SHORT TAKE

Sherwood Forest’s most famous resident has endured much on the big screen: the mockery of Mel Brooks, Kevin Costner’s barely there accent, the grubby dullness of Russell Crowe and Ridley Scott’s attempt to Gladiator- ise the legend. Now it’s suffered its lowest blow yet with Robin Hood, a film of catastrophic, near-cosmic stupidity.

As played by Taron Egerton, the vigilante is known by many names. To Nottingham’s elite he’s “spoilt toff” Robin of Loxley. Oppressed subjects call him “The Hood”. To his mates he’s just plain old “Rob”.

Similar to Guy Ritchie’s equally dire King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, this treatment retains the crux of the folklore and the traditional setting but buffs it up with aggressive slow-mo action and modern dialogue. The effect is cartoonish, and attempts at real-world parallels are flippant. At one point, Rob asks, “How about a little redistribution of wealth?”

Every actor seems to think they’re in a different movie. Egerton is still doing his Kingsman character. Tim Minchin as Friar Tuck thinks it’s a mischievous caper. Poor Marian (Eve Hewson) is paraded flesh in a range of low-cut tops. Jamie Foxx is merely copying Morgan Freeman from Prince of Thieves.

Villains always have more fun. Ben Mendelsohn’s faux-fascist Sheriff of Nottingham adds hints of malicious high camp to proceedings. But for the most part, it’s a dismally boring and indecipherably scattershot film. Perhaps worst of all, Robin Hood ends with the threat of a sequel.

IN CINEMAS NOW