Robin Hood
(1973)
Wolfgang
Reitherman is responsible for my favourite Disney
animation, The Jungle Book, the last
picture Walt Disney was involved with before he died and which, despite being relatively
unadorned in comparison with the lushness of the studio’s animations of previous
decades, is blessed with superb design work, wonderfully catchy songs (without
equal in the Disney canon) and a marvellous voice cast. While Robin Hood, released five years later,
can boast another strong vocal complement, and the occasional decent showing in
terms of character design (stand up Robin and Prince John), it’s sadly an
inferior beast, too often brought down by the tatty, underfunded nature of
Disney animations at that point, which it has no choice but to wear on its
sleeve.
As a
youngster Robin Hood ranked as one of
my favourites, probably thanks more to the Nestlé chocolate bars
adorned with its characters than its actual content. Reitherman would go on to
the better-received The Rescuers
(itself indebted to 101 Dalmations
for its main villain), which even spawned a sequel, and his work as a director,
spanning Dalmations, The Sword in the Stone, and The Aristocats is, depending on where
you are coming from, either a vibrant, hipper and more colourful Disney,
eschewing the reverence inflicted on the previous couple of decades of fairy
tale adaptations, or a tail-off from their golden age. I’m definitely in the
former camp, as the period is the closest, barring perhaps The Emperor’s New Groove, Disney has strayed towards the more
anarchic Warner Bros attitude.
Originally
an adaption of the escapades of French fox Reynard was entertained, until he
was decided as a touch too problematic, and Ken Anderson provided design work
for Robin Hood that reportedly
brought him to tears when he saw what Reitherman had done with it. Certainly,
some of the elements here lack a certain something. The Sheriff of Nottingham
was to have been a goat, but ends up a rather bland wolf. I wouldn't have known
Friar Tuck was a badger without being told. Perhaps this is because he was
originally envisaged as a pig, but the idea was kyboshed for fear of causing
religious offence. Little John, like Baloo voiced by Phil Harris, isn’t the
bear of his Jungle Book forbear, despite
several memorable scenes, and Sir Hiss, although lent the marvellously
memorable tones and gap tooth of Terry-Thomas, is a rather lacklustre piece of
design, again diminished by how well his Jungle
Book counterpart Kaa turned out.
Robin,
voiced by Brian Bedford, is agreeable and dashing in a very modern-mannered
manner, announces off the bat he and John aren’t bad thieves (“We never rob. We just borrow a bit from
those who can afford it”), and appears to run a two-man outfit (budget cuts
extending to the inhabitants of Sherwood Forest, it seems) while Maid Marion (Monica
Evans) is something of a fox.
But Robin
Hood only catches fire when Prince John and Sir Hiss are centre stage. John,
a lion, sublimely brought to life by Peter Ustinov, has a yen for taxes (“Taxes! Beautiful lovely taxes!”) and the
apt phrase (“Forgive me a cruel chuckle”).
And also a curiously endearing capacity for thumb sucking whenever his mother
is mentioned).
As The Jungle Book
indebtedness thing goes, Sir Hiss even indulges in a spot of hypnotism. He also
has some relishable lines (“A mere slip
of the forked tongue, your majesty”) and at one point turns himself into an
aircraft, enveloped by a balloon, his tail acting as a propeller.
Highlights
include the fortune-telling heist of the King’s money train (for which Robin and
John don drag) and the archery tournament, which vibes heavily on The Jungle Book, what with characters in
disguise (Robin as a stork, John as gentry) and fraternising with the enemy
(John’s Sir Reginald, Duke of Chutney, proves an instant hit with the King, at
Sir Hiss’ expense). In between, the picture is curiously formless; one might
charitably call it freewheeling, but listless would be more apt.
The tunes,
while they have their ardent defenders (as does the picture itself, from a contingent
who also grew up on its idiosyncratic charms), and have experienced a
significant afterlife, don’t do a whole lot for me (The Phony King of England is catchy, while Roger Miller as minstrel
rooster Alan-a-Dale is well-employed in his time-filler introduction, which
reuses animation to be seen later). Apparently, the casting of actors best
known for westerns (Patt Buttram, Andy Devine, Ken Curtis and George Lindsey)
was down to an earlier consideration that Robin Hood would take place in the
Old West. Which means it would have got in there with a revisionist take long before
Sir Ridder’s Robin Hood (which also
re-wrote its reinvention into a more traditional form).
Following
on from such behind the scenes changes, if the climax feels rather abrupt that
would be down to the excision of the original ending for being too dark.
Officially. This was more likely down to budget constraints, since the picture had
already fallen prey to animators tracing out sequences from The Jungle Book, The Aristocats and Snow White
and the Seven Dwarves for a dance number (although, in the interest of
balance, reusing animation from earlier Disneys was common to Reitherman’s
pictures). Robin Hood also used various
alumni from earlier Reitherman outings. Alas, an all-animal line-up (no humans
feature) doesn't prevent cutesiness from infesting the frame, in the form of
soppy wee ickle bunnies.
Because of
its readily identifiable similarities with The
Jungle Book, I’m always inclined to see Robin
Hood as deserving to sit in its company. Alas, while the voice cast
includes some of the most formidable presences Disney has utilised, and the
picture as a whole is part of a looser, freer and easier, stylistic era, it never
amounts to more than the lightest of frolics, with little in the way of purpose
or trajectory. Perhaps, if the Disney execs had held the animation division in
any regard at the time, it might have ended up a much-celebrated classic.
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