Toenails

A few weeks ago I wrote a piece that lamented the fact that Josie Lawrence and Tony Slattery were no longer to be seen on our television screens. And then a mere week later Josie Lawrence popped up in the BBC’s Robin Hood. A direct hit and no mistake.

Well, folks, call it luck, call it a fluke, call it psychically synchronized schedule programming but I’ve scored a double.

Last night saw Tony Slattery also attempting a TV comeback in the BBC’s Robin Hood.

Tres bizarre.

Have I got the televisual Midas touch? Have I got the power of the Mysterons over the casting department at the BBC?

Well, hey, let’s put it to the test shall we? If there’s anybody you’d like to see on TV – or to be precise in Robin Hood – then leave a comment and let me know and I’ll see what I can do…

Personally I’m still working on having Lucy Griffiths appear in nothing but a Cornish fishing net but I’ll be happy to make room for other requests too.

As for Tony… well it was both a pleasure and a tragedy to see him back on TV. The poor man looked dreadful. Disturbingly over-weight – though he was never a svelte ballet dancer – and eyes sunk further than the Titanic. Karen assures me it was just heavy eye make-up but personally I don’t think the Robin Hood make-up department are that good.

It’s plain he’s been ill and that’s sad to see but let’s hope that this outing is the start of a major health and career recovery. Though being shot in the man-boob by Robin Hood can’t have been good for his cholesterol.

Yes, there was death and carnage a-plenty in last night’s episode. Tony’s Canon of Birkley was punctured by Robin but only after he’d skewered Marian’s father, Edward, on the end of his jewelled dagger. Ooh the cad.

Personally I think this was a good move on the part of the writers (and it’s not often I agree with their plot decisions) as it frees Marian up to join Robin in the forest and pushes their burgeoning romance a little further down the road to soft pornography. Did I say soft pornography? I meant to say family centred fulfilment. Ahem.

For the Robin Hood nerds among you, you’ll no doubt have noticed that last night’s episode doffed it’s cap to not one but two episodes of it’s forerunner Robin Of Sherwood. The story of a young man coming to rescue his love from the evil clutches of the Sheriff was redolent of the "Alan-A-Dale" story in the first series of Robin Of Sherwood and the scene where Edward sneaks into the Sheriff’s bed chamber to steal the keys to ye olde safe was a salute to "Seven Poor Knights From Acre". It’s good to see the writer’s acknowledging Richard Carpenter’s far superior series…

Lastly folks, my favourite anachronisms from last night’s episode:

1) John of York’s protestations that he only had 10 shillings to his name. Shillings? Shillings? Surely the coin of choice in the 1100’s was the mark?

2) Robin and his merry men all wearing cowboy hats and duster coats as their latest disguise. “I say Gisborne, have you seen Robin Hood creeping about the castle?” “No Sheriff, but I thought I saw Clint Eastwood and Clyde the Monkey poking about your oubliette…”

Yes…

Much really needs to get rid of those ginger sideburns…

Twang!

I have a theory that the BBC’s Robin Hood series exists solely for me to have an outlet onto which I can vent my thrashing spleen on a Sunday morning.

Now I know in the bigger scheme of things the portrayal of the Robin Hood legend on our TV screens is really quite small, pimply and inconsequential. But for me it is the Holy Grail. I feel about Robin Hood the same way some of my discerning readers feel about Doctor Who – and I don’t just mean that I want to see Billy Piper running around Sherwood Forest in a skintight t-shirt and g-string… Although given the horrendously anachronistic nature of the show such an event would not surprise me in the least.

My trouble – and I fully recognize and accept it – is that I am coming from a place where Richard Carpenter’s Robin Of Sherwood has been crowned king, festooned with laurel leaves and placed in the pantheon of the gods. In fact I've written about my devotion to this show previously on this 'ere very blog.

Robin Of Sherwood was gritty, brought a new realism to the legend (leaving aside the frequent references to magic and psychic abilities of course – ahem) and had a warmth and on screen camaraderie that helped cushion me through my rather bleak, nerdy teenage years. It’s a hard act to follow. And I recognize and accept this also.

But you’d think that the BBC would at least TRY!

I mean come on chaps! In last night’s opener Robin and “his gang” (Robin’s new catchphrase apparently – who the hell is he modelling himself on? Gary Glitter?) had a bit of rough and tumble with a “military unit” – Robin’s words (how very post modern) – who were all wearing army berets and looked like they’d all stepped straight out of Sandhurst.

Berets! In Sherwood Forest? In the 1100’s? I was waiting for Frank Spencer to leap out from behind one of the trees… ooh Robin, I’m ‘aving a little bit of trouble with me quiver…

But there was more. This gang was led by the suddenly arrived Sheriff’s sister who had obviously modelled herself on Honour Blackman from The Avengers. All heaving bosom, black leather cat-suit and blonde hair flung suggestively over her shoulder like a cat-o-nine-tails… and she possessed the ability to disguise herself with latex based make-up (which didn’t smudge her carefully applied eyeliner or lip gloss one iota).

Latex! In Sherwood Forest? In the 1100’s?

Sadly she was killed off right at the end. Death by large python. And I’m not referring here to Robin’s impressive pork swordsmanship. Of which we happened to see very little…

Which is a shame because the sparks between Robin and Marian are one of the few things the show’s writers have actually got right.

According to the Radio Times’ write up this new series will see a raunchier, sexy Marian – tighter outfits and lower cut tops… thigh length boots and safety-pin dresses… lots of frolicking in moist haylofts with large vats of ice cream on standby. Yes, alas, I am making that last bit up – but I must admit I find the costume based inaccuracies centred around Lucy Griffiths far more palatable than the Gap bought hoodies that mantle the merry men or the Duran Duran biker jacket that turns Sir Guy of Gisbourne into an eighties throwback. Call it hypocrisy if you must but I prefer to see it as an attempt by me to cast a more charitable eye over the show. To give it a chance. To give it a fair go…

Ok. Ok. I’m just a sucker for a brunette than can high-kick a guy in the knackers and hang upside down from a roof beam.

Anyway, despite all the above – or maybe because of it – I keep on watching the show. So I must acknowledge that there must be something about it that I like. And if I was being tortured with hot knives and root vegetables I would I suppose admit that I sort of, kind of, find it all somehow enjoyable. Annoying. Inaccurate. Historically comic. Frequently ridiculous. But nevertheless enjoyable.

There’s a massive romp element to the show and that, at least, is true to the nature of the Robin Hood legend. There. One box ticked. Happy now BBC?

For those of you that care my very hissy reviews of the first series can be accessed here and I will be reviewing the episodes of this second series with a regularity that can only be described as obsessively perverse…

The Hooded Man

Without any sense of shame I am happy to admit to being a true devotee of Robin Of Sherwood and have managed to get my boy successfully hooked on the show too. Which is great because ITV3 are currently rerunning every episode of this wonderful series on weekday evenings.

They have currently progressed to the Jason Connery era when Michael Praed’s dark looks were shockingly replaced with the dazzlingly bright blondness of Mr C. Sad to report, at the time, I was deeply traumatized by the death of Michael’s Robin and can remember my young burgeoning self being quite resistant to Jason’s attempts to step into the lead hero role.

Even to this day, for me Michael Praed’s character is still THE Robin Hood. He managed to portray a quiet yet strong individual, confident but not arrogant in his leadership who had a natural and unerring sense of right and wrong. His latent psychic abilities were another string, as it were, to his impressive bow. Jason’s Robin on the other hand was far more ordinary: from a privileged background his sense of right and wrong was more politicized and so somehow less personally motivated. I also thought Jason was just too gawky and awkward in his portrayal of The Hooded Man for it to sit comfortably with me. This from a gawky, awkward teenager! What a cheek I had.

Looking at them now, even though Michael Praed is still streets ahead, I have to confess that I think poor Jason Connery suffered unfairly from the inevitable comparison. I recall that even the media didn’t really take to his version of Robin and the series was dropped after his first and only outing. This was greatly unfair because it’s now plainly evident that he was growing into the role and slowly making it his own.

Anyway, it’s no good crying over the demise of a show that occurred 20 years ago... but it is interesting to compare Richard Carpenter’s Robin Of Sherwood (Richard Carpenter wrote the show) with the BBC’s recent Robin Hood adventure series.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I took the Beeb and the makers of Robin Hood to task on many issues on an almost weekly basis. The massive plot holes... The glaring departures from recorded history... The gargantuan anachronisms... All served to undermine what had obviously been a very expensive show to produce. The Beeb had certainly lavished money on the show... onto everything in fact but decent writers.

Robin Of Sherwood on the other hand was very low budget – they only had two cameras for the entire 3 series run! - but Richard Carpenter’s writing was rich beyond price. Every story was carefully crafted. They didn’t rely on gimmicks or lightning fast editing effects. The costumes looked unquestionably of the period and I cannot recall one single anachronism or historical inaccuracy ever blighting the show. Even in 2007 the show is far superior to the BBC’s ill thought foray into Sherwood forest. It is the benchmark that others have still yet to reach.

Huge budgets are great but lead to laziness. Gimmicks date very quickly...

But good writing remains forever so.