We are Robin Hood

It’s funny how we attach emotional significance to things. I am always trying to caution myself against placing more value on a thing than it is really worth… and yet I do find, with art especially, it is often not the thing itself but the fabric of my life into which that thing is intertwined that makes me sentimental. All this to say I am going to blog about a television show today. A ridiculously campy anachronistic piece of fluff… that made me very happy during its three series of broadcasts.

Last night I plopped myself on the couch with a heavy blanket, my current ritual of hair curling rags, and a cheesily appropriate goblet of mead as I watched the final episode of BBC’s Robin Hood. It was a somewhat satisfactory denouement. No, it wasn’t brilliant. Had it been, I doubt I would have enjoyed it.

Robin Hood has always been a favorite legend. It was one of my favorite Disney cartoons, and actually still is one that I can stomach without nausea. But I didn’t really pay a whole lot of attention until the summer after 9th grade when the Kevin Costner film was released. I saw it four or five times in the theater and then wore out the video. Not so much because I adored the on and off again accent of Robin, but because Christian Slater was Will Scarlet. The movie ignited my curiosity about castles and England, setting me on my journey of fascination with the medieval period, leading me to Higgins and an experience that is forever interwoven into all parts of my life.

So maybe it was sentiment for Higgins… or the brilliant summer when I directed that play… but I started watching this hokey series on BBC America three summers ago. It didn’t hurt that one of my favorite British actors played the villain and was enough distraction to forgive the ridiculous costumes. Then again the ridiculous costumes were the best part of the fun when my viewing stopped being a solitary activity.

  There were spontaneous gatherings in my apartment with takeout or drinks, laughing over the absurd plot… or ogling the eye candy. Two Thanksgiving weekends we had a marathon of the series over beef stew, banoffi pie, and lots of wine. All to aid our laughter over Marian’s housefrau costumes, the absurd technology, and the soap opera style sneers to the camera. A silly, caloric filled two days when we laughed and used the show as a backdrop to conversation and card making and the company of one’s friends.

I even took my fascination with this show so far as a day trip to Nottingham when I last went to London. There was an exhibit on the show… which was all right. But it gave me reason to go to Nottingham and learn that lace is actually one of their bigger products. Who knew? 

So, yeah… it’s just a show. Not the highest quality of writing. And if you are looking for historical accuracy, forget it. Just a lot of good, whole-hearted BBC camp. I enjoyed it, in spite of the fact it jumped the shark, came back, and then really took a stupid leap in the end. But I enjoyed the ride, especially when I had the laughs of a few good friends with me.

I hope there will be another marathon (they did redeem themselves after last season’s finale, friends). I enjoyed watching this last episode with my glass of mead, to have a small chuckle at the dopey ending, and a few moments to reflect how it brought laughter and happy memories outside of Sherwood Forest into my life.