Behold, the Royal Underpants! (Maid Marian And Her Merry Men - Series 1 (DVD))

Member Name: andrewl

Product:	Maid Marian And Her Merry Men - Series 1 (DVD)
Date:	31/08/09 (37 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Perfect slice of childhood pie

Disadvantages: They really don't make them like this any more

Maid Marian and her Merry Men was the brainchild of British comedian Tony Robinson. In many respects, the show was a children's version of historical comedy Blackadder. Not only did Tony Robinson play Baldrick in that legendary comedy, but Maid Marian uses the same basic premise of taking modern attitudes and sensibilities and transposing them to a period setting. This basically allowed Robinson to lampoon targets like the Royal Family, uh, the Monarchy and, oh yes, the Royal Family.

The set-up is fairly simple. Robin is a complete coward who the Sheriff of Nottingham believes is a fearsome outlaw warrior. After the introductory episode, Robin lives with the Merry Men in the heart of Sherwood forest. However, it is Maid Marian who is the real brains of the operation, constantly bullying her apathetic amateur army.

Apart from Marian and Robin, there are three other Merry Men. In a predictable twist on the legend, the Little John character is played by a little person, the ferocious Little Ron. Friar Tuck becomes Rabies, a simple funny fat man (NB: If you look closely at the fight scene between Little John and Robin in Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves, Rabies is one of the jeering spectators. I thought that was a really nice touch). Finally, there's Barrington. Played by Danny John Jules of Red Dwarf fame, Barrington is the narrator, introducing episodes through what the BBC probably thought was rap.

Tony Robinson has also given himself the best part in this comedy, the Sheriff of Nottingham. An odious little man with a funny beard, he generally runs around with two Norman soldiers, Gary and Graham, while reporting back to the splenetic King John.

Maid Marian and her Merry Men ran for several series, and eventually went into an inevitable decline. But the first season's greatness was incontestable.

How the Band Got Together, the first episode, does exactly what it says on the tin. Barrington introduces the village of Worksop in a dodgy but enjoyable rap-style. The villagers are forced to eat mud thanks to the despotic King John, but they dream of a freedom fighter who will come one day to free them. Barrington and Rabies are both arrested by the Sheriff on spurious charges. Before Rabies is arrested, however, there is a bizarre accident whereby Marian's beloved pet tadpole ends up lodged in his nostril, leading Marian to plan a jailbreak. She takes Robin hostage to ward off the Sheriff. Robin is underpants designer to the King, apparently. Little Ron is guarding a bridge in the forest, and is recruited to Marian's cause after knocking Gary and Graham into the small ditch.

The first episode acts as a great introduction. The main location of Sherwood Forest and Worksop would remain unchanged throughout the series (it was actually filmed in Exmoor, North Devon, where I used to go on holiday). While much of the humour is juvenile (not that that's a bad thing in my opinion), it is surreal enough to appeal to adults as well. While a tadpole being stuck up someone's nose is unlikely to provide fabulous comedy for someone over the age of ten, the position of royal underpants designer is one which remains with me almost twenty years after first seeing the show.

How Robin earned his nickname 'Hood', is fairly predictable, but the final scene in the Forest, as the band come to terms with their outlaw existence, is perfection. Edwina the tadpole is finally liberated from Rabies's nose, but with 'hilarious' consequences.

Robert the Incredible Chicken picks up where the first episode ends, with King John and the Sheriff terrified of Robin Hood, the freedom fighter. So they arrange an archery competition which will be familiar to anyone who's seen any other version of the Robin Hood legend.

The only problem is that Robin is utterly inept. Not only is he an absolute coward, but he's a hopeless archer. The scene where Marian tries to teach him to shoot is priceless:

'Check that the shaft of the arrow is nestling comfortably in the palm of the hand,' Marian instructs Robin as he draws back the string. Whereupon Robin opens his palm to check, releasing the arrow straight into the air. It's very uncomplicated humour, but the timing is absolutely perfect.

A Game Called John is set around Pancake Day (Shrove Tuesday), King John is concerned at Robin Hood's popularity, and decides he has to become popular himself. The Sheriff, on a pancake-free starvation diet until he solves the problem, decides that the King should invent a game to ensure his reputation improves. The game is to be called John, and some of the false starts leading to its invention are fantastic, such as the Sheriff dumping the balls over the King's table, and looking crestfallen as they simply roll on to the floor. The Sheriff eventually hands the game over to a peasant he's insulted and called 'Stinker' throughout the episode. The final exchange between the two is predictable again, but still funny thanks to great timing:

SHERIFF: 'Here's a game we invented. You can call it 'Stinker' if you like. (Leaves)
STINKER: (Shouts) My name's not Stinker! (Sulkily) It's 'Snooker'!

Snooker remained a regular character until the show's end. And the green fabric intended for the John tables also finds a very obvious home.

And so on and so forth, until the spectacular final episode of the first season, The White Knight. Or should that be The Whitish Knight? We have seen so many versions of the Robin Hood legend where Good King Richard returns to pass judgement on John's villainous regency. What form will that judgement take, however, in a show that does not seem to be exactly enamoured of Britain's ruling class? How far has the apple fallen from the tree? Probably my favourite series finale ever, and that includes the episode of Star Trek where they turned Captain Picard into a Borg.

The appeal of Maid Marian is in its simplicity. Most of the humour is based on slapstick, as you'd expect in a children's comedy, terrible puns and the transposition of contemporary attitudes that I mentioned earlier (a later episode even featured a twelfth century telethon). All of these appealed to children tremendously on its initial broadcast and ensured the show's popularity for many years. High production values made the program enjoyable for adults, with the detailed, muddy Worksop set, as well as the strong acting performances.

And bizarrely, it seems in some ways more realistic than the enjoyable tosh the BBC have been presenting us with for the last three years. This is one Maid Marian who you don't wish would get brutally stabbed (come on, who else cheered?)...

Summary: Robin Hood, Men in Tights, but funny...