The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men (1952)

Oo-de-Lally!  Oops.  Wait.  I mean… riddle-de-diddle-de-day.  Wrong movie.  Whatever.  We’re taking a trip to Sherwood Forest to meet with the most famous band of rogues in all of merry old England!  But it’s not the movie you think it is!

Disclaimer: This blog is purely recreational and not for profit. Any material, including images and/or video footage, are property of their respective companies, unless stated otherwise. The authors’ claim no ownership of this material. The opinions expressed therein reflect those of the authors and are not to be viewed as factual documentation. All photos are capped from my copy of the movie with Lightshot Screenshot unless otherwise specified.

Disney’s anthropomorphic animal version of Robin Hood is one of the more popular hidden gems in the animated canon.  Especially in a… particular corner of the Internet.  But it wasn’t the first time the company tackled the legend of the famous outlaw. That would their second feature filmed in Britain using funds that couldn’t leave the UK. It was loosely based on The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, compiled by Howard Pyle and my god was this a challenging read.  The plot of the film ended up being very similar to the better received and more memorable Ivanhoe, another adaptation of the story that came out the same year.  Despite not leaving much of an impression, reviews were favorable, praising the action sequences and the acting, especially on the villains’ part.

And that’s literally all the notes I was able to find on the making of this thing, so let’s just jump right in!

STORY

We return to the standard book opening. The pages of our trusty storybook reveal that King Richard the Lion Heart is leaving to fight in the Crusades. Among the men joining him are his trusted friend the Earl of Huntingdon. The movie proper begins and we enter Huntingdon Manor, where everyone is preparing for the Earl to leave. An aged nurse named Tyb races around looking for his daughter so she can join the Earl on the way to London. She asks the Earl’s good friend Hugh Fitzooth if she’s off with his son, but she can’t be. He’s off doing manly things.

Said son just happens to be named Robin Fitzooth, and said “manly things” involve shooting arrows at sticks. He misses, to his annoyance, and when he goes to retrieve his arrow Marion pops up out of the bushes. Laughing, the two chase each other through the forest while Marion teases him for his aim. He trips her as she runs from him, and jumps on her, all in good fun. Tyb, however, finds them and scolds Marion for getting all dirty, which Robin finds hilarious and mockingly clicks his tongue at her. Marion tells her nurse she’ll meet her father when she darn well pleases and sends Tyb on her way. Tyb is astonished that Marion would have the gall to talk to her that way, but she leaves. But Marion’s not finished giving orders. She tells Robin to lie around missing her until she gets back, and wonders what’s so great about fighting in crusades anyway, even if it is to please a girl. She asks Robin to describe the kind of girl he’d fight for, and he jokingly describes the polar opposite of her… prompting her to kick him in the shins and run away. It’s actually kind of cute.

Marion finally goes home and she and her father ride through the courtyard to the King’s castle. King Richard impresses on his brother Prince John the importance of being a good leader. Prince John agrees and assures him he’s got this but he’s steepling his hands together like a supervillain so you know how that’s going to go. Richard also asks John to take care of the elderly Queen Mother, but Queen Eleanor laughs and replies that she can take care of herself. And she totally can because she’s awesome like that. The Earl of Huntingdon arrives and asks the Queen Mother to take care of Marion while he’s gone. She’s delighted to, and just like that Marion becomes part of the Queen’s household. The existing Sheriff of Nottingham asks to join the King on his crusade, and King Richard agrees just like that, putting Prince John in charge of finding a new Sheriff. Just like that. What could possibly go wrong?

The Archbishop of Canterbury gathers the castle together to pray that the Crusade goes well, and King Richard and the rest take their leave. Prince John doesn’t waste a second to reveal his true colors (though I guess it’s such a well-known story there’s really no point hiding that Prince John is the bad guy and I’m just spoiled by the recent rash of “surprise” bad guys. Anyway). He names the captain of the King’s archers the new Sheriff of Nottingham and tasks him with cracking down on lawbreakers and collecting a ton of taxes. The whole scene is very reminiscent of the scene from Hunchback where Frollo talks about “taking care of” the Roma by crushing the ants, except that the Sheriff is way more on board with the plan than Phoebus was. The Sheriff decides to use the upcoming Nottingham Fair to gather the finest archers in the land to be his henchmen.

There’s just one problem. As we move to the day of the Fair, most of the townspeople are already of the opinion that the Sheriff and his men are nothing more than common bullies and only cheering the commoners in the shooting competition. The final round of competition is between Robin Fitzooth, his father Hugh, and one of the Sheriff’s goons. Robin shoots the target in the dead center, but his father shoots that arrow right in half, winning a golden arrow from the Queen as a prize. Hugh gives the arrow to his son because he shot first, and Robin gives it to Marion as a token of his affections. She drops the bomb that she’s about to leave Nottingham (and Robin) to join the Queen in London, but the movie doesn’t give that pronouncement a chance to really have weight. The Sheriff awards a barrel of ale to all the competitors and offers a job in his service to anyone who hit the target. Hugh gives him an epic verbal beatdown because he’s a tyrant and no one wants to sink to his level. It’s pretty great. The Sheriff is furious as all these brilliant archers turn their backs on him in disgust.

Robin and Hugh ride home through the forest. On the way, they pass the Queen’s convoy and Marion waves to her beau out the window of her carriage. Hugh regrets absolutely nothing from what he just said… but as he says so, an arrow comes out of nowhere and hits him square in the back. Robin takes cover behind a tree and shoots the sniper right back because he’s never heard that old adage about how murdering a murderer doesn’t change the number of murderers in the world. Also this scene is super rushed and Robin doesn’t react to his father’s death. Like, at all. He looks down at the body, looks vaguely confused, and that’s it. The Sheriff’s men show up and chase Robin into the forest, and from that moment on he’s an outlaw.  So says Alan-a-Dale the minstrel, who shows up to exposit for the third time but I didn’t mention it because he’s really pointless.  This is pointless too, but he does tell us he’s changed his name from Robin Fitzooth to Robin Hood and started gathering followers.

Prince John’s men offer a reward to anyone who brings in Robin Hood dead or alive, but the townsfolk are behind Robin one hundred percent. They rally behind him, taunting Prince John about how he’ll never catch him. Alan-a-Dale meanders off, singing about how they love him because he robs the rich and steals from the poor which probably didn’t need to be established because it’s pretty much expected from a movie with the name Robin Hood in the title. The Sheriff’s men are not pleased and redouble their efforts to bully the peasants and steal their stuff because that’s how you encourage people to give you their money. For example, a man who is starving because of the taxes shoots one of the King’s deer so he doesn’t die and stuff. So the Sheriff’s men arrest him, force him to wear the deer’s hide, string him up in the square, and beat him in front of a crowd of caged peasants. Fortunately for the guy in the deerskin, Robin Hood is in the crowd, disguised as a beggar. He shoots an arrow out to summon his Merrie Men, then throws off the beggar cloak. Swashbuckling ensues, peasants start throwing rotting food at the Sheriff.

The Sheriff only barely manages to contain the uprising as Prince John rides up and pulls him into the safety of the castle. Prince John demands to know where all the Sheriff’s men are that the peasants were able to overpower him so easily. Turns out sending your entire force out to collect taxes is a really bad idea. Who knew? To save face and appease the very angry Prince, the Sheriff promises to take the Merrie Men down. Meanwhile, Robin Hood is taking a shower under a waterfall and offering some very blatant and unsubtle fanservice, and the Merrie Men are patching up the guy who got whipped. A sketchy guy with no pants is trying to cross a bridge in Robin’s territory, and Robin can’t have that so he confronts him The two banter good-naturedly and decide to fight for the right to cross the bridge and there’s a really quiet quarterstaff battle. The guy with no pants knocks Robin Hood into the river, then, laughing, pulls him up. He introduces himself as John Little and says he’s looking to join the Merrie Men as soon as he finds their leader. Obviously, he’s in luck, but first, the band throws him into the river to “christen” their new member Little John. Everyone present thinks this is great fun but it gets Robin to think that they should have an actual priest to look after their souls. Fortunately, Little John knows one!

And he’s crazy. We first meet Friar Tuck singing a little duet to himself in two separate voices, clearly drunk, in a scene that’s ripped straight from Howard Pyle. It’s still really bizarre. Robin thinks this is hilarious and hides behind a tree. When he’s discovered, Friar Tuck is ready to throw down, but he can’t do that to a guy who says he’s just trying to pray. For some reason that basically boils down to “it’s in the book”, Robin asks Friar Tuck to carry him across the river on his back. When they make it across, Friar Tuck demands Robin take him back where they came from on his back, and he won’t stop singing the whole time he does this. Robin has enough of this foolishness and the two swordfight and throw each other in the river. The Sheriff’s men show up out of nowhere and order Robin under arrest, but Friar Tuck does not give a rip and won’t let them take him until he finishes. The soldiers fight Robin and the Friar, culminating in Robin stealing the Sheriff’s own horse and running across the river. The Merrie Men show up and shoot the Prince’s archers, causing them to scatter like ants. The Sheriff runs to get his horseback, but the Friar whistles for a big beautiful mastiff to lunge at the Sheriff.

The Merrie Men capture the Sheriff, tying him up and blindfolding him to drag him to Sherwood Forest. The first thing he sees when they remove the blindfold is the guy he had whipped, Will Stutely by name, alive and well. The outlaws insist that the Sheriff join them for a feast.  To his dismay, they’re eating the King’s deer and drinking ale stolen from a bishop. Robin drinks a toast to King Richard, which the Sheriff refuses to join them on until Will Stutely forces him to do so at knifepoint. The Friar tallies up how much the Sheriff owes them for everything he’s done to them, which keeps increasing as the Merrie Men shout out their many grievances. The Sheriff is furious, calling Friar Tuck a “mock priest” and refuses to pay the 200 shillings but he doesn’t really have a choice, since Stutely steals his purse and pours it out over the table. The Merrie Men tie the Sheriff back up, put a deer’s antlers on his head just like he did to Stutely, and put him backwards on his horse so he can ride back to Nottingham in the silliest way possible, thoroughly humiliating him.

Two years pass. We know because the trusty storybook is back and its pages tell us so. King Richard has been imprisoned and his captors demand an enormous ransom from Queen Eleanor and the Archbishop. In the Tower of London, which is apparently not a prison yet, the Archbishop tells the Queen that the people are so desperate to have their beloved King back that priests are melting down their silver, but they’re still only three-quarters of the way there. He also breaks the very interesting tidbit that Prince John refuses to donate anything towards saving his brother. Queen Eleanor is not having any of that and decides she’s going to Nottingham to make him save his brother by shaming him into it as only a mother can.

When she arrives, Prince John lies through his teeth. He says he’s never gotten any of his mother’s messengers and that every penny in Nottingham is going towards bringing down a notorious band of thieves. The Archbishop is openly doubtful, but Prince John namedrops Robin Fitzooth, shocking Maid Marion who is in the room doing noblewoman stuff. She bursts out that Robin Fitzooth and his father is loyal to the king and would never stoop so low as to steal from good people. Prince John breaks the news that Hugh is dead (two years after the fact), executed for shooting a soldier of the crown, and Robin’s body count is even higher. Marion still refuses to believe it and begs the Queen to let her prove that Robin is still loyal. Queen Eleanor refuses, so Marion disguises herself as a page and sneaks out. And it’s wonderful.

In her boys’ clothes and disguised voice, Marion asks Alan-a-Dale if she can join him as he minstrels around the country. One of the peasants he’s been entertaining, Midge the Miller, hurries up to him and asks to hear him sing his song about Robin Hood. They run right into the man himself, along with Little John and Will Scarlett, who aren’t exactly flattered by the tune… except that they totally are and they burst out laughing. Emboldened by the laughter, Alan-a-Dale asks for them to drop a coin in his mandolin. They decline, because they know Midge has the real money and demand he dump out his flour sack. Marion is furious that they’re bullying a poor miller, but Robin ignores “him” and dumps the flour onto Midge’s head.

To defend the miller, Marion grabs a large stick and starts whaling on Robin Hood until Little John pulls “him” off and hurls her into Robin’s arms. In the struggle, her hood falls off and her long hair falls down, revealing herself to be a girl. Just as he did during their first meeting, Robin lightly teases her, but Marion is too incensed that the noble man she once knew is now a petty thief. To smooth things over, Robin invites Midge to join his band and seizes Marion to carry her off. Little John grabs Midge the Miller in exactly the same way. Alan-a-Dale gives the most pathetic little “hey” ever, and it’s so out of a Monty Python movie that I had to stop the film until I finished laughing. Will Scarlett comes out of the trees to invite him along, and also a random adorable puppy shows up out of nowhere for Alan-a-Dale to carry with him.

Friar Tuck successfully convinces Maid Marion that the Merrie Men are the good guys, albeit offscreen. This just begs the question, why on earth did they become outlaws then? Robin’s reply is pretty simple: Prince John is terrible and he banished them for being loyal to King Richard. Marion has the brilliant idea to take the money the Merrie Men stole and add it to the King’s ransom to prove their loyalty, which is a brilliant plan that they really should have thought of. She also exposits a bunch of stuff that we knew already, telling them how Prince John was lying to the Queen and blaming the outlaws for his invented poverty. The Merrie Men are outraged because they know perfectly well that Prince John is just hoarding all the gold in Nottingham to ensure that his brother is never freed, so they happily give up their money to the cause. Maid Marion, who is still on the court’s good side, offers to take the money back to Nottingham. Robin and Tuck decide they’ll both escort her as far as the Abbey, then Friar Tuck will take her the rest of the way alone.

Robin and Marion head off into the forest to have a romantic moment while Alan-a-Dale follows singing like a weirdo. The Friar offers to carry her across the stream on his back like he did with Robin earlier, but Robin takes her across bridal style instead. The Friar knows when he’s not wanted and makes an excuse about finding Marion a room so they can have some privacy. The lovers lament having to be apart as long as King Richard is gone, but Marion at least points out how much better it is for everyone that Robin is here instead of off fighting the crusade. The whole time, Robin is still carrying her just to be close to her, which is kind of adorable. The Friar decides they’ve had their moment and calls for Marion, and Robin finally lets her down. So, Marion jumps right back on him and they kiss while the Friar looks on, squeeing like a fangirl whose OTP just became canon.

Back in Nottingham, the people are donating whatever little they still have towards rescuing the King. Marion runs to the front of the crown with everything she’s gotten from the Merrie Men. The Queen sees through her disguise in seconds, scandalized that Marion’s legs are visible in the page boy’s hose. It’s quickly forgotten when she announces that the Merrie Men are England’s real friends and drops a large sum of money onto the table. The Sheriff scoffs and calls it blood money, when a voice from the crowd heckles him and calls him the real thief. It’s Robin Hood, back in his beggar disguise and surrounded by equally hidden Merrie Men. The planted Merrie Men demand to know where the Sheriff’s donation is, inciting the rest of the crowd to ask the same.

The Archbishop, who is 100% done with the Sheriff’s nonsense and being totally sarcastic, hushes them and says he’s sure the Sheriff is just waiting for the opportune moment to dazzle them with his generosity. But the Sheriff can’t very well continue being this stingy and calls for his own coffers. The Merrie Men take the cue to hurry into the castle and steal the clothes of the Sheriff’s guards so they can loot all the treasure within. Back outside, the Sheriff is dramatically lamenting that the small chest he was given is all he has and wishing he could give more. Robin calls out that his wish has been granted as the Merrie Men carry out a massive chest full of more than enough to save the King all on its own. The Archbishop and Queen share a smirk and announce that this reluctant generosity has surely saved the King.

All seems like it will be well, but there’s still twenty minutes of movie left.  Prince John is very disappointed that the Sheriff lost all that tax money because now he can’t overthrow his brother. He comes up with a plan to dress his soldiers like Merrie Men to steal back their money. After all, Queen Eleanor and the Archbishop have to take the money through Sherwood Forest to get it to Richard’s captors because… plot convenience I guess. The Sheriff strokes the Prince’s ego and tells him what a brilliant evil plan he’s come up with, but Maid Marion knows the real Merrie Men too well to be fooled. So Prince John locks her in a dungeon to keep her out of the way and tells the Queen she’s run off to join Robin Hood. All that’s missing is an evil laugh because oh my god is this man a Saturday morning cartoon or what?

The Sheriff’s men ride to Sherwood. When they catch up with the Queen’s convoy, they quickly change clothes to look like the Merrie Men. In the middle of the forest. Where they know the real Merrie Men live. Shockingly, one of the real Merrie Men spies on them and brings the news back to Robin Hood by shooting an arrow. The guards attack the convoy, but the Queen and the Archbishop have got this. The Archbishop fends them off with a spiky club, and the Queen just stands up and yells at them. And it works. She’s just so awesome her disapproval stuns them into dropping her treasure. It’s epic. The real Merrie Men charge in and mop up the imposters who weren’t intimidated by the sheer amount that their targets do not care. Robin has the decency to make sure the Queen is okay, but she doesn’t trust him because she still thinks it was his Merrie Men who attacked the convoy.

But not for long. Will Stutely brings out a few pieces of the Sherrif’s men’s discarded clothes, with their distinctive black and yellow stripes. At the same time, Little John drags the ringleader of the band by his ear, forcing him to confess that they serve the Sheriff of Nottingham and not Robin Hood. That’s all the Queen needs to figure out who were the thieves and who were the heroes, and also that one of her sons has been a very, very naughty boy. She offers Robin and the outlaws a full pardon when the King comes back, and even forgives him for Marion running off with him. But wait… Marion didn’t run off with him. Everyone is confused, but the Archbishop points out that it was Prince John who told the Queen that Marion had eloped with Robin Hood. So now we have to save the girl because that’s what you do.

Prince John and the Sheriff step out onto the battlement to meet their victorious soldiers. But it’s not their soldiers riding towards them. It’s the Merrie Men, disguised as soldiers, just like the soldiers disguised themselves earlier. Robin holds both the Sheriff and the Prince at knifepoint and demands that they take him to Marion, so they do. Marion embraces him, and the Merrie Men throw Prince John in the dungeon in her place. That’s the last we see of him, but the Merrie Men still have the Sheriff in their power. Robin tells the Merrie Men that they’re going to escort Marion out of the castle, and that he’ll meet the rest of the party at the drawbridge. He points the knife at the Sheriff’s throat again and orders him to tell the guards to lower the drawbridge. The Sheriff promises not to sound the alarm if he lets him go, so Robin reluctantly does. Just as he mounts his horse to take his leave… the Sheriff raises the alarm. Come on, dude. Robin fights the guards and tries to scramble up the drawbridge as it’s raised. The Sheriff climbs up to try to stop him, but Robin manages to throw him off, causing the Sheriff to be crushed to death. It’s surprisingly gory for a Disney villain death. And even once the main bad guys are dead, their mooks are still shooting arrows as Robin tries to swim across the castle moat to safety. One of the arrows hits Robin… end scene.

For a second I thought they were going to end the movie the same way as the book, with Robin bleeding to death. But no this is a Disney movie, that would be ridiculous. Little John wakes Alan-a-Dale and asks for a song to help Robin heal from his injury. The minstrel refuses because he just wants to sleep so Little John steals his lute and sings very badly until Alan-a-Dale finally snatches it back. He wishes Robin a speedy recovery and all the Merrie Men laugh and join in as the minstrel mocks Prince John. Maid Marion, now dressed like a Merrie Man in the customary Lincoln Green asks Friar Tuck how Robin is healing up, then joins him to check on him. As it turns out, Robin Hood is a terrible patient and insists on getting up and moving around. She pushes him onto the bed and forcefeeds him broth like a child while Friar Tuck sits on him.

He manages to get free when he hears an arrow flying outside, because the arrows in this movie all make this really strange whistling noise. A man with his face hidden rides up to the camp, vowing to rid the woods of outlaws. The band’s fear actually really had me going for a minute, as, having read the book, I thought for sure the masked stranger was the murderous Guy of Gisborne. But no- it’s King Richard! And his methods of ridding the woods of outlaws consist of pardoning them so they’re not criminals anymore. He even grants Robin Hood the title Earl of Locksley. Marion only now leaves the cave where Robin was recovering, meaning she conveniently missed that previous scene. King Richard announces that she’s going to marry the Earl of Locksley, which horrifies her until Richard laughingly reveals the truth. Seriously, the guy’s could be a Merrie Man. Marion jumps on her man and plants a big kiss on him as everyone else present cheers. Our lovers are engaged, our villains are defeated, our King is back, and all is well. For realsies this time.

It’s a decently entertaining adaptation of the Robin Hood story, hitting all the story beats well enough. The acting is fine and the comedy is good. But it suffers from being incredibly unexciting for a Robin Hood film. What few action sequences exist are bereft of background music, robbing them of any kind of excitement. Also there are points that feel like the writers weren’t sure whether they were going to structure the film with the usual three acts or make it more episodic. As a result, the middle act is crammed with Robin rescuing individual Merrie Men. These scenes are interesting, but they stop the plot dead. It’s good but not great, trying to strike a balance between the comedic and dramatic tones that characterize most Robin Hood movies and becoming kind of ambivalent.

CHARACTERS

Robin Hood hits all the main beats you’d expect from the character. He’s crafty, he’s mischievous, he loves to have fun, and he’s generally a cool dude until you mess with his loved ones. Then it’s time to get dangerous. Richard Todd plays all that with this roguish charm, and he’s kind of cute, but somehow he’s bland for a Robin Hood. I can’t put my finger on why, but I just didn’t find him super interesting.

Maid Marion fares much better. She’s the first really proactive “action girl” kind of heroine we’ve seen so far, and as much as I can appreciate the sweet ones who save themselves with their kindness, it’s really nice to see something different. Even in her first scene, she’s spunky and sassy and strongwilled, and she’s not about to sit back in the castle when there’s adventuring to be done. Richard Todd scoffed when Walt cast Joan Rice, saying she couldn’t act and he wanted a more experienced acting partner. I’m rather glad he was ignored, and this may have contributed to my lukewarm attitude towards his Robin, because I really liked her performance. Too many Maid Marions are completely absent from the story or reduced to damsels in distress, and I liked that she gave her the spark that she did. Sure, her voice is kind of grating sometimes, but that was how 50’s leading ladies talked so I’ll give it a pass.

Alan-a-Dale is our narrator and literally nothing else. He reminded me strongly of the minstrel from Monty Python, always singing pointlessly about Robin’s deeds even when he’s openly not wanted (like in Whistle My Love). I actually skipped over most of his scenes because that’s how much of a bearing on the plot he had. He’s also probably crazy.

Friar Tuck is definitely crazy. He’s first introduced talking to himself in separate voices. He’s a fun guy, though, always down to join the Merrie Men in their shenanigans and a hair away from starting fights with anyone who looks at him funny. He’s so memorable that James Hayter played him again in a non-Disney production called A Challenge for Robin Hood.

Queen Eleanor of Antiquaine is the coolest old lady I have ever seen in my life. Nothing phases this woman, not even her son sending an army of men to rob her. It’s awesome. Martita Hunt has this poise to her that made her fascinating to watch. She’s easily my favorite character.

King Richard is beloved by all for good reason. He’s caring and fun to be around and has a great sense of justice and fairness that’s important for a king. I thought he was weirdly chipper for a POW but other than that he worked. Patrick Barr, too, reprised his role, this time for a few episodes of a TV show called The Adventures of Robin Hood.

The Sheriff of Nottingham is basically a glorified henchman, as always. He wants to pretend he’s the one in charge but not only does he take orders from Prince John, he’s really bad at maintaining his dignity. If he wasn’t such a nasty piece of work, I’d almost feel bad for him getting humiliated this often. But he is a nasty piece of work. Peter Finch manages this absolutely terrifying glare that almost reminds me of Christopher Walken. I did find his ridiculously poofy hair distracting, but that’s my problem.

Prince John is unusually competent for a Prince John character. Normally he’s very snivelly and pathetic and doesn’t do much. There are elements of that here, but here he’s also very conniving and comes up with some pretty decent plans. Of course, he’s no match for Robin’s cunning but compared to the other Disney incarnation he’s a genius. Now if only he could do something about the evil hand steepling. My one gripe is that Hubert Gregg plays him with this soft, whispery creepy voice that is extremely difficult to hear with the 50’s sound quality.

ARTISTRY

One of the best things about the film is the locales. They actually filmed several scenes in the real Sherwood Forest, which happens surprisingly rarely in Robin Hood adaptations. The matte paintings, a common cost-saving measure in the days before CGI backgrounds, aren’t nearly as intrusive as they were in Treasure Island. In fact, I barely noticed they were there at all until I went through and screencapped stuff. There’s nice color contrast in the camera work between the vibrant greens and browns of the forest and the muted blues and silvers of the castle that helped tell the story.

MUSIC

And here we come to my biggest gripe of the movie. Every song sounds exactly the same. Since the original story includes a minstrel, it makes sense to have a lot of simple, mandolin-backed lyrical poetry serve as your songs in a musical Robin Hood. Stylistically, it makes sense. But did they all have to have the same tune? It makes for a very boring and unmemorable soundtrack.  All but one are performed by Elton Hayes as Alan-a-Dale, which doesn’t help differentiate them any.  He also wrote them all. The background music has a generic medieval flare but more notable than that is its complete absence from certain key scenes.  Having things like Little John’s fight with Robin Hood happen in complete silence is a strange choice that, rather than increase tension, makes the moments extremely boring.

Riddle-de-Diddle-de-Day is a bunch of babbling nonsense that serves to set the stage and open the movie.  It’s very similar to Oo-de-Lally from the other Robin Hood, except it makes absolutely no sense and doesn’t actually give the audience any information except that Robin Hood’s great.  Someone on the production team liked it, though, because it gets reprised twice: once after Hugh’s death when Alan-a-Dale is telling the audience Robin is in hiding, and again to close the film.

Beware is a short little ditty that can barely really be called a song.  It’s a warning to the archers at the fair that the Sheriff is probably up to something.  It sounds like Hayes is making up the lyrics as he goes along.  That’s not really something I like in my musical movies.

Come Sing Low, Come Sing High is… weird.  It does stand out among the other songs, sure, but it’s just so weird.  Friar Tuck is just hanging out entertaining himself under a tree and clearly having way too much fun with his own company.  I’m not entirely sure it needed to be a musical number, other than the fact that it was in the ballads.  I will say one thing for it, though: James Hayter’s facial expressions are a riot, and it’s way catchier than the rest of the soundtrack.

Robin Hood and its reprise serve to recap the movie so far to the gathered crowd.  I think I’ve made my feelings on these kinds of recaps clear throughout the Cinderella reviews.  We’ve seen the movie so far.  We know Robin got one over at the Sheriff.  Repeatedly.  Honestly, until I looked it up I thought these songs were reprises of Riddle-de-Diddle-de-Day.  You’d think a song with the same name after the protagonist would have a little more oomph to it, but not in this movie.

Whistle My Love is this movie’s attempt at a hit single.  It tries to be a romantic love ballad, which is a staple of Robin Hood stories because the whole thing with Maid Marion lends itself so well to it.  Unfortunately for the movie, Alan-a-Dale sings these very stalker-ish lyrics while following behind the lovers who so clearly want a moment to themselves.  I’m sure I wasn’t meant to find this hilarious but I did, because again, it reminded me so much of Monty Python’s minstrel.  I kind of felt like it was a precursor to Love from the other Robin Hood, except, again, that song is better.

Knottle to Knock rounds out our trio of songs that remind me of better songs from the other one.  In this case, it’s The Phony King of England.  It’s like the movie realized it was a musical without any major crowd songs, scrambled to fix that, and failed epically.  And what does “I’ll split Prince John from knottle to knock” even mean?

FINAL THOUGHTS

If you’re looking for an accurate adaptation of the classic Robin Hood stories, this film will do the job.  There’s very little deviation here, so it’s a great way to introduce someone to the basic story beats with no frills and no fluff.  It also boasts some pretty good acting performances, especially on the parts of Joan Rice and Peter Finch.  It’s a fine little movie… but that’s all it is.  It’s fine.  The music is particularly lackluster, and some of the fight scenes are truly horrendous.  It really got in the way of my enjoyment of the film, which I don’t like saying.

Favorite scene: Queen Eleanor of Antiquane stopping the robbers by shouting at them.  It was so epic.  I want to be her when I grow up.

Final rating: 5/10.  What’s good is passable and what’s bad is cringeworthy but mostly the movie just kind of idles in the middle.  And middling is not something you want a Robin Hood movie to be.