Felonious Monks and Furious Egos: one of the best films you’ve probably forgotten.
The Name of the Rose (1986) took over four years to make and faltered several times before it finally ascended to cinema screens. Casting a washed-up action star was a long shot that nearly crucified the film’s finances but the decision turned out to be a blessing in disguise. What we ended up with is an absolutely cracking film that resurrected the career of its saviour.
But, before I lay out the evidence, I should take a tip from all good murder mysteries and give you a bit of backstory first. Which means I need to talk about Sean Connery.
Not 60’s era “shaken not shtirred” Connery. Not even the hairy, barbarian Connery of the 70’s. I’m talking about the ’83 Vintage: the “I moustache you a question” Connery who’d become a parody of himself as Roger Moore cartoonishly stole his thunderball.
By then, Connery was low on hair, cash, good judgement and affection for the Broccolis. All of which probably contributed to his interesting decision to put on a black wig and heavy makeup for a knockoff James Bond production. But dressing 53 year old Connery in the exact same gear as he’d worn at 30 did him no favours: he was starting to look a bit rough for a smooth super-spy. So, after Never Say Never Again, he said “never again” to Hollywood and stomped back to the UK for an extended sulk. That ended a couple of years later when he took roles in a couple of smaller European led productions, presumably with the intention of remaking himself as a more serious, independent actor.
Highlander and The Name of the Rose came out in 1986, both European productions and both filmed back to back in 1985. Highlander, despite an initial faceplant, ended up with a cult following when it was released on VHS – so much so that a sequel was demanded, then immediately regretted, by fans.
The Name of the Rose was a French/German/Italian production and the director, Jean-Jacques Annaud, didn’t want 007 in his passion project that he’d been working on for the past four years. Connery had to audition for the part but won Annaud over and was hired – a decision which directly led to Columbia Pictures refusing to finance a period movie starring the “old James Bond”. But, despite the setbacks and Connery’s seemingly moribund career, the roles he filmed in 85 opened up a whole new vista for him. Ramirez in Highlander and William of Baskerville are very different roles with one small thing in common. Age and experience.
Somewhere between a swashbuckling Egyptian-Spanish immortal and a twinkly medieval detective-monk, Connery figured out what he’d been needing to do. Get rid of the wig, drop the unnecessary effort and lean into the ageing. Be the man with experience, wisdom, gravitas and just a touch of swagger – who doesn’t need to prove himself, but just is.
Which is – kind of – the whole thing about Connery. Because honestly (and I’m saying this with all due veneration) he didn’t actually act.
He just showed up and was so fundamentally himself that reality just.. rearranged itself around him. He WAS Sean Connery, Man of a Thousand Voices playing Italian, Spanish-Egyptian, Lithuanian, Greek or Irish characters in an unchanging Scottish brogue that really shouldn’t have worked. But it does.
1986 was the year the world finally witnessed his Connaissance. (Yes, I know the term’s lifted but, considering the alternative was Transit-sean, I think it’s alright, alright, alright.)
All of that turbulence and drama just dovetailed into The Name of the Rose which is a gorgeously gritty film in its own right. A medieval murder mystery, with monks dying in suspicious circumstances. Annaud stripped Umberto Eco’s novel down to a cracking detective story that still manages to retain some very clever stuff happening around the edges.
And Connery, as we now know, is magnetic in it: sad, dignified, twinkly, funny, paternal. The role gave him a breadth of character that let him stretch his legs in ways Bond never did – and lets you realise you’re watching someone who’d been underused for a decade.
Part of the magic comes from the electricity between Connery’s William of Baskerville and Bernardo Gui – played by F. Murray Abraham (a year out from his Oscar win for Amadeus). Connery and Abraham loathed each other almost immediately. Abraham called Connery an old idiot, while Connery literally petitioned to get Abraham kicked out of SAG. And both felt the need to pull rank – so much so they started playing trailer chicken and showing up late on set because neither wanted to wait for the other one. Annaud described it as “like being in a playground.”
But it renders gloriously on screen. Abraham is a method actor who prepares. Transforms. Inhabits. And he is deliciously contemptuous, menacing and villainous. Connery’s approach is very different – using the method known as “Be Sean Connery. But more so.”
And somehow, that difference – which drove them both to distraction with each other – ended up creating a perfect dynamic of two enormously talented, enormously egotistical people trying to act each other off the set. William becoming twinklier and sadly-nobler by the second as Gui reacts with horror and revulsion at this man who dares question the sacrosanct. They exchange furiously intense stares, every micro expression screaming quiet contempt for the other, both of them demanding every. single. millimeter. of the freezing German monastery that struggles to contain both their personalities. And somewhere in that mix a slightly overwhelmed – and very out of his depth – 16 year old Christian Slater tries desperately not to get crushed between the irresistable force and the immovable object of their respective presences.
It’s one of those films that is objectively good but, more than that, it’s just *fun* to watch. And, I’ll confess, that it sparked something in me that wasn’t entirely comfortable as a teenager. Late-80s era Connery – with the silver hair, the peppery stubble, twinkly eyes and a commanding physical presence.. definitely cracked open the “silver fox” door that, at the time, I wouldn’t have admitted to under torture – but became a lot more interesting as I got older. (The same door that Pop’s been nonchalantly leaning against for a couple of years now, needing a bit of a nudge to saunter through).
Back in the 80s, Connery made me see how attractive a man can be with experience, knowledge and rugged twinkly eyes that’ve seen the world and can find the humour in the mess. From Highlander through the ridiculously good Untouchables to Last Crusade and Hunt for Red October (where he stole the entire film from a young, beautiful Alec Baldwin just by existing in the same frame) – that’s an extraordinary run of films and yet he dominates the screen in all of them. I mean, I had to watch Red October twice before I even noticed Sam Neill was in it.
But Name of the Rose did something that hadn’t been done before. It took a rough-looking Sean Connery who was desperately to hold onto his youth and turned him into something infinitely better – just by giving him the opportunity to demonstrate what he’d become. And it was also one of the few films my murder-mystery-obsessed mum and I wholeheartedly agreed on… which still unnerves me a little.
If you haven’t seen it, you really should – and it’s streaming in a few places. Go watch peak Connery being peak Connery, Abraham chewing medieval scenery like his life depends on it and Christian Slater getting a masterclass in acting. Or at least, what that looks like when two men who *know* they’re the best thing in the room, refuse to blink first.
– Mom