hood many audiences will be expecting. There is little adventure, even less triumph, and almost no joy to be found in this grim, contemplative reimagining. Much like “The Green Knight” or “The Northman,” Sarnoski grounds the folklore in mud, blood, and mortality, transforming an iconic hero into something far more complicated and, at times, far less admirable.

Hugh Jackman leans fully into that approach. Bringing the same brooding intensity that has defined many of his most serious performances, Jackman plays Robin as a man haunted by the weight of his own reputation. He understands the mythology that surrounds him, but the film is far more interested in the damage left behind by that mythology than the accomplishments that created it. What if Robin Hood wasn’t the noble hero history remembers, but a violent man whose legend has obscured the trail of suffering he left in his wake? It’s a compelling question, and one that gives the film its strongest moments.

Unfortunately, Sarnoski’s execution rarely matches the strength of his ideas. The film moves at a deliberate pace that often borders on lethargic, lingering on long stretches of introspection without providing enough emotional momentum to sustain them. While the story eventually arrives at a moving destination, the journey there frequently feels more laborious than rewarding.

After a brutal confrontation leaves Robin seeking refuge at an isolated priory overseen by the compassionate Sister Brigid (Jodie Comer), the film settles into a meditation on guilt, redemption, and legacy. Robin begins caring for Margaret (Faith Delaney), the daughter of his longtime companion Little John, played by Bill Skarsgård in a performance that exchanges the character’s traditional charm for something far more volatile. At the same time, the arrival of a wounded young boy (Noah Jupe), scarred by a previous encounter with Robin and Little John, forces Robin to confront the consequences of his past actions.

These story threads offer fertile ground for examining how myths are created and sustained, particularly when those myths are built on selective memory. In many ways, “The Death of Robin Hood” feels less interested in Robin himself than in the stories people choose to believe about him. The film repeatedly asks whether legends reveal truth or simply bury it beneath generations of romanticized storytelling.

That thematic ambition is what makes the film so frustrating. Sarnoski is clearly reaching for something larger than a standard Robin Hood tale, using the character as a vehicle to explore how easily narratives become accepted as fact. In an era where perception often carries more weight than reality, there is a fascinating modern relevance buried within the film’s exploration of mythmaking and historical memory.

Yet the screenplay never fully develops those ideas beyond their initial promise. Time and again, the film introduces compelling concepts only to leave them underexplored. Even stylistic flourishes, including a late shift in aspect ratio, feel more self-conscious than meaningful. Rather than deepening the film’s emotional impact, they draw attention to themselves and reinforce the sense that the movie is more invested in its symbolism than its storytelling.

To Sarnoski’s credit, “The Death of Robin Hood” remains visually striking throughout.

Cinematographer Pat Scola captures the Northern Ireland countryside with a rugged beauty that perfectly complements the film’s mournful tone, while Jim Ghedi’s somber score quietly underscores the melancholy hanging over nearly every scene. The atmosphere is rich, immersive, and undeniably effective.

What ultimately holds the film back is that atmosphere alone cannot carry a story this introspective. For all its ambition, “The Death of Robin Hood” spends so much time deconstructing the legend that it occasionally forgets to give audiences a compelling reason to invest in the man beneath it. By the time the film arrives at the emotional reckoning promised by its title, it has finally discovered the depth and clarity it has been searching for all along. The destination is worthwhile. The road getting there, however, is considerably less rewarding.

Grade: C+

THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD is now playing in theaters.