Robin Hood: The True Price of Defiance

Here we are with just three episodes left to go, and somehow this show feels like it’s still warming up. Time certainly flies!

As per the previous episode, the Saxon Elders (including Robin’s Uncle Gamewell) are locked up in Nottingham dungeons, awaiting their fate. The Sheriff states that he’s going to pull the old “you’ll all be executed unless Robin turns himself in” ploy, though after freeing one of the prisoners to deliver the message, he divulges to his new captain that this isn’t the real plan. It would appear that scheming and plotting has finally entered the chat…

… as has Priscilla in London, having accompanied the Marshal of Pembroke from Nottingham. This is all very confusing, because – in what capacity is she here? Her father is at home, she has no chaperone to speak of, and the Marshal immediately takes her into what appears to be his own chambers. I mean, one can only assume that she’s his mistress, but why on earth would the Sheriff sanction that?

Naturally Celine’s claws are out (you’d think the Marshal would have some sort of plan for mollifying his previous bedfellow) and the two women trade rather tedious bitchface barbs throughout the course of the episode. Yay.

In a somewhat amusing moment, Priscilla voices her relief that she’s far away from “that devil” Robin Hood, which of course is our cue to cut directly to the reveal that he’s also in London, having travelled there  with Tuck and Little John to stockpile weapons. There’s a fun little bit in which John’s contacts lead them to a Saracen dealer called Rashid, who is willing to trade for favours and loyalty as well as gold.

I’m happy to see a Saracen present and accounted for in this new adaptation, though it remains to be seen whether this will be the Saracen in the way Nasir and Djaq and Azeem was the Saracen, or just a Saracen. Even more interesting is that Robin, John and Tuck are on this little excursion together. In many ways they’re forming a Freudian Trio, with Robin as the Id (driven by instinct and desire), Tuck as the Superego (reminding him of rules, morality and social conventions) and John as the Ego (the reconciliatory component of the two, although sure – that read on him is a little weaksauce. Like Robin, he runs mostly on his desire to wreak vengeance on Normans).

Still, there is still some tension between Tuck and Robin about what exactly their aims are and how they’re going to achieve them. Tuck hasn’t thrown in the towel just yet, even if he’s rather leery about what accumulating weapons means for the escalation of this war. His reticence does make me wonder though: how far would he be willing to go against his stated true enemy, the corrupt church?

Robin has one more favour to ask of Rashid: to provide him with passage to Westminster, where he disguises himself as a guard to sneak inside and find Marian. Now this is the material I live for! The scene of their reunion is rather beautifully done, with Robin spotting her looking over the gardens, and the director taking the time to track his slow approach across the passageway to meet her. It’s all very romantic, but the mood is quickly lost when Marian remembers she’s still really, really pissed off at him. He pulls the whole: “tell me you don’t love me” challenge, and though she can’t quite make herself say it, she does manage to tell him that she doesn’t want to love him anymore – which has the same dispiriting effect.

He pivots to asking her to pass on a message to the Queen; a coin that indicates he’s going to go through with his end of the deal. This is an interesting development, as although Marian isn’t told anything about how or why the Queen and Robin know each other, she’s now very well aware that they’re in cahoots. How long before Eleanor tries her hand at mending this broken relationship?

Marian returns to her bedchamber to find that Robin has left a marigold under her pillow, and while we’re on the subject of Marian, there’s at least one more important scene in this episode that equates her with flowers. While tending the rose bushes in the palace (as per Eleanor’s request that she “be a rose”) Prince John approaches and makes small talk that may or may not contain threats, warnings, promises and/or flirting. It’s significant then, that when she discovers the marigold, she chooses to burn it.

So, she’ll remain a rose for now.

Now, at this point you might be thinking to yourself: “Robin, what are you doing? The previous episode ended with every indication that you and Ralph were going to sleep together.” But no – we can’t judge him too quickly. When Robin returns to camp, it’s revealed promptly revealed that he and Ralph did not go all the way, though she’s still champing at the bit to get into his pants.

Now look. I get why she’s so into him. He’s a strong, silent young buck that saved her life in a very dramatic fashion. But now we’ve gone from aggressive pursuit to creepy clinginess, and Robin could not be more obvious in how uncomfortable he is through his body language and reluctance to talk with her.

But incredibly, Ralph keeps pushing, even after she realizes that Robin put a stop to their encounter because he’s still in love with Marian. Come on girl, please get some self-respect. Why do you want a man who openly wants someone else?

What makes matters worse is that nothing she says or does in this scene feels like anything a real woman would do to express interest in a man. Do sexually assertive women exist? Sure, but as Jadelotusflower pointed out in her thoughts on the last episode, love triangles are often used to present a character with two opposing ways of life, and at this point, Ralph feels more like a symbol of Robin’s desire for action and vengeance than an actual person. Unlike Marian, she won’t question or challenge or reject him. She’s a Saxon whose ideals align completely with his own, who gives him implicit permission to do whatever the hell he wants, and who offers him everything – support, commitment, her body – with no strings attached.

But watching people, no matter their sex, push themselves to this extent onto someone else is profoundly unappealing, especially when the conversation ends with her asserting: “we could die tonight, but if we don’t, you will take me to bed.” The hell?? This is becoming genuinely unsettling. If this scene had played out between a female Robin and a male Ralph, then the latter would be a downright villain.  

The reading of Ralph embodying the path to vengeance (which Robin is still deeply conflicted about) comes into play again later, with her words at the bonfire and Robin’s treatment of Alwyn… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

All this is preceded by the freed Saxon Elder tracking down Robin to tell him the terms of the Sheriff’s deal. In a brief scene, this old man first goes to the foresters’ village to discover Robin’s whereabouts, and we see Alwyn again – the Saxon man who sold out Hugh way back in the second episode.

To further draw attention to the importance of his reappearance, another scene has the Sheriff informing Uncle Gamewell that Alwyn was the one that betrayed Hugh, mocking him over how easily Saxons will turn on each other. I was chuffed to see this character pop up again, and that the writers were looping back to this plot-point, since Alwyn was very much treated as an important supporting character in the first handful of episodes, but – well, we’ll get there.

There’s a discussion between Robin and his closest allies about what to do next, with all agreeing they can’t trust the Normans to let the elders go if Robin does give himself up. Instead, they’ll mount another rescue mission, with Spragart revealing he knows a secret entrance to the castle (courtesy of the stonemason he was imprisoned with in the second episode – I’ll have to verify this later, but I do vaguely recall a discussion of this nature going down) and Milange offering to lead them through the passages once they’re inside.

Of course, it’s a trap. The outlaws and elders get pinned down in the banquet hall, and a pretty innovative multi-person fight scene ensues, which makes good use of the tight spaces and surrounding furniture. Naturally the mooks are no match for the main characters… at least not until Henry (Ralph’s simpleminded brother) is killed off for real as they try to escape. Why’d they think it was a good idea for him to join them on this mission anyway? No idea.

Ralph runs after Robin in anguish, Tuck scurries around in the attempt to find horses, and there’s a great shot of the Sheriff and Robin fighting on the parapets while the outlaw skirmish rages in the courtyard below:

Everyone escapes by piling onto a wagon, which somehow manages to outdistance men on horseback. Mmkay.

But it’s not over just yet. The Sheriff reveals that although they didn’t manage to kill Hood, he’s successfully planted a spy within the outlaw camp. This is a bit dodgy for two reasons: firstly that if the purpose of the trap was to kill Robin (the head of the snake), they didn’t really need to bother with a spy (though I suppose you could argue it was a contingency plan). Secondly, that the Sheriff’s men indiscriminately opened fire on the Saxons as they tried to escape; an assault which could have very easily killed his inside-man. In the aftermath, the captain informs the Sheriff that none of the prisoners were slain, though I call foul on that too.

That guy looks pretty dead to me. The spy in question surreptitiously watches Robin as they light a bonfire in Henry’s honour, and Ralph (though she is obviously grieving) decides this is as good a time as any to keep pushing by drawing a comparison:

“I know how you feel now, Rob. I see it now. I see why you are the way you are. And I want what you want. I want blood.”

In that vein, Uncle Gamewell tells Robin what he learned about Alwyn from the Sheriff, and naturally this leads to him rushing off to confront the man. But what follows is the big disappointment of the episode, all the more so because it ends what was otherwise a pretty great scene.

Robin barges into the foresters’ village and forcibly pulls Alwyn out of his hut. The man begs for his life, insisting that he didn’t know what was going to happen to Hugh when passed on information to the Sheriff. (And for the record, this is true. In previous episodes, Alwyn is visibly shaken by the fact his actions led to Hugh’s execution). As Robin readies the killing shot, another man approaches and gently calls him “Robert,” compelling him to lower his bow. There’s been too much bloodshed already; it’s time to consider a path other than self-destructive vengeance.

And then Alwyn reaches for an axe to kill Robin, and he’s shot dead in self-defense. It’s such a pitiful wishy-washy ending to what felt like a long-gestating mini-arc that should have paid off in a much more satisfying way.

I mean, Alwyn has been in several episodes so far, and the writing made a point of establishing both his motivations and his regret over what happened to Hugh. The last time we saw him, he was demanding repayment from Huntington, who seemed inclined to give it to him (though the scene ended before we could see what happened next).

Now, six episodes later, the character is brought back after not being mentioned for some time, suggesting they were setting up something far more interesting than this, especially with the ongoing themes of vengeance and its spiritual cost.

One of the reasons why Andor and Avatar: The Last Airbender are such good shows is because every character, no matter how minor, feels like a real person who exists outside the confines of the scene they’re in. This manages something similar when the second forester (who we’ve only seen a couple of times before) quietly talks Robin down. The actor delivers a beautiful little performance, only for the episode to completely negate it when Alwyn does something that’s not only a tedious cliché (grabbing a weapon while Robin’s back is turned) but also not in keeping with what we know about him (that he was essentially weak, not evil).

The worst thing is, they don’t even fully commit to what they’re trying to do. They could have had Robin show mercy and so start edging towards being something greater than just an outlaws with a vendetta. Or they could have had him kill Alwyn in cold blood, further embracing the anger and darkness inside him.

Instead they let him off the hook, satisfying neither potential development (it very much reminds me of how Tyrian was “totally justified” in murdering Shae because she grabbed a knife, and then afterwards they never mention her again). It was a big disappointment, and a weak note for the episode to end on.

Miscellaneous Observations:

An ongoing theme of this show is obviously the nature of vengeance and how easy it is to get sucked into it. On the one hand, we’ve got Tuck trying to moderate Robin’s actions. Marian embodies total freedom from the fight. Ralph (and John to a lesser extent) are enablers. Those at court – namely Queen Eleanor – are attempting to use the conflict to further their own agendas, while the likes of the Sheriff are simply trying to maintain the peace by any means necessary. Others are just along for the ride (the other outlaws) or mere bystanders (Priscilla).

It's a problem because the show has based all its narrative eggs into this Saxon-versus-Norman conflict, and Robin’s inner turmoil a question of “to fight or not to fight?” What it should be exploring is how to fight, with peaceable integration between the two peoples and a shared English identity as its end goal. I mean, that’s how it played out in real life, and despite the show’s wildly anachronistic tone, I can’t see this ending with the Saxons successfully running the Normans out of England.

But with oppression and colonization as a So Hot Right now topic, and the ongoing thematic emphasis on vengeance before all else, that potential for that other type of show feels a long way off. The outlaws still haven’t fully come together as a unified force that’s more concerned with helping those in need than destroying their enemies, and based on that final scene with Alwyn, I’m not sure the writers even realize this is a bad thing.

A note on the opening theme music: it provides an interesting contrast to the BBC’s Robin Hood, which used a loud, triumphant leitmotif to strike an upbeat tone. Here, the refrain is more suspenseful and melancholic, switching to Marian and Robin’s love theme towards the end. Though the shows have more in common than not, this one is clearly asking to be taken more seriously.

There was a lot of emphasis on dresses in this episode, particularly pertaining to Marian and Priscilla. When the latter arrives in London, she’s wearing her trademark red, which contrasts starkly with Marian’s blue (there’s no use asking for subtlety here). Later, Priscilla is also seen in blue – interestingly, in a scene where she’s clearly disoriented and looking for the Marshal.

Finally, she dons the pink dress that her new paramour gifts her, which he shows to her on her arrival (begging the question: how’d he manage to get one prepared so quickly in advance?) It’s rather more demure than anything we’ve seen her in so far, and I wonder if we’re meant to interpret it as a sincere gesture, or an attempt to shape her into someone else.

Finally, when Robin is sneaking around the castle in search of Marian, he identifies her bedroom by the dress that he sees there – a scene that initially feels rather pointless, until we realize it was how he knew where to leave the marigold.

The marigold that Marian quickly burns, though with some degree of sadness. She still wants to forget about him at this stage, and I’m glad they’re not hurrying her through her anger. Girl has a right to be pissed off.

But her friendship with Priscilla still seems to be holding fast, which I’m glad about. I’m a little unclear about whether Priscilla has put the dots together regarding Robert of Locksley and Robin Hood being the same person, not to mention the guy that Marian was gushing about all those weeks ago. I mean, she’d have to know, surely – but she seems so blasé about it in their conversation, despite her serious wound and earlier reference to him as “that devil,” that I remain a little confused.

When Eleanor discusses Prince John with the Marshal, she lifts the pawn from her chessboard, which is an interesting choice. It’s the least powerful peace on the board, and yet when taking into account John’s discussion with Marian about having “a new Queen,” it’s worth noting that if a pawn makes it to the other side of the board, it can be switched out for a Queen. Perhaps Eleanor was thinking of Marian and not John when she ponders it…

The synopsis for this episode spoiled Henry’s death, and yet because I’d forgotten that character’s name, I assumed it was referring to King Henry. I wonder if we’ll ever seen him in person.

Speaking of names, I wonder if “Spragart” is meant to call “braggart” to mind. He’s so much like Allan-a-Dale from the BBC series that I wonder if it’s another example of the creators thinking that is the traditional characterization, only to realize later it was unique to a particular adaptation and changing the name (the similarities between Priscilla and Isabella being the other one).

Uncle Gamewell’s wife Matilda was conspicuously missing from both this and the last episode, which is glaring because the show has so far been really good at keeping track of its minor characters. That said, this is the second episode in which Will has been completely absent, and I was left wondering why the Sheriff, in his attempt to coerce the Saxon Elders/flush out Robin, didn’t go after Will. Too far away? Or does he just not know that he’s Robin’s cousin?

In any case, he’s so far the show’s most wasted character, and it occurred to me during the infiltration of the castle that Milange could have quite easily been a more effective take on the character.

It occurred to me during the Robin/Ralph conversation that a lot of their interactions would have made for good Robin/Kate material on the BBC show. Kate is very like Ralph in her pushy pursuit of a man who clearly isn’t that interested, but this Robin is putting up a bit more resistance to her overtures. Of course, he’s still not doing what he should be doing, which is putting his foot down and just saying “no.”

Like the BBC’s Robin, he’s just going along to get along, with both men (subconsciously?) taking a passive stance to get rid of the hanger-on by acting like the most disinterested boyfriend of all time. The big difference here is that this show’s Marian is a living, breathing obstacle to Robin/Ralph, not a memory that the writers are determined to ignore so they can elevate their pet Mary Sue. Each woman’s narrative role is different too: Kate was largely designed to be the virtuous Betty to Isabella’s seductive Veronica, but also as the Perfect Girl (at least in theory) with whom Robin just couldn’t move on with.

In comparison, Ralph is Robin’s enabler when it comes to indulging his vengeful Saxon streak, in what I can only hope isn’t meant to be taken as a positive thing by the writers, and in deliberate contrast to the Norman Marian, with whom Robin can (at least symbolically) forge peace between the two peoples.

(This of course means that Priscilla is still the Isabella, having skipped the part when she has a torrid love affair with Robin, and dived straight into hating him).

If it feels like I’m harping on this subject too much, it’s because I’m genuinely interested in how non-Marian female characters are treated in adaptations of this legend, especially when they’re forced into romantic entanglements with Robin. In the case of Ralph and Kate, their attempts at winning his love obviously don’t work – partly by writerly design of course, but I also like to think it’s because Robin and Marian are just too iconic for any threats to their love story to feel remotely convincing.

Ralph and Kate make for interesting comparisons in this regard – not only for their relationships with Robin, but their purpose in the wider narratives of each show. In this at least, Ralph is the better character, as she does have more to do than just strive for Robin’s attention.

Despite being our main antagonist, the Sheriff remains reasonable. He insists that he tried to quell things peacefully, but that his hand was forced. That’s a fairly genuine statement, and I can see his point of view in all this. As stated, I like that he’s finally decided to start being conniving about all this, with a range of Plans A, B, and C. Round up the Saxon Elders to draw out Robin Hood. Lay a trap so he can attempt to kill his prey. Failing that, place a spy in Robin’s camp. It’s smart, solid material.

I also like the newfound trio of John, Tuck and Robin. Tuck is still very much trying to mitigate the violence that’s erupting all around him, and he and John are apparently close enough that he learns about Robin’s deal with Eleanor (loose lips sink ships, John!) John is all-in, but Tuck is obviously ambivalent about the whole situation. I suspect he won’t be thrilled about Alwyn’s death when he hears of it.

So far the best episodes have been the ones that’ve had little to no sex/nude scenes. Just saying.