The Death of Robin Hood (2026) Review

The tale of Robin Hood has endured for centuries, with its titular kind-hearted bandit one of the most recognisable figures in English folklore. Over the years, the outlaw of Sherwood Forest has been reimagined countless times on screen, from the delightfully camp swashbuckling charm of Errol Flynn’s ‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’, to Kevin Costner’s bombastic ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’, and, inarguably the most beloved interpretation, Disney’s 1973 animated classic, ‘Robin Hood.’

Michael Sarnoski is the latest to tackle the story, with ‘The Death of Robin Hood’. The film follows a grizzled and battle-worn Robin, who, after a violent encounter, seeks refuge in a remote priory where he is nursed back to health by the compassionate Prioress, Sister Brigid. Haunted by the violence and choices that shaped him, Robin struggles to reconcile the heroic figure he has become with the man he truly is. As his past catches up with him, he is forced to consider whether a man can ever truly escape the consequences of his own making.

A sombre interpretation of the outlaw’s final days, Sarnoski trades the adventure, romance and escapism traditionally associated with Robin Hood for a more introspective piece. Instead of asking what made Robin a hero, Sarnoski’s film appears more interested in exploring the cost of becoming one. Dark, bleak and violent, it makes Ridley Scott’s gritty 2010 interpretation practically Disneyesque by comparison.

Narratively, ‘The Death of Robin Hood’ offers an intriguing, though flawed, reinterpretation of the iconic outlaw. Its mournful tone allows Sarnoski to explore Robin as a gruff, world-weary man rather than the heroic figure of folklore. He is not the green-tighted merry-maker of old who would be found running through the forest with Little John to the tune of ‘Oo-De-Lally!’. He’s a robber and a killer, and not just of the rich.

This makes for a more realistic presentation of the character, though not necessarily a more compelling one. Sarnoski doesn't always know what to do with this more grounded Robin beyond having him brood and pout. Although a little overly lugubrious and verbose, Robin's conversations with Sister Brigid are among the film's most intriguing scenes, allowing him to reflect on the violence and regret that have defined his life.

Equally affecting is his relationship with the young Margaret, which offers one of the few glimpses of humanity from the hardened outlaw, providing a welcome light amid the film's otherwise relentless gloom. Unfortunately, this dynamic isn’t really fully developed. Ultimately, ‘The Death of Robin Hood’ is at its most engaging when it allows Robin to connect with others, reminding us of the human being behind the name.

Thematically, it treads similar ground to Richard Lester's ‘Robin and Marian’, examining the burden of reputation, ageing and mortality. However, where Lester's film balances its melancholy with warmth, wit and romance, Sarnoski's interpretation is far less entertaining and, arguably, rather dull in places. Dialogue is frequently morose and wordy, with characters often delivering lengthy reflections on guilt and regret. While this fits the film’s themes, it leaves proceedings feeling more ponderous than profound. The film is simply too grim and self-serious for its own good.

That said, it is visually rich and atmospheric. Shot on 35mm, Pat Scola’s textured cinematography captures a harsh, unforgiving world that feels weathered, cold and lived-in. David Lee’s production design is immersive, with everything from the dingy huts and muddy villages to the wide, airy halls of the priory feeling authentic to the period. Further, Lorna Ó Ríordáin’s costumes enhance this sense of realism, favouring worn fabrics and muted colours that strip away the romanticised image of Robin Hood and his world.

The well-choreographed fight scenes, sadly few and far between, are a particular highlight, with Sarnoski presenting violence as brutal, chaotic and physically exhausting. Battle sequences are bloody and unforgiving, emphasising the weight of each clash rather than turning them into spectacle. Scola’s camerawork gives these moments a raw intensity, while Jim Ghedi’s score is haunting and atmospheric, further immersing the audience in Robin’s final journey.

However, ‘The Death of Robin Hood’ ultimately overstays its welcome. Its slow, deliberate pacing works for some of the runtime, allowing Robin’s internal struggle to take centre stage, but certain sequences- particularly in the third act- feel stretched. Andrew Mondshein’s editing could be tighter, while the film’s relentlessly dour tone leaves one feeling as weary and miserable as its protagonist by the time the credits roll.

On the other hand, the cast all deliver. Hugh Jackman, looking like a cross between a scruffy Grizzly Adams and a depressed Irish Wolfhound, commits completely to Sarnoski’s brooding, grizzled version of Robin Hood. It’s an intense performance, reminiscent at times of his rightfully lauded work in 2017’s ‘Logan’. Bringing a real sense of weariness to the role, he portrays Robin as a man exhausted by the weight of who he has become. Jackman has long balanced his natural charisma and physical presence with a capacity for quieter, more internal performances; here he seems utterly broken.

Although the role is a bit underwritten, Jodie Comer is typically excellent as Sister Brigid, bringing a gentle humanity that cuts through the film’s otherwise oppressive atmosphere. Her scenes with Jackman are among the film’s most effective, as they allow Robin to briefly step away from the expectations attached to his name. Faith Delaney does commendable work as the young Margaret, the only real light in the darkness of Robin’s life, while Murray Bartlet and Bill Skarsgård make strong impressions in the smaller roles of a talkative leper and Little John, respectively.

Overall, Michael Sarnoski’s ‘The Death of Robin Hood’ is an uneven deconstruction of the Robin Hood tale. Gritty, cold and anchored by a committed Hugh Jackman performance, it unfortunately gets bogged down by its own solemnity. Yet, Sarnoski successfully strips away the myth to reveal the man underneath, presenting not the adventures of Robin Hood, but his epilogue. Waylon Jennings sang “living legends are a dying breed.” Sarnoski’s film is a mournful farewell to one of folklore’s greatest.