Richard Crouse

SYNOPSIS: In “The Death of Robin Hood,” a new historical drama now playing in theatres, Hugh Jackman stars as the legendary thief as he reckons with his past and searches for a chance at redemption. “People speak of Robin Hood,” he says. “Tell his stories. They’re all lies. He was not a hero. He were a murderous brigand.”

CAST: Hugh Jackman, Jodie Comer, Bill Skarsgård, Murray Bartlett, Noah Jupe. Written and directed by Michael Sarnoski.

REVIEW: Taking its story from the 17th-century ballad “Robin Hood’s Death,” “The Death of Robin Hood” focusses on the murderous, not merry, legacy of the storied thief and killer. This retelling of the story has more to do with Hugh Jackman’s “Logan” than the traditional take. “He was not a hero. He robbed and killed for the joy of it.”

Grim and uncompromising, the movie begins with an aged Robin Hood (Jackman), outlaw archer and equal opportunity killer contemplating his life and the deaths of his victims. He’s murdered so many men, women and children he has lost count, and now finds himself haunted by generations of those who fell at the end of his arrows and blades.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to stop the mayhem, but he’s had a reckoning and now longer finds the joy in taking lives.

Weary, he’s prepared for death when he is grievously wounded in battle. But instead of letting his die, sidekick Little John (Bill Skarsgård) transports him to a remote island and the medical attention of The Prioress (Jodie Comer).

As she nurses him back to health Robin is torn between salvation and the deadly instincts that brought him to The Prioress’s care.

A brutal act of violence in its opening moments immediately differentiates “The Death of Robin Hood” from the romanticized version of the steal-from-the-rich-to-give-to-the-poor character from medieval poems, folk songs and recent movies and television.

Gone is the dashing Douglas Fairbanks style hero, replaced by Jackman’s deeply flawed rogue, a heartless killer who says things like, “I’ll slit your throat and never think of you again.”

Cursed by a gift for violence, he now contemplates if salvation is even available to a man like him.

Director Michael Sarnoski sets the scene for Hood’s reckoning with a series of startling images of brutality. Raw, mano-a-mano-rip-your-foe’s-jaw-off-with-your-bare-hands violence characterizes the film’s first half. It’s unpleasant, raw savagery; all cracking bones, agonized screams and ripping flesh. To paraphrase Marsellus Wallace, Hood and Little John get “medieval on their enemies’ asses.” Shot in low light, these scenes work because of what you don’t see as much as what you do. They are primal, unadorned and brutally effective in showcasing Hood’s special set of skills.

The cloud of unremitting grimness lifts in the film’s second half as Hood becomes introspective, but even then, this film is no barrel of laughs. It is a serious, some might say dire, look at a half-hearted search for redemption.

Jackman does interesting work as the conflicted Hood, but the script’s flowery language doesn’t do him any favors. He’s looking inward, but it feels like there is a barrier between the character and the audience. We never really feel his pain, other than to witness the winces during the blood lettings The Prioress administers to him throughout.

For all its sturm and drang it’s not the introspection that lingers after “The Death of Robin Hood,” it’s the violence, which blunts the potency of the redemption arc, and any ideas of tenderness and morality that may have been on writer/director Sarnoski’s mind.