In 1986’s The Name of the Rose a series of murders at a mediæval monastery are investigated by a Franciscan monk (a cusp-of-comeback Sean Connery) and his youthful apprentice (a cusp-of-stardom Christian Slater). Connery is excellent; his career was at a low ebb here yet it remains a puzzle how an actor who now seems so quintessential to cinema culture could ever be considered dead in the water. This may have to do with some questionable choices in the 70s and 80s – Diamonds Are Forever, Zardoz, Never Say Never Again – but he projects as much droll charm, tightly-wound energy and quiet intelligence here as he ever did as 007. Indeed, his character William of Baskerville has a touch of Bond; the dry wit, the love of gadgetry – combined with the ratiocination of Sherlock Holmes and the scholastic mystery-solving of Indiana Jones.
Also boasting a cast of impeccable character actors to complement its stars – F. Murray Abraham, Ron Perlman, Bond villain Michael Lonsdale – and a ruggedly handsome European setting that equally complements its stars, The Name of the Rose is perfect Sunday night viewing, more old-school Hollywood-style entertaining and far less dry than its joyless mediæval setting may suggest.
Adapted from an Umberto Eco novel given to lengthy disgressions on philosophy, history and theology, this was one in a long line of instances of Hollywood filming novels deemed “unfilmable”: The French Lieutenant’s Woman, American Psycho, Watchmen, Dune. Some critics – those who had read Eco’s best-selling but intellectually ambitious novel – derided this version for filtering out almost all of Eco’s philosophical, theological and historical digressions to focus on the core murder mystery plot, but, in fairness, Arnaud anticipated these criticisms: the film’s opening title bills it as a “palimpsest” of Eco’s novel, the term referring to mediæval documents, written on vellum, which would be wiped away, a new document written over the old, but the original words would sometimes remain legible beneath. Those seeking intellectual rigour may perhaps be better served elsewhere, but the entertainment value of Name of the Rose is difficult to pass up.
One curiosity with this release is that the print of the film used appears to be a German one, perhaps since through Constantin Films, this is technically a German production. It’s of no importance, since the audio track is still in English, unless you’re really dismayed that the job titles in the end credits will be in German. Additionally, there is a 43-minute featurette (“The Abbey of Crime: Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose”) here in German, with English subtitles – this featurette, produced for German television at the time of release, contains much footage from the time of filming but, frustratingly, English-speaking talking heads receive spoken translations in German which must then be subtitled in English.
The other extras include two commentaries; one with critic James Marsh and one by director Jean-Jacques Arnaud. Critic and director both are breezily talkative, with Marsh counting the film among his all-time favourites and Arnaud offering much in the way of philosophical digression, on-set anecdotes and general good spirit. Arnaud returns for the first interview included on the disc, entitled “Charm of Humanity”. A characteristically cool and charming Christian Slater speaks in “A Boy and his Dog”, and the mighty Ron Perlman is in heavily anecdotal mood on “Bringing the Mustard” – Perlman counts Name of the Rose among the best of his nearly three hundred credited works. Writer Andrew Birkin speaks in “Liquidating the Disk” with a certain austere good humour very appropriate for Name of the Rose‘s screenwriter.
★★★☆☆