Hugh Jackman is a grizzled elder in The Death of Robin Hood, Michael Sarnoski's homage to the (in)famous, bow & arrow sporting wonder, Robin of Locksley. Way past his prime, and on the run from all the surviving kin of the countless folks he's killed in his youth, Robin stabs a female assassin in the throat, rips a man's hand in half, and sticks a burning torch in a man's head. All this takes place within the first twenty five minutes - before I've even had a chance to form a comfy groove in my seat.
This is, by far, the darkest cinematic tale associated with Robin Hood. Parts of it feel like an ultraviolent Game of Thrones episode on steroids; while the latter half, involving old Robin's stay at a remote island, where a compassionate nurse (Jodie Comer) heals him, despite members of her family having been among Robin's victims.
The Death of Robin Hood is not a great movie; it was never supposed to be. But it is way better than it deserves, focusing on a fading legend's remorse for the wrongful life he's lived, weighed by unmentionable guilt. Jackman outdoes himself in the role, and the final scene is uncommonly moving, despite its anti-hero's questionable morality.
☆☆☆
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