Geoffrey Thorpe, a buccaneer, is hired by Queen Elizabeth I to nag the Spanish Armada. The Armada is waiting for the attack on England and Thorpe surprises them with attacks on their galleons where he shows his skills on the sword.
A film crew goes to a tropical island for an exotic location shoot and discovers a colossal giant gorilla who takes a shine to their female blonde star. He is then captured and brought back to New York City for public exhibition.
Sir Robin of Locksley, defender of downtrodden Saxons, runs afoul of Norman authority and is forced to turn outlaw. With his band of Merry Men, he robs from the rich, gives to the poor and still has time to woo the lovely Maid Marian, and foil the cruel Sir Guy of Gisbourne, and keep the nefarious Prince John off the throne. Written by
Little Pine Weasel <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Errol Flynn had some of his own design ideas, notably complaints about the fringed wig designed for his character. After a convincing note from Flynn to Hal B. Wallis back at the studio, the wig was redesigned according to the actor's needs and suggestions. Reshooting was unnecessary since up to that point, the offending hairpiece had only been photographed under a hat. See more »
The film plays very fancifully with real history. Even the opening titles are full of inaccuracies. See more »
Town Crier announcing capture of Richard:
News has come from Vienna: "Leopold of Austria has seized King Richard on his return from the Crusades. Our king is being held prisoner. Nothing further is known. His Highness Prince John will make further public pronouncement tomorrow."
See more »
Opening card: "In the year of Our Lord 1191 when Richard, the Lion-Heart, set forth to drive the infidels from the Holy Land, he gave the Regency of his Kingdom to his trusted friend, Longchamps, instead of to his treacherous brother, Prince John.
Bitterly resentful, John hoped for some disaster to befall Richard so that he, with the help of the Norman barons, might seize the throne for himself. And then on a luckless day for the Saxons..." See more »
This film *is* the Robin Hood of the screen: it's merry and witty, tender and bold, impudent, dashing and brightly clad... and an undoubted legend in its own lifetime! I recently had the chance to see it in the cinema for the first time, with the release of the remastered print, and wondered if it could possibly hold up to televised childhood memories. The joyous answer is that indeed it does. It's not only the breathtaking adventure I remembered; it's a fiery and surprisingly gentle romance that isn't afraid of laughs.
It's unthinkable, once you've seen it, to imagine this film with anyone other than Errol Flynn. Every subsequent interpreter has had to struggle to reclaim the part from the memory of his roguery and grace - and most modern 'Robin's have been handicapped by an insistence on authentic mediaeval murk and grime. In the 1930s, with Technicolour the latest craze, mud and homespun were the last thing a studio wanted. Flynn's Robin Hood sports the Lincoln green of legend and a forest as brightly coloured as a painted backdrop, and the rich furs and silks on show at Nottingham Castle are straight out of fairy-tale; or an illuminated manuscript.
The story itself is purest escapist magic. Greedy barons, a wicked usurper, a rightful king in exile, and a proud beauty in distress... and, of course, England's eponymous outlaw hero, robbing the rich to give to the poor with a jest on his lips in true swashbuckler style. The script sparkles. And the stunts, in those days before wire-fu or CGI, are all for real and still take the breath away. Flynn was in superb physical condition at the time - co-star Basil Rathbone, who played his proud opponent and would-be suitor to Marian's hand, Guy of Gisbourne, described him simply as 'a perfect male animal' - and misses no opportunity to show off his flamboyance.
Unlike today's pretty-boy heroes, however, Flynn shows a surprising talent for acting with his face alone. The expressive reaction shots throughout his boudoir scene with Marian tell a different tale to the quickfire banter of his words, and, like Marian, despite ourselves we are drawn in. Olivia de Havilland, as Marian, is somewhat ill-served by her period costume - she is at her most beautiful in this scene, without her hair confined in her wimple - but together they duel their way through a classic tempestuous romance of the high-born lady and the outlaw, ultimately risking their lives to save each other. Marian is no anachronistic action heroine, but no-one, not even Robin, can keep her from what she thinks is right.
As Guy of Gisbourne, Basil Rathbone is also playing one of the landmark roles of his career, and gives a superb performance. His Gisbourne is no cardboard villain, but a clever, arrogant man, who matches wits and blades with Robin as a worthy rival, and whose courtship of Marian is not without grace. And his wily master, rufous Plantagenet Prince John (Claude Rains, in a small but well-cast part) is no fool either. He knows precisely what he wants and what he can get away with, wasting no time in bluster or empty threats.
Comedy of a broader nature is provided by the cowardly Sheriff of Nottingham, and by Bess, Marian's maid. But even Bess's farcical courtship with timid Much (she has buried more husbands than he has had kisses) is not without its tender moments, and perhaps only the Sheriff is entirely a cut-out figure of fun.
Few people can whistle 'the theme from Robin Hood'. But the famous Korngold score, with its full orchestral depth and rousing fanfares, is as familiar today as it was seventy years ago, when it won its Academy Award. From the faultless casting through unforgettable pageantry and timeless romance to the final spectacular duel, when Robin and Gisbourne meet "once too often", this picture richly deserves its reputation as *the* Robin Hood on film - from which on present showing it is unlikely ever to be dethroned.
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