Having garnered a cult following full of excuse-making couch potatoes, this lazily anachronistic airball is one of the more contemporary of Mel Brooks' films, though you'd almost not realize it by watching. Indeed, it reveals how little Brooks' comic manner has evolved over time. The film is a send-up of the 1991 Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, on top of shreds of countless other Robin Hood films. Most of the gags were moan-inducing when this film was new and they haven't enhanced with time. Do names like "Ahchoo" which is invariably followed by "gesundheit," and "Sheriff of Rottingham" amuse you? Jokes bank on an inherent surprise element, to put it very reductively, and if an audience is subjected to it a bunch of times uninflected or it's so obvious that children who still play in sandboxes could have written the same gag, there's zero surprise, scarce laughter and even scarcer joy.
Unlike Blazing Saddles, where Brooks does actually utilize such postmodern self-conscious gags to timeless effect, that's as if the same man couldn't have made both movies. This parody, which barely qualifies as such, is unimaginative, worn-out and weakly written. And while one might be swift in pardoning Brooks by observing that he wasn't to blame for conceiving the story, no medieval mobsters held any silly handgun-shaped crossbow to his head. He ran right beside J.D. Shapiro and Evan Chandler on the screenplay, then said the words "Roll camera," when he should've only ever screamed "Cut!" Spaceballs was a major step down for Brooks, though it was still thick with gags, both funny and flat. But this one has even more brainless lines, and also less. There are lingering sections where it just plays like another version of the Robin Hood film rotation. That's definitely the case with the scene in which Robin gallantly enters the castle of Prince John and cuts short his banquet with the Sheriff of Nottingham. Except for the joke of having Robin carry a dead boar to his "hosts" instead of the king's deer, the Flynn version gives off far more humor and liveliness. That's also the case with the archery contest, in which Robin disguises himself to vie for Maid Marian.
I was astonished, basically, that someone didn't sever Marian's hand and brandish it as the actual prize. That very sort of shallow dumb-pun humor mechanism is both on auto-pilot and overdrive in this sad state of a great comedian's affairs, whether it's one of the few welcome gags, a reprisal of the "walk this way" gag in which everyone imitates the way that the Sheriff saunters, or a confounding pathetic "lend me your ears" plea that becomes the obligatory occasion for all the peasants yanking them off and tossing them to Robin. It's purely unfunny. "Watch my back." "Your back just got punched twice" is a little funnier, but it didn't take much effort or inspiration to hit upon those jokes, and that's the prevalent trouble with this film.
Sporadic lines can be amusing, as when Robin, about to leave the Crusades and return home, meets a black warrior who says he has a son in England, a son who's head strong and cock sure, or is it the other way around? Roger Rees as Sheriff of Rottingham delivers the most laughs. The next most are during a scene in which Dom DeLuise makes a cameo as Don Giovanni in a longed-for off-the-wall slider of a Godfather burlesque, you find yourself laughing quite a lot, but also at this point surprised to be doing so. Alas, when the blind Blinkin asks, "Did you say Abe Lincoln?" and the reply is "No, 'Hey, Blinkin,'" one cannot help but agonize over why Brooks and his writers thought it would help to kill the already desperate joke by redundantly appending such an already obvious punch line. Same with a jailer who's dressed like a maitre 'd and tells Robin he cannot seat him without proper attire, then puts a false beard on Robin. This means you also have to question if some of these gags might've fared better than increasingly depressing dead air had Brooks poked and played with them more. But this is such a lethargic, idle film that takes every path of least possible resistance, and dilly-dallies too long to do even that.
Unlike Blazing Saddles, where Brooks does actually utilize such postmodern self-conscious gags to timeless effect, that's as if the same man couldn't have made both movies. This parody, which barely qualifies as such, is unimaginative, worn-out and weakly written. And while one might be swift in pardoning Brooks by observing that he wasn't to blame for conceiving the story, no medieval mobsters held any silly handgun-shaped crossbow to his head. He ran right beside J.D. Shapiro and Evan Chandler on the screenplay, then said the words "Roll camera," when he should've only ever screamed "Cut!" Spaceballs was a major step down for Brooks, though it was still thick with gags, both funny and flat. But this one has even more brainless lines, and also less. There are lingering sections where it just plays like another version of the Robin Hood film rotation. That's definitely the case with the scene in which Robin gallantly enters the castle of Prince John and cuts short his banquet with the Sheriff of Nottingham. Except for the joke of having Robin carry a dead boar to his "hosts" instead of the king's deer, the Flynn version gives off far more humor and liveliness. That's also the case with the archery contest, in which Robin disguises himself to vie for Maid Marian.
I was astonished, basically, that someone didn't sever Marian's hand and brandish it as the actual prize. That very sort of shallow dumb-pun humor mechanism is both on auto-pilot and overdrive in this sad state of a great comedian's affairs, whether it's one of the few welcome gags, a reprisal of the "walk this way" gag in which everyone imitates the way that the Sheriff saunters, or a confounding pathetic "lend me your ears" plea that becomes the obligatory occasion for all the peasants yanking them off and tossing them to Robin. It's purely unfunny. "Watch my back." "Your back just got punched twice" is a little funnier, but it didn't take much effort or inspiration to hit upon those jokes, and that's the prevalent trouble with this film.
Sporadic lines can be amusing, as when Robin, about to leave the Crusades and return home, meets a black warrior who says he has a son in England, a son who's head strong and cock sure, or is it the other way around? Roger Rees as Sheriff of Rottingham delivers the most laughs. The next most are during a scene in which Dom DeLuise makes a cameo as Don Giovanni in a longed-for off-the-wall slider of a Godfather burlesque, you find yourself laughing quite a lot, but also at this point surprised to be doing so. Alas, when the blind Blinkin asks, "Did you say Abe Lincoln?" and the reply is "No, 'Hey, Blinkin,'" one cannot help but agonize over why Brooks and his writers thought it would help to kill the already desperate joke by redundantly appending such an already obvious punch line. Same with a jailer who's dressed like a maitre 'd and tells Robin he cannot seat him without proper attire, then puts a false beard on Robin. This means you also have to question if some of these gags might've fared better than increasingly depressing dead air had Brooks poked and played with them more. But this is such a lethargic, idle film that takes every path of least possible resistance, and dilly-dallies too long to do even that.