I remember seeing the first Robin Hood trailer earlier this year and laughing at its over-the-top, full-tilt, pseudo-Guy Ritchie action stylings—particularly one signature shot of leading man Taron Edgerton (as Hood) firing a no-look shot at a wooden target with posture so absurd that it might only make sense in a Frank Frazetta painting. Look, I'm not one to be too picky about posture and craft in movies, especially in the action genre—Jeremy Renner's Hawkeye in the MCU doesn't exactly have the fundamentals of archery down-pat, and it's never bothered me. But the gratuitous nature of this scene, in which it's clear that Edgerton's brutal, muscular draw-and-release of his bowstring was clearly intended as the focal point and visual spice of the shot, indicated to me that we were in for a retelling of the classic public domain character that would give exactly zero shits about striving for anything other than making Robin Hood look like a superhero for the Superhero Age.
And now that it's here, Robin Hood has done exactly that, and literally nothing more. Robin Hood does, in fact, look like a superhero in this film. Visually and choreographically, he is the Green Arrow as depicted by Stephen Amell in The CW's Arrow. He jumps, flips, slides, and spins down corridors and through doorways while firing one or two arrows (hell, sometimes even three) faster than you can call bullshit.
Interestingly enough, however, director Otto Bathurst made a point to have Edgerton fire just about every shot in the film that was humanly possible. That's right: every time I felt compelled to call bullshit, I had to remind myself that Edgerton was actually doing it. Of course, any time Robin actually shoots someone and the arrow hits its target on-screen, movie magic and perhaps even CGI had to be used. But in terms of actually firing off multiple arrows while moving, jumping, and spinning, it's all done by Edgerton in-camera. Look it up on YouTube; there's several videos of Edgerton behind the scenes, training with world-renowned archery expert Lars Andersen, to get good enough to be able to hit three simultaneously moving targets in midair. Three hits in one-and-a-half seconds, or something like that. Ridiculous. Knowing that background information actually helped me appreciate several of the archery stunts in the film, though anyone who didn't know would probably not think twice about it.
But Edgerton's skill in stunt archery is pretty much the only impressive thing about Robin Hood. Bathurst clearly goes for the styles of pulp-action master Guy Ritchie, in terms of color grading and sheer ridiculousness, but his scenes lack the tact or restraint that Ritchie has spent so many years refining to create visually interesting and narratively coherent action. Aside from the trick-shots seen in the trailer, there's hardly any visual action moments worth noting or remembering; It's yet another case of movie marketing giving away the best parts of a film. Otherwise, the action is all just shaky closeups and slow-mo shots of fire and things breaking or clanging together. It feels more like a metal music video than an actual scene with narrative responsibility.
Action aside, it's an incredibly drab film. Every single moment of the film—every scene, every line of dialogue, every character interaction—is a cliché. There really isn't much more to say about it. Every single second of this movie has been done in a thousand better movies. All of it is devoid of personality or unique flavor; the whole thing is purified collection of movie tropes. It's like someone programmed an artificial intelligence to write a screenplay based on a thousand mediocre action movies, and Robin Hood was the perfect average of all of them. It's an incredibly safe, undaring assembly-line product of a film. None of the characters are real characters with personalities or personal motives; they are merely vessels for exposition and catchy one-liners. Edgerton and costar Jamie Foxx (as Little John) can do nothing to elevate the film, despite their best(?) efforts. Ben Mendelsohn, as the wicked Sheriff of Nottingham, is essentially the same as his Orson Krennic from Rogue One: A Star Wars Story but without all the inner conflict and humanity that made that character the slightest bit engaging. Tim Minchin as Friar Tuck at least lends some of his goofy faces and tonal inflections to his lines in order to make it seem like there was some semblance of a human touch to this film.
The opening narration (delivered by Minchin, over a shot of a storybook opening up its pages—classic) is bold enough to suggest that "this isn't the Robin Hood story you know," and then promptly gives you pretty much all the exact beats of the Robin Hood story you know. I can't over-emphasize how unaware this movie is of its own lack of creativity. There are a few tiny moments scattered throughout that border on "so bad it's good" satisfaction, but for the most part, it's floats in that awful limbo between hilarious bad and almost-maybe-kinda-good. There's nothing unexpected or even especially satisfying about this movie. I award it one star for Edgerton being a badass archer in real life; zero stars for anything else.