Oscarstravaganza: The Adventures of Robin Hood

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Winner: Best Art Direction, 1938
Director: Michael Curtiz, William Keighley
Starring: Errol Flynn, Olivia de Havilland, Basil Rathbone, Claude Raines

I'll probably end up seeing the new version of Robin Hood but I have to admit that I have my reservations. It looks very dark and serious and the Robin Hood story should be lighter, more fun. There's a reason why The Adventures of Robin Hood is a beloved classic, and there's a reason why many have a fondness for Robin Hood: Men In Tights (don't let yourself think of the song, it will be stuck in your head all day. Trust me) - they're fun. There's just something inherently campy about the story of a man who robs from the rich to give to the poor along with his band of merry men. To go dark and serious with it seems contrary to its spirit.

The set up for the story is thus: King Richard the Lionheart has been taken captive, allowing for his brother Prince John (Claude Raines) to make a power grab. Robin of Locksley (Errol Flynn), a loyalist to the King, wages a campaign against Prince John and his allies, stealing their ill-gotten wealth in order to ransom the King. Since he must live in hiding to avoid arrest, he takes up residence in Sherwood Forest and is joined by his gang: Will Scarlet (Patrick Knowles), Little John (Alan Hale, Jr.), Much (Herbert Mundin), and Friar Tuck (Eugene Pallette).

After being humiliated by Robin in front of the fetching Maid Marian (Olivia de Havilland), the Sheriff of Nottingham (Melville Cooper) and his right hand man Guy of Gisborne (Basil Rathbone) come up with a plot to trap the wily outlaw by hosting an archery competition. Meanwhile, Robin and Marian fall in love and the King sneaks back into England disguised as a monk. After a few twists and turns, the film reaches its climax with a fabulous sword fight and the triumph of the forces of good over the forces of evil.

Released in 1938, when color films were still the exception rather than the rule, The Adventures of Robin Hood is like an explosion of color. Even today the costumes and photography seem almost impossibly vibrant and lush. It is also a very high energy film, with plenty of action and humor and just a general feeling that everyone involved is having a blast. The tone that the film is able to maintain throughout makes it a crowd pleaser but it achieves this without sacrificing anything of the story, which can be a rare feat. It finds the right balance between the action and adventure and the romantic plot and it allows the characters to flourish and take on lives of their own. Technically and artistically, this is an exceedingly well made film.

The Adventures of Robin Hood marks the third screen pairing of Flynn and de Havilland, who co-starred in eight films all together. They're a good match and de Havilland is able to make Maid Marian more than just "the obligatory girl" and even gets to be a bit feisty. As for Flynn, he resets the bar for Robin Hoods (originally set by Douglas Fairbanks in 1922), creating a good mix of righteousness and roguishness, which is exactly what Robin Hood needs since he's the good guy doing things the bad guy way. He keeps it light, never seeming to take himself too seriously, and that goes a long way towards the film's success. Thanks in large part to Flynn's performance, this classic film remains an eminently enjoyable experience.

100 Days, 100 Movies: The Final Selection

99 movies down and only one selection left, this spot reserved for the absolute best movie ever made (by which, of course, I mean my favourite). Drum roll please...



Casablanca (1942)

Director: Michael Curtiz
Starring: Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henreid

You must remember this, the enduring tale of love and sacrifice, of wartime politics and subterfuge, noble men and scoundrels, and Rick’s Cafe Americain – the original bar where everyone knew your name. Casablanca is a movie with a little something for everyone, a thoroughly satisfying film for the romantic and the cynic alike.

Whether you’ve seen the film or not, the plot ought to be familiar to you: Casablanca, located in French Morocco, is one of the stops along the way for those wishing to flee the Nazis and take refuge in the US. Rick’s Cafe Americain is the local hot spot, owned by Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) and frequented by Captain Louis Renault (Claude Raines) and black market dealer Ugarte (Peter Lorre) amongst scores of others waiting and plotting their escapes from Casablanca. There are three new arrivals in Casablanca: the German Major Strasser (Conrad Veidt), Victor Laszlo (Paul Henreid) and his wife, Isla (Ingrid Bergman). Strasser has come to ensure that Laszlo, a resistance figure and concentration camp escapee, doesn’t make it to America. Laszlo and Isla were meant to get the letters of transit which would allow their escape through Ugarte, who is arrested before he can sell them but not before he can give them to Rick for safe keeping. When Laszlo and Isla come to make the deal, Rick is confronted with his past, having loved and lost Isla in Paris. Now Rick, who until now has been determined not to stick his neck out for anybody, must decide whether it’s worth it to put himself in danger to help Laszlo, and Isla must decide what she’s willing to sacrifice (or not, depending on how you look at it) to ensure that Laszlo gets out of Casablanca.

Casablanca is about a lot of things, but it seems to me that above all else, it’s the story of desperation. The people in Casablanca are all desperate to get out, to get on to the States, and one of the film’s subplots involves a woman who agrees to a liaison with Renault in exchange for his agreeing to help her and her husband to flee. Laszlo is desperate to escape the Nazis and continue his work. Rick and Isla are desperate in their love for each other – but each is also desperate for something else, too. Isla wants to make sure that Laszlo is able to continue his work, for which she admires him so greatly, and Rick, despite his hard shell and his roguish pose, wants to do the right thing.

Isla’s relationships with Rick and Laszlo are, of course, the central focus of the story. Isla loves Rick, but worships Laszlo, whom she had thought was dead when she and Rick met in Paris. In certain respects, Isla is an empty character, an object to be bartered over by the two strong male figures who will determine her fate, but in the hands of the luminous Bergman, the character is given depth and dimension. Henreid, as Laszlo, has a role that ought to be thankless – the spotless hero and cuckold – but he, too, makes more of it than what is present on the page. There is a great scene early on when Laszlo and Isla discuss all the times when they might have gone their separate ways but instead stayed together, that demonstrates why Laszlo is a legitimate rival for Rick, rather than just a device of the plot.

Bogart has the film’s best role (though Raines runs a close second as the shady but ultimately sentimental Renault) as a man who puts on a tough show, but is really a romantic on the inside. He’s quick to tell people that he’s out for number one, that he cares about himself and himself alone, but what he consistently shows is that he cares a great deal about other people and wants to help them. Sure, he doesn’t lift a finger to help Ugarte when Renault decides to round up “the usual suspects” in an effort to track down those two missing letters of transit, but he does help the woman who was willing to prostitute herself to Renault by ensuring that her husband wins big at the roulette table, and he has a history of fighting the good fight, even if he does insist that he only did it for the money. Further, when he’s making plans to sell the cafe, he makes sure that his employees will all be well taken care of. Rick is a really well-rounded character and through the course of the film he truly earns the right to make that great and selfless speech to Isla, the one about three people whose problems don’t amount to a hill of beans in the grand scheme of things.

From a technical point of view, the film is perfectly crafted, unfolding at a brisk pace, without ever taking a wrong turn, without a single moment that is out of place. It’s one of the most quotable movies I’ve ever seen (from “Here’s looking at you, kid” and “We’ll always have Paris” to “We haven't quite decided yet whether he committed suicide or died trying to escape,” hardly a scene goes by without at least one priceless line) and its story is compelling, as demonstrated by the number of times it’s been cribbed by other films, television shows and stories. There isn’t a second of this film that I don’t cherish and adore. To me, this is absolutely and without a doubt, the best movie ever made.