January 12th, 2007

sam purple

as you like it

I've found another bemusing Robin Hood quote. This time our boy seems to be going a bit mardi gras:
"...about twenty five years of age, tall and elegantly formed, and of a countenance distinguished by an unusual degree of masculine beauty. His dress was green, like that of his companions; but it was enriched by a purple scarf thrown across his shoulders, and a knot of plumes of a similiar colour, which waved in his cap."
- Anon.

The secret is knowing how to accessorise. Snort. Wheeze. Titter. Okay, enough of that. It's just that I'm up to The Romatics and suddenly Our Hero has gone all Jude Law on us. No longer a Rob Roy character of open rebellion, or a bawdy figure in pagany pastoral plays, Robin has become idealised and now just pretty much Vogues it up in the mythologised forest.

Still, he is a changeable chap. What did amuse me in the early 19thC pieces was the romanticising of the land as well as the times past, and the regret for the lost forests. One writer even goes so far to note it was warmer in the middle ages and wonders if the bitter 19thC winters have anything to do with massive deforestation. Robin Hood as a poster boy for man made climate change...in 1819.

I can see that will probably be his next incarnation: Captain Forest, but mercifully not now. Robin being nice to cute fluffy animals on top of everything else I could not bear.

And sadly I suspect I'll never see the Tarantino-esque ultraviolence of the original versions of the Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne ("Stuck in the middle with you...") and The Progress To Nottingham ballads, in latter of which young Robin racks up a body count impressive even by my jaded standards. Not before the 9pm watershed at any rate. Sigh.
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