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Robin of Sherwood was initially screened at the optimum time for me - I was a young boy and hopelessly in love with it. For the time - the early-mid 1980s - it was a lavish production, especially by British standards, and a great deal of care had gone into it. At the moment I'm rewatching the entire run. It's being screened on ITV, where perhaps it's consigned to endless repeats, and once again it's wonderful. Sure, there are elements about it that are dated - Robin of Sherwood is nearly forty years old now and, like anything from so long ago, it's technically not up to the level of more recent offerings - but it remains an important and charming effort, and here are some reasons why I recommend it without reservation.

Its background drew in some of the best of British television talent. Sidney Cole, who came armed with a back catalogue including numerous historical dramas, Ealing movies and the excellent Man in a Suitcase series, was on production duties. Richard 'Kip' Carpenter was its main creative force. With Dick Turpin behind him, Kip was already well versed in writing historical dramas, and a retelling of the Robin Hood legend was next on his agenda. But how to tell an old and already countlessly adapted set of myths in a fresh and vital way?

Robin of Sherwood is set in the saga's traditional period, during the interregnum between King Richard I's Crusades and the ascension of King John. England is portrayed as a largely corrupt and morally bankrupt backdrop. The Normans are firmly in charge, the rest of the realm under their heel, and greedy overlords like the Sheriff of Nottingham exist to exploit the masses and grow fat and rich. The church, that other great power broker of the time, is shown to be grasping after land and pursuing its own secular interests. The people need a hero, someone to fight for them, and along comes Robin Hood, ready to steal from the rich and give to the poor.

So far so good, all the things you've seen before, but the real masterstroke of the series is to add mythical elements to the Robin legend. One of the character's longstanding traits, that he's a returned Crusader whose titles and estates are taken from him by the unscrupulous authorities, is excised. Here, Robin is an orphaned noble's son, who via a string of adventures emerges as the leader of a group of disparate outlaws. He's taken on as 'the Hooded Man, champion of oppressed people and made the son of Herne the Hunter, linking him to ancient, pagan woodland gods. This is good stuff, hinting at antique English traditions that linger in the mind, long after the country has converted to Christianity, and is permitted by the church providing the people continue to get their children baptised and remain more or less in line.

In its first two series, Robin is played by Michael Praed, virtually an unknown beforehand and growing in authority and command as he took on the role. Wooed away by Broadway and a part in American soap Dynasty, both ill-fated career choices, it turns out, Jason Connery was then recruited to play the noble-born Robert of Huntingdon who throws his lot in with the outlaws. It wasn't quite the same, and these comments will focus mainly on the Praed era, bookended by his origin story and his character's epic end in the final episode of Series Two. Aspects of Praed's appearance betray the show's dated look - Robin has beautifully conditioned hair (perhaps the waters in Sherwood ran with Timotei products) and is ever clean-shaven - but these are quibbles and can be overlooked within the context of its efforts to present contemporary England in as accurate a way as possible. Everything looks poor and resolutely medieval. The villages are mud huts, straw roofs and rudely designed wagons. Even Nottingham Castle, the acme of high living, is dirty, smoky, and domestic animals run free along its corridors.

The merry men develop a fine sense of camaraderie and genuine affection for each other. They're led by Clive Mantle's Little John, Phil Rose as an earthy Friar Tuck and a young, Scum-era Ray Winstone playing the rebellious Will Scarlett, each line barked through gritted teeth as he poses a constant challenge to Robin's authority. Another unknown, Judi Trott, plays Marian as the archetypal English rose, falling in with Robin's crew as her lands are squabbled over between nobles and the church. And then there's Nasir, marking the first appearance of a Saracen fighter as part of the crew. Another anachronism - he's played by a Yorkshireman, Mark Ryan, and barely speaks because doing so means he would need to get to grips with his character's Middle Eastern dialect.

Ranged against them are a set of authority figures that are beautifully drawn. Give me Nickolas Grace as the Sheriff any day. Smart and politically astute, but perpetually bored and sarcastic, he's wonderfully played. It seems his wardship of Sir Guy of Gisburne (Robert Addie) is more a curse than an honour. The sword-happy yet air-headed Gisburne is a constant disappointment, abusing his position by bedding local women ("another unhappy accident, Gisburne?") and riding roughshod over the locals. In these stories, Gisburne is doomed to be ever two steps behind Robin and it's no different here, though Addie contributes to the fun by mentally being no match for the wolfshead.

RoS is beautifully filmed, depicting Sherwood as an earthly paradise, all lush greens and thick leafy cover for the outlaws. The Irish band Clannad provide a soundtrack that uses contemporary instruments and breathy vocals, and ensures the show sounds nothing like the usual orchestral overtures the accompany the action.

Is it the best adaptation? I am a fan of the 1938 Errol Flynn movie, but few efforts look or sound quite like this one, taking its time to develop the characters and outline the social and political backdrop against which the action takes place. It was a big success, however producing it was a costly affair and ultimately it was cancelled when its financial backer, the production company Goldcrest, ran out of money thanks to some commercial movie flops. We're left with three series, which draw in supernatural elements, myths and legends from England's storied past, and tells us something about the medieval time period. Some episodes are better than others. On occasion it steals from other sources, for instance ripping off the conclusion of Raiders of the Lost Ark in a yarn that otherwise tells of atrocities against the Jewish population. Elsewhere, I can't recommend the two-part The Swords of Wayland highly enough; it pits Robin, often on his own, against devil worshipping nuns who machinate to summon none less than Satan back to Earth. It's gripping storytelling, highly suspenseful, and it was shown in full to a no doubt gripped audience back in 1985.

Watched now, especially against the BBC series from the 2000s, its class and complexity shines through. The latter drama has its good points, even if it serves as an offering to fill in the Doctor Who slot, but it pales against this version, which draws far more faithfully on the England of the time and makes a sincere effort to suggest what life was like, Robin of Sherwood provides a background in which a legendary character like the Hooded Man would be both necessary and retain his romantic goodness during retellings through the ages.

At last, a musical biopic that doesn't throw in cheap references, nor equally cheap laughs, and instead gives us a sober, realistic and not always warm character study of the formative years of one of Britain's best loved singer-songwriters. But be warned - if you have no interest in Steven Patrick Morrissey, indeed if you have a passing love for the band and aren't too bothered in learning how he came up with the lyrics that he did, then much of ENGLAND IS MINE might not do a lot for you. This film is definitely one for the proper fans, and for those of us in that position it's a real treat.

Lots to love about this one. Jack Lowden might not look a lot like Morrissey but he gets across very well the sense of alienation and perpetual disappointment that surrounds our hero. He's bored and unfulfilled with every aspect of his life, feeling like there's something more out there and yet too shy and not forthcoming enough to go after it. That lack of belonging is something many young people experience - I know I did - and Morrissey is kind of the Dean of that time in life, and Lowden nails it. His friendship with Linder (fantastic Jessica Brown Findlay) shows him finding a rare kindred spirit, and he reacts to the lost chance of success he arrives at briefly with Adam Lawrence's Billy Duffy by doing what we would all like to and retreating to his bedroom.

The period detail is excellent - you get the vision of late 70s/early 80s Manchester as a bit of a dive, crammed with lost souls and angry voices, from which Morrissey feels entirely apart. Lovely touches, like the cracked, single pane windows upon which rain hammers, add to to reality.

The choice of musical numbers is another bonus. There are no Smiths tracks, given the tale essayed here takes place before the band was formed. Instead we get the 1960s songs that heavily influenced the group's sound, and that's a real bonus. The era before the Smiths existed really feels like another place, another time, bereft of something that they ended up filling. One nice bit of detail, the local venue that exhibits posters for an upcoming Duran Duran concert while Morrissey and Marr (Laurie Kynaston, not in it much) start hammering out the more localised and altogether grittier music and lyrics that would eventually form the Smiths, a great snatch of visual storytelling that the film stuffs in.

And if you aren't interested in that, there's the gallows humour of young Mozzer to enjoy, an acerbic wit that would put people off and yet find expression in his words put to Marr's tunes.

ELEPHANT WALK's plot is essentially that of Daphne Du Maurier's REBECCA. Elizabeth Taylor plays a new bride, plucked from London to be the mistress of an enormous tea plantation in Ceylon (modern day Sri Lanka). Her husband, Peter Finch, blends into his old role as plantation Governor, in thrall to his dead father and the influence of his colonialist friends. The nights are spent drinking to excess as Taylor simmers in the bedroom, wearing a series of alluring nightgowns to be appreciated by nobody... Nobody, that is, apart from Dana Andrews's jaded plantation manager, destined to be the third point in the film's love triangle.

Taylor is a fish out of water in her massive new home, the palatial Elephant Walk, so called because it was built by Finch's father right in the path of the route the elephants took to reach water. The symbolism here should be clear enough. The elephants want their path back and are stopped in their attempts by Finch's army of retainers, until a bout of cholera cuts down their numbers... Finch has a Mrs Danvers style manservant, who worships the old Governor as though he's still alive, not remembered a little too closely via his ostentatious mausoleum in the garden and his old study, which is locked at all times.

Finch is fine as the boozy, weak willed lead, trapped by memories of his father and drinking to forget. Andrews plays the traditionally stolid American male presence, but it's Taylor's vehicle and despite being a little miscast (she's a bit too forthright to play a demure bride) stands out through sheer force of personality. The role was initially Vivien Leigh's, and some footage of her can still be seen in several long shots; sadly ill health removed her from the project.

The film is essentially a pot-boiler, elevated by the Sri Lankan photography, the set built for the Elephant Walk 'bungalow' and a good cast, also the fact that any movie directed by William Dieterle can never really be boring. But it would have been better with Vivien Leigh, the star whose mental health problems removed her from a project that was made to fit around her. In her hands it would have been quite a different and potentially more interesting and definitely more complicated film, whereas with Ms Taylor its female presence is played straight and the script's sympathies - which really should lie with Finch's tragic daddy's boy - get lost.