Robin-in-a-Hoodie and Mad Marian

So I recently finished watching the Series One DVDs of this new BBC Robin Hood series titled, well, Robin Hood, starring Jonas Armstrong as the eponymous main character. And he really does wear a hoodie. It's a tad grubby and Middle Ages retro-ish, but unmistakeably a hoodie. With the insouciant charm of Errol Flynn, a rakish J. Timberlake beard, and more serious hints of the tortured returning soldier, he's a thoroughly modern Robin for a thoroughly modern interpretation of an old, old tale.

This particular retelling is full of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies, and is occasionally afflicted with Political Relevance. All the social conventions and class hierarchies of the Middle Ages are either misunderstood or gleefully cast aside, and the archery invents whole new rules of physics. This is a portrait of medieval life that its true denizens would be gobsmacked to behold.

But this is entertainment, not history, and must be accessible to its audience, who (the producers obviously assumed) wouldn't sit still for anything as drab as reality. Action, Romance, Humor, and Funky Fashions are the order of the day.

Robin is a nobleman, but one with grand ideas of egalatarianism. With a blithe disregard for medieval law, the Sheriff (i.e., the writers) deprives him of his estate and make him an outlaw, and thus he devotes his time to the true business of Robin Hood: rescuing the downtrodden and irritating the Sheriff. (Robin returns from the Crusades slightly stressed, in a post-traumatic sort of way; now he's nominally a pacifist, at least with regards to actual killing, so irritate is about all he can do to the Sheriff, who takes predictable advantage of this weakness.)

So Robin wears a hoodie and Marian wears...well, odd things. Layered things. Things that would never be found in the wardrobe of any well-bred woman of that century. And she's mad. In the angry sense. Mad at the Sheriff, mad at her father (the previous Sheriff, now on permanent administrative leave), mad at Gisborne (sometimes), and very mad at Robin. It's not clear why. He's a tease, true, but not a bad sort overall, yet she either treats him as if he were scum or else a small annoying boy doing dumb heroic things, mucking about in the woods and putting himself in danger.

The truth is, she also secretly mucks about in the woods and puts her own self in danger, so she's a hoydenish hypocrite in addition to being petulant. She puts more trust in the dastardly but rather dumb (though admittedly looking very fine in black leather) Gisborne than she does in the scampish but honorable Robin. I imagine her feistiness is meant to appeal to modern liberated females, but her gutsiness is often outweighed by her grumpiness. Fortunately, toward the end of the season the writers were moving toward humanizing her. I hope it takes, because I found her very tiresome.

Yet despite all its shortcomings, for the most part I found the show to be delightful.

The dialogue is clever. The stories are fun. And sometimes funny. The characters are entertaining. The Sheriff, for instance, is a committed narcissist, a thwarted thespian with all of Nottingham as his stage. He's psychotic in a jolly, macabre sort of way, and an utter crawling coward. And there's wistful Subtext between him and Robin. (Wistful on his part, at any rate. Robin is immune.)

Robin's merry band includes Will Scarlet (a rather earnest young carpenter), Alan (a roguish sort), Little John (a big guy with some depth to him, though when he has a chance to leave the forest and find a new life with his wife and son, he doesn't. Does he really like being an outlaw that much? Oh wait, no, it's because his contract with the show requires him to keep playing Little John. Yes, that's it.)

And then there's Djaq (pronounced Jack), the Saracen woman disguised as a man (yeah, I know). Once I stopped rolling my eyes, however, I discovered that she's an intriguing character in her own right, an interesting addition to the band, and far more likeable than Marian.

But the very best character, the one who truly makes the watching worthwhile, the beating heart of the story, is Much.

Much is/was Robin's serf. I say is/was because Robin freed him upon their return from the Holy Land. Much's attachment to Robin is rather like Sam's to Frodo, based on friendship, loyalty, and sheer habit, but at the same time, Much wants to be his own man, with status in the world. (Or at least an endless supply of hot meals.) He balances with a foot in both camps -- respectability and outlawry -- and finds it an uncomfortable stance.

He is the comic relief one moment and the surprising (and surprised) hero the next; he is easily the deepest, most divided, and therefore the most complex character in the show. He feels injustice keenly, but his stern sense of right and wrong, and even sterner notions of class distinction and order, often conflict with Robin's more laissez-faire and damntheconsequences approach to life in Sherwood. Once, when Robin clearly intends to put the hot iron to Gisborne in order to get vital information, Much is horrified and objects. "This does not concern you," Robin tells him grimly, but Much disagrees, "You are my master. Everything concerns me. I have followed you into battle, I have followed you into the forest, but" (he declares dramatically and politically relevantly) "I will not follow you into torture!"

Much tolerates (under protest) much that is of dubious morality (or least upsets his notions of the proper order of things), but he does have his limits.

Series Two just finished airing on the BBC in the UK, so I'm eagerly awaiting the moment when it will be available for American viewers. If you haven't seen it, rent the DVDs. Much will make it worth your while.