In Like Flynn

I saw Errol Flynn's Robin Hood yesterday. For those of you who don't know, Errol Flynn is the hottest man alive*. He is sex on legs. He has a reputation for being a pervert, which is fine with me. He's allowed to be a pervert. He's Errol Fucking Flynn. Orlando Bloom has often been called the next Errol Flynn. No. Blasphemy. Errol Flynn is the next Errol Flynn. Errol Flynn could spank Orlando Bloom until he cried for mommy, and then when she showed up, he'd fuck her. Because Flynn is just that badass. And his thighs... (oh lord!)

..Ahem.

You all should see this movie. It's hilarious. And by hilarious I mean hilariously bad. It has atrocious music in mono and ridiculously flamboyant costumes made out of crushed velvet and metallic fabrics. Actors being hit by arrows have this comical delayed reaction before they fall over. The fencing is hammy. Marion is whiny. The love scenes are best scene-selected through. In general, it feels like you're watching somebody's LARP. I'm not a man, but if I wanted a gay sidekick, I'd have to go with a lute-playing bard who runs around in red tights and a cape.

"Will Scarlet of the Merry Men" also makes a magnificent porn name...

Ahem!

Another thing is, while the portrayals of all the characters are pretty much black and white (not literally- the film is in "Technicolor!") I can't but feel sorry for the villain, Sir Guy. If I opened the door on my fiance's maidenly bower to find her being shagged stupid by a forest brigand, I'd be pretty damn pissed too. Conversely, Robin Hood has a creepy, predatory vibe. Never mind that Marion is as stupid as a rock ("Oh look, I've been abducted by a renegade outlaw and fifty sweaty men, this isn't creepy at all") and develops a severe case of Stockholm's Syndrome ("I'm your hostage. I want you so bad. Do me now.") I get the impression that Robin Hood is a man who beats and humiliates clergy, inflicts stark terror upon many an innocent traveler, incites mobs to their worst and most bestial behavior, and toys with women like a cat with mice. Robin Hood may be a good man, but the fact that he is chaotic, unpredictable, lawless, and desperate makes him a force to be feared, like any other lord of armed men. His cheerfulness is precisely what makes him cruel- oh, let's laugh while we kill people. He may be popular and brave and charismatic, but you know, still cruel, in the end. It doesn't make him any less interesting or attractive, but it's something to keep in mind.

Wit and charm is one of the things I miss in modern action heroes. I miss Errol Flynn's silver voice, his measured inflection and its timbre. Modern action heroes, to achieve this thing known as "psychological realism," come in two flavors- Brood and Sulk. If you're lucky, they may also come in Angst and Whine. Not so our Robin. He's eloquent, articulate, smooth like water over silk. Between smiting the unjust and harassing the clergy, Errol Flynn seduces the ladies and taunts the knights, makes witty conversations and flashy entrances. He feasts, carouses, and swaggers around Sherwood forest with a giant deer carcass strapped to his back. No other hero does this. (Except for Viggo Mortensen, and Viggo Mortensen is a hippie.) If abstract traits can be concretely embodied, Errol Flynn is a towering pillar of charisma, charisma in its Platonic form, its elemental state. If there were monuments to charisma like those to liberty, a four hundred foot tall statue of Errol Flynn would grace New York harbor, possibly exposing itself to greater Manhattan. That, beyond any physical manifestation, is what Errol Flynn is.

... Not that it hurts. He wears a lace-up collar partway undone. Under it I see his glorious tanned neck, the rise of his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat, his broad, manly chest...

...Ahem.

I digress.

*by alive I mean dead.

Pictures: (all captions are mine, of course)

"Hey, crazy lady, your husband's like RIGHT OUTSIDE!"

"I'm suspended fifty feet in the air above shark infested waters. This is a great time to take a picture!"

"I can get away with wearing a polka-dotted tie. Why? Because I'm Errol Flynn!"

"I'm badass"

".. I'm only thinking pious thoughts, hm?.."

"This is my son. He's hot."

"This is my grandson. He's also hot. Where do you think they get it from? Me. Because I'm Erol Flynn."