In her The Death of Robin Hood review, Lisa Johnson Mandell feels that this take on the cinematically overexposed character is original, but it’s a long slog through violence and mayhem to get to the lovely end.

Hollywood has decided, for roughly the four hundredth time, that what the world needs is another trip to Sherwood Forest. Let’s revisit some of the men who have strapped on a quiver and called themselves Robin Hood, shall we?

There was Errol Flynn in the swashbuckling 1938 classic The Adventures of Robin Hood, all dimples and derring-do. Then Cornel Wilde gave it a shot in the 1946 Bandit of Sherwood Forest. Richard Todd took a turn in Disney’s 1952 The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men.

And who can forget Sean Connery brooding through it in 1976’s Robin and Marian. Kevin Costner gave us that American accent — bless his heart — in the wildly popular 1991 Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Perhaps my favorite is Cary Elwes, who went the parody route in Mel Brooks‘ glorious 1993 Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

You may or may not remember when Russell Crowe hauled himself into the role for Ridley Scott’s 2010 Robin Hood, which was grim and self-important in its own right. And Taron Egerton tried a slick, modern-ish version in the 2018 Robin Hood.

Now, in 2026, we have Hugh Jackman in The Death of Robin Hood. My question is why? Guys, the arrow has been fired. Repeatedly. Into the same forest. For nearly ninety years.

The Death of Robin Hood review — What makes it different from all the others

But I will grant you this: The Death of Robin Hood, directed by Michael Sarnoski (of Pig fame), is playing a genuinely original  tune. This Robin Hood is no hero. He was never a hero. He was a murderer, a thief, and a violent man whose legend was stitched together from equal parts myth and outright lies and he’s spending his twilight years desperately trying to outrun the repercussions.

We find him aged, tormented by his past killings, living in self-imposed exile. He doesn’t want statues. He doesn’t want ballads. He wants everyone to forget he ever existed so he can die in something approaching peace. It is, admittedly, a fresh angle.

Because of the title, you know how the story ends, but the question is, will he make amends and die in peace. Helping him on his journey are a prioress played by the incandescent Jodie Comer, a youth played by Noah Jupe,  who no one will forget from Hamnet, and Little John, grimly performed by Bill Skarsgård.

And then there’s Hugh Jackman in the lead. He’s fine. He’s well-buried under prosthetics, aged makeup and a busy beard. He lumbers about in a general aura of medieval despair and weariness, which is appropriate. But really, it could have been anyone under all those devices. You can’t help but wonder, if Jackman, after taking on roles in The Sheep Detectives and the enormously successful Deadpool & Wolverine, simply wanted to do something quiet and artistically serious.

And make no mistake about it, The Death of Robin Hood is deadly serious. There’s an excessive amount of men rolling around in mud and bludgeoning each other, and arrows shot through skulls and protruding from eye sockets. When I saw a child wandering around zombie-like in this condition, I was pretty much done with the  film.

But I was glad I stayed through the end. The film’s central idea is genuinely subversive, its three principal supporting performances are superb, and its ending is really quite beautiful. There is light, there is redemption, there is profound emotion and imagery.

The problem is you have to wade through an extraordinary amount of gloom, grime, mud, blood, and eye-socket arrows to get there. It is, in the end, a very muddy path to a very lovely clearing.

Rated R

2 Hours 3 Minutes

If this The Death of Robin Hood encourages you to make your merry way to the cineplex, get times and tickets at Fandango.com.

In her The Death of Robin Hood review, Lisa Johnson Mandell feels that this take on the cinematically overexposed character is original, but it’s a long slog through violence and mayhem to get to the lovely end.