The Adventures of Robin Hood

I had never seen an Errol Flynn movie before sitting down to watch The Adventures of Robin Hood.  It's not all that surprising, I suppose; swashbuckling movies have been out of style for decades, and the rest of Flynn's body of work consists mostly of action-adventure movies in a period where I prefer moody noirs.  Honestly, I can't think of an instance where someone has even recommended an Errol Flynn movie to me; it is entirely possible that my knowledge of Flynn comes from references made by Nightcrawler in X-Men comic books.  Still, a legend is a legend, and I thought it was past time I gave Mr. Flynn a chance.

I think we all know the basic story in The Adventures of Robin Hood by now.  The rightful king of England, Richard the Lionheart, is kidnapped by another country as he attempted to return home from the Crusades.  Richard's slimy brother, John (Claude Rains), has been temporary ruler of the land for some time, and has enjoyed living a life of luxury while oppressing the Saxon lower classes.  When he hears of his brother's trouble abroad, John takes it upon himself to raise taxes to pay for Richard's ransom.

If this was a movie trailer, you would have heard a record scratch after I typed that

Just kidding!  John is allegedly raising the cash to save the crowd favorite king, but he is secretly plotting to use the money to legitimately crown himself king.  Won't anyone stand up to this mean, mean man?  Enter Robin, Earl of Locksley (Errol Flynn).  He takes it upon himself to denounce John (in John's own castle, to boot!) and promises to fight him at every opportunity.  I could go into more detail, but the rest of the film basically follows the same major plot points that the later remakes have.  Basically, Robin Hood becomes a thorn in John's side and Robin does his best to topple the would-be king.

And by "topple," I of course mean "impale"

Okay, so my first impression of The Adventures of Robin Hood wasn't that great.  It's certainly not bad, but it failed to impress me the same way that contemporary films like Pepe le Moko, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, or even another epic like Gunga Din.  I have my suspicions as to why that is, but I'll wait a bit to explain.

Hint: it has nothing to do with silly hats

The acting in The Adventures of Robin Hood is okay for the time period, but not remarkable on the whole.  Errol Flynn is naturally who you picture when you think of this movie, but there is something about his performance that doesn't click with me.  Flynn's action scenes were pretty good for the time period and it appears that he did many of his own stunts, so I like him in those bits.  It's the abruptness of his performance elsewhere that just felt odd to me.  He would go from a feisty political rant to hands-on-his-hips-head-tilted-back laughter at a moment's notice.  I will admit that Flynn looks like he's having fun on-screen, but he comes across more as an egomaniacal jerk than a hero to me. 

"'Sup, bitches?!?"

Olivia de Havilland is fine as Maid Marian; she gives a lot of dreamy eyes to Robin Hood to convey her love --- which is by no means a bad method --- but I thought the attempts to make her more than a damsel in distress, while interesting, ultimately failed. Basil Rathbone was solid as Robin's chief enemy, the Sheriff of Nottingham Sir Guy of Gisbourne.  He didn't ham it up, but Rathbone did seethe dislike for his enemy well.  Claude Rains was suitably slimy as Prince John.  I spent most of the time he was onscreen staring, mouth-agape at his ridiculous wig and disgusting beard.

Great.  Now I've hurt his feelings.

Melville Cooper was pretty good as the Sheriff of Nottingham, although his character is a lot dumber and far less threatening than just about anyone else who's played the part.  As for Robin's Merry Men, Patric Knowles matched Flynn's hands-on-hips laughter, Alan Hale played a surprisingly regular-sized Little John, and the always vocally distinctive Eugene Pallette was probably my favorite underling as the ornery Friar Tuck.

"Why, you're in Technicolor, too!"

Two men get credit for directing The Adventures of Robin Hood.  William Keighley was hired first, but was eventually replaced by Michael Curtiz when the producers were not impressed by the action scenes.  And yet, enough of both men's work made the final cut to justify co-director credits, which is odd.  I can definitely attest that some of Curtiz's action direction worked well; the sword fighting scenes in the castle are still a standard for sword fights in film.  Personally, I would have rather seen less fencing swordplay and more Princess Bride-style fighting, but it's still good, especially for the era.  I don't like that many action scenes are sped-up to look faster, but Flynn is clearly at his best in these sequences.

"You are using Bonetti's Defense against me, eh?"

It should also be pointed out that many of these scenes have become iconic; watching shadows fencing in the castle was a nice touch and Robin splitting an arrow to win the archery tournament is still classic.  The size of the production is also impressive.  The sets are enormous and there are tons and tons of extras, all wearing their gaudiest tights and hats.  The color in this film is surprisingly vivid, even by today's standards; I don't normally point out the novelty of color in films, but everything is gorgeous and bright, especially the outdoors scenes.

Everything about this movie screams "epic," for better or worse.  To go along with the huge scale, the acting performances are also very broad.  Here's the thing about the acting in The Adventures of Robin Hood: the supporting cast is playing to fit Errol Flynn's lead.  If you don't like how he delivers his lines or reacts to certain things, the supporting cast isn't going to impress you, because they are more or less props for Flynn to dash around.  This is not a subtle movie that wins you over through clever dialogue or interesting camera techniques.  This is a Hollywood blockbuster, dedicated to spectacle.  In that, it is successful.  But there are so many moments in The Adventures of Robin Hood that are not epic, and that is where this film stumbles.

Another mistake: introducing cat-style grooming to romances

Sure, I can agree that an arrow in the torso causes instant death, every time.  Yes, I am aware that Robin Hood is shown eating meat off the bone a comical amount of the time.  No, I don't care that the whole Normans and Saxons subplot is blown way out of proportion.  What I can't stand is that only villains are irritated by Robin Hood.  He rubs every single character he meets wrong at first, but eventually wins them over by being a complete dick and then laughing out loud.  And he's an attention whore!  When Richard finally reveals himself to John, it's definitely a King Moment; after maybe a second of time to react, Robin jumps in front of everybody and essentially screams "Look at me!!!"  Maybe my problem is that I never bought into Errol Flynn's performance enough and enjoyed the ride.  There are enough over-the-top quirks in this film that I can see being sources of joy for a true fan, the same way I enjoy the imperfections of many of my favorites.  Unfortunately, I was hoping for a classic and found the 1938 equivalent of a Summer blockbuster.  It's fine for what it is, I suppose, but I was left wanting more.

The Snake Pit

It's difficult to gauge the quality of movies that seek to inform their audiences after a few years have passed.  The Snake Pit, released in 1948, tackles some of the then-prevalent issues in America's mental institutes.  Obviously, things have changed a little in psychiatry and psychology since then (like gaining widespread acceptance), so a lot of the things this film argues against have already been overcome.  Does that mean this movie is not worth watching?  Well...

Virginia (Olivia de Havilland) wakes up and doesn't know where she is.  She is recently married --- or is she? --- to Robert (Mark Stevens), but she can't find him anywhere.  Virginia is surrounded by a large group of women who appear to be following orders; Virginia doesn't want to follow, but someone she doesn't know implores her to, for her own safety.  As she follows the group, they move into a building, then into a secure area and into a mental ward.  Virginia has obviously gone crazy, but just as obviously doesn't realize it.  Most of the staff in the hospital are rude and abrasive, many of the doctors are cruel and prescribe shock treatment regularly.  There is one doctor, a young upstart with some wacky ideas about the human mind, who wants to cure Virginia through psychotherapy.  With the help of Doctor Mark (Leo Genn), Virginia begins to piece together her life before the asylum and what caused her breakdown.  The title comes from an archaic practice for treating the mentally ill.  The inflicted would be thrown into a pit of snakes, reasoning that something that would drive a normal person crazy would do the reverse to a nut.

The most obviously successful aspect of this movie is the performance of Olivia de Havilland.  Playing a crazy person is always an opportunity for overacting (like Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys), but she plays this role fairly low-key.  When I watch older movies, I often find that the female lead role is pretty bland and boring to watch.  While de Havilland's dialogue doesn't give her much to work with, she was able to carry the film through sincerity and sympathy.  This was Anatole Litvak's biggest critical success as a director, and it depended entirely on his work with de Havilland.  The rest of the cast is nothing special.  Leo Genn and Mark Stevens are faceless ciphers, just filling the film's necessary roles and adding nothing to them.  Celeste Holm is a little more interesting as one of the crazies, but she's more of a cautionary character than a three-dimensional one.  It is worth noting that the opening credits show that Alfred Newman and Leif Erickson are both members of the cast and/or crew.  I guess that makes this film both historically important and funny.

The main thrust of this plot is the importance of psychiatric treatment over punishing treatments.  That might sound odd now, but it was a relatively new idea in the 1940s.  According to this movie, shock treatment, isolation, badgering, and vindictive punishments are not the way to cure the mentally ill.  I'm not saying that's true (who doesn't love being berated in front of others?), but the film suggests that Freudian treatment is the path to sanity.

I get that this was an important movie when it was made.  It won an Oscar for Best Sound Recording and was nominated for five others, including Best Actress (de Havilland), Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay.  With all of those accolades, you would think that this would age well, like a fine wine or an expensive cheese.  It has aged about as well as a box of Better Cheddars would.  One reason for this is because, for better or for worse, film can be a snapshot of an era.  And, like a snapshot, you can look back and notice how funny people dressed, how lame their music was, and how their big social problems are non-issues today.  This happens a lot with "issues" movies; I have a hard time watching Philadelphia and Do the Right Thing for basically the same reason.  The performances are good and the movies were clearly important at the time, but since then our culture has acknowledged that the stances taken in these movies is the correct one.  "Issues" movies are made because they want to draw attention to their subject matter and show it in a different light; when society embraces that new take on the subject, the "issue" doesn't seem as bold as it once was.

Having said that, I would like to point out that this movie was nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre won) because there are some goofy parts in this script.  When Virginia is discussing her courtship with her husband, she lists all the things they had in common: music, walking together and soda.  I am shocked that she could find anyone, much less a single man, with such deviant likes.  Let me just say that, if this was the pinnacle of compatibility in 1948, I am so very glad I am getting married now.  When Virginia is first placed in the mental home, she is given a dose of shock treatment.  She asks her doctor if there was any other way.  His response was "Yes, if we had more time."  Right.  Shock treatment is a quick fix, and psychiatric treatment is renowned for its quick results.  There is also a scene that looks like it is symptomatic of poor writing, but I did a few minutes of research and confirmed that it actually happened: insane asylum prom.  Apparently, it was totally acceptable for the men and women of the mental wards (the sexes were kept in separate buildings then) to mingle at dances.  Everyone seems to have been invited, including the violent patients.  It just goes to show...people back then were weird.

As a film that entertains, The Snake Pit doesn't hold up too well.  Olivia de Havilland does a good job in the lead role, one that still stands the test of time, but she is only one actor.  The rest of the film has aged poorly because the subject matter is no longer controversial.  The film is well made, though, and its purpose is clear.  This film works better as an educational look at how the mentally ill were perceived not too long ago.  Unfortunately, just because a film was once important does not mean it still is.