Note: please be aware. This review contains no spoilers, but there are *extremely* significant spoilers about the series readily available on wikipedia, throughout the fandom and pretty much every source you will encounter. I strongly advise you watch the series on the strength of this review alone, and avoid seeking out any more information than you have to.
My grandma had Robin Hood on record, the songs and a bit of narration, and that was my first introduction to this, the most important of the land-myths for me. For my family hail from the north, and it is there I first heard the Landweird; and Robin has always been my guardian and guide on strange ways, from when I was so very young. I think I was amazed by the fact that Sherwood Forest was somewhere I could actually go. There’s something about the myth of Robin that is pagan for the under-fives, something ancient at its very core.
Robin of Sherwood was a BBC adaptation of the myths aired in the early 80s, but with a distinctly 1970s vibe that we love here in Fencraft land. Saturday-night tea-time paganism for the kids, in which Robin establishes a messianic nature-cult anarchist-commune.
For the story of Robin is unavoidably political, and this adaptation is special for how rooted it is in the history of the era: villagers are not only oppressed by the aristocracy in the sense of class, but colonial French-speaking Norman rule. RoS doesn’t look away from the uncomfortable racist politics of the crusade against the Saracens, or the dangers faced by Jewish people. And in its class politics, Robin of Sherwood doesn’t flatten its story into a simple tale of goodies vs baddies: it’s the one adaptation, I think, out of all the ones I’ve seen which will make you angry and hopeful and ready to raise the red flag in whatever way makes sense to you.
Part of this is it’s 1970s sincerity. Like Excalibur, it does not undercut its own sense of dignity, mystery, heroism and desperation. Robin of Sherwood always feels dangerous. And yet, it is not grim and gritty for its own sake – because its earthiness and sense of rooting is counterbalanced by the figure of Herne, the ancient forest god who chooses Robin as his son: the Hooded Man. Its this particular blend, of raw class rage and historical context, mixed with folk horror and mystical elements, which makes Robin of Sherwood something very special indeed.
Everything about RoS is right. The costume design is beautiful: realistic, but with a slight fantasy edge. The direction too is something special. Filmed entirely on film (as opposed to *shudder* video), the cinematography has a dusty, faded, organic quality, with rich saturated blacks, and its depiction of magic and strangeness comes out of the psychedelic/experimental tradition. At fifty minutes, the episodes have this little bit extra breathing room – we always have time for a scene of the Merry Men relaxing and enjoying each other’s company in the Greenwood, feeding our sense of longing for an alternative way of living, closer to the land and to one-another.
The cast is exceptionally attractive. And they all bring a sincerity and gravitas to what they are doing, from hot-fuse Will Scarlett, to Friar Tuck’s trickster clergy which rather reminded me of the taoist master tradition. Bearish Little John, unafraid to cry and mellow as if he’d just wandered in from a hippy commune or drumming for a psychedelic band. At the center, Robin – who does have soft cult leader vibes, the sort of man you would follow anywhere. And then the villains are wisely characterised in their own right, their squabbling and internal tensions are often the highlight of an episode. Nicholas Grace’s camp malevolence as the Sherriff is all the pantomime villainy you could hope for, a double act with Robert Addie’s put-upon Guy of Guisborne, and often a triple-or-quadruple act with other dodgy bishops, sorcerors and satanic nuns as the series demands.
Above all, the music – by Clannad – is otherworldly, a character in its own right, setting the mood of the piece as both folky and fantasy. We had this on vinyl since I was very young, and I listened to it a hundred times and read the show-tie-in-insert over and over again. So, long before I ever watched the series, this sound and the stories were embedded in my imagination as what Robin Hood was. It’s astounding to me that I waited so long, and yet what better time than under lockdown to lose yourself in the wild places.
It’s hard to pick a favourite episode, but S2e3’s unashamedly pagan “I can’t believe I’m really watching this” Lord of the Trees is a standout, as is the S2 finale The Greatest Enemy. Which…is the very essence of myth. I’ve since found out that one of the pagans in my online social circle used to keep video copies of the series for her coven’s training library: I’m not the first person to appropriate these episodes as practical pagan lore.
Most of all, Robin of Sherwood is sitting down to watch something you’ve known all your life, so familiar and yet unknown, overcome by delight that it is everything you ever wanted in the tale of Robin Hood. And I think I need to go back and watch the series again right now.
Watch now: whole series currently available on Youtube. But you will not regret acquiring this on DVD.
Honourable Mentions
When I said to my husband that this was the only acceptable adaptation, he immediately pointed out that both Disney’s Robin Hood (“the one with the foxes”) and 90s BBC kids comedy Marion of Sherwood were also excellent. I stand corrected.
Further Reading
- We Don’t Go Back: The Swords of Wayland (spoilers)
Brilliant review of one episode in particular, putting the show into the wider context of both folk horror and 1970s culture.
Fencraft: Seekers of the Landweird 
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