The Name of the Rose

** out of ****

If Sherlock Holmes and Waston had been Franciscan monks during the time of the 14th century Spanish Inquisition, they would have been exactly like the carefree William of Baskerville (Sean Connery) and the naive Adso of Melk (Christian Slater), and their Moriarty would have been the devious nemesis Bernardo Gui (F. Murray Abraham). This slickly-produced murder mystery, in which William goes so far as to say, “That’s elementary, my dear Adso,” isn’t so much an homage to Holmes as it is a relocation of the immortal Doyle characters. This certainly isn’t cheating: Since the Basil Rathbone-starring Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon placed the Victorian-era detective in World War II, who’s to say that filmmakers also can’t take him backwards in time as well?

In my review of The Seventh Sign, I gave a description that I think pretty accurately sums up The Name of the Rose: It “is one of those bizarre supernatural thrillers from the late 1980s. … The soundtrack consists of classical choirs singing in Latin. The good characters are unbelievably pure in heart, and usually have very pretty faces. The evil characters all have deep, sunken-eyes and distorted, Burton-esque hair styles. The entire film seems to exist in a Poe poem, as it exploits strange, twisted camera angles that are surrounded by demons waiting in the shadows.” This film doesn’t stray from this creepy, often peculiar filmmaking style, but unlike The Seventh Sign, it uses it well in a way that does not overwhelm the story.

Unfortunately, it is in the story that The Name of the Rose crumbles. It is unfocused, boring, contradictory, and tries too hard to rely on the charisma of Sean Connery as an ancient Holmes instead of telling a coherent tale. It leaves subplots unresolved and goes for cop-out showdowns, all the while hoping that Connery’s whimsical performance as a cocky, detective monk will be enough to redeem any faults. To be fair, Connery is a widely charismatic actor who can do wonders with lousy writing, but I still prefer watching him do wonders with good writing. There are times when he almost saves The Name of the Rose, but he ultimately cannot. The film is never quite able to find its footing as either a Sherlock Holmes murder mystery or as a period piece, and it ends up being pretty forgettable as both.

That’s a pity too, because it starts off with a bang. Baskerville and Adso are two monks who travel to a Benedictine Abbey that serves as sort of a drafty, damp outpost on top of an isolated mountain. I would take the time to describe both characters, except that they are, as I have said, such clear recreations of Holmes and Watson that these are the only descriptions needed. Like Holmes, Baskerville is witty, observant, and humorously aware of his absolute genius for uncovering secret clues and solving unsolvable mysteries. Adso, like Watson, hasn’t got a clue about much of anything, but he sure does like to watch his mentor/friend at work.

The two monks discover that a series of murders have taken place at the Abby that point to the work of the antichrist. Baskerville is not impressed with these prophetic, apocalyptic signs and suspects that conspiracies a little less supernatural are at work. On the other hand, he is also aware that he is dealing with monks so isolated and obsessed that they won’t be able to accept anything less than the work of the devil: He sadly notes, “The only evidence I see of the antichrist here, is everyone’s desire to see him at work.” Nevertheless, feisty Grand Inquisitor Bernardo Gui, a former colleague of Baskerville’s and now his enemy, is determined to let ignorance rule and burn every last suspected devil-worshipper in the village, forcing Baskerville and Adso to uncover the truth before innocent blood is shed.

Director Jean-Jacques Annaud is clearly attempting to make The Name of the Rose work on two different levels: On one hand, he tries to make a revealing film about the nature of priests and monks during the time of the Inquisition. There are certainly monks like Baskerville and Adso who embrace laughter and love and philosophies from all around the world. Most monks, however, are like the inhabitants of this gloomy abbey: They condemn pleasure of any kind, including laughter and non-theological books, and spend their days in dark corners whipping themselves for repressed sins, which include forbidden sexual thoughts.

The other aspect of The Name of the Rose is, of course, the murder mystery, in which an ancient Sherlock Holmes tries to solve secrets surrounding unexplainable crimes. No one wants to believe his theories, and it is up to him and his sidekick to work against the system to uncover the true identity of the murderer.

Both of these plotlines could make for an inspired movie in the hands of a more focued director. Sadly, Annaud does not develop either idea fully. The dark, demonic atmosphere and the often hideous appearances of these two-faced monks are right on target, and the performances are inspired, especially Connery’s as an urgent, philosophical man who takes joy in his ability to see the truths in secrets so logically that it makes everyone around him seem like beings of inferior intellect. But the murder-mystery premise has so many loopholes and unexplained elements that we quickly get lost in the plot. Characters are introduced and dropped with little rhyme or reason, and once the true villain is revealed, his motive is so preposterous that the climax deflates.

The subsequent showdown between the close minded Grand Inquisitor Bernardo Gui and Baskerville also strikes a wrong note that is simply too clichéd—I had a feeling that if this had been a modern day detective movie, Baskerville would have laid down his badge and walked out of his chief’s office, followed by every detective in the room. In addition, a voice-over narration by an older Adso, another nod to Watson’s narration in Holmes’ adventures, is inserted into moments where it does not fit, and it consequently squashes the film’s momentum by distracting us from the main action.

The overwrought sermons on the Inquisition’s hypocrisy are also underwhelming. They eventually boil down to long speeches via Baskerville, where he insists that the monks are close-minded and repressed of free thought. But by the time these scenes come, Annaud has made this point so obvious that Baskerville is merely preaching to the choir. I also must take odds against the inclusion of a graphic sex scene between Adso and the “Village Girl” (Valentina Vargas), which begins the development of a subplot so underwritten that the scene simply comes across as gratuitous. I'm not generally wary of graphic sex sequences in general, but if a director feels the need to include something of this nature in a film where it really doesn't tie into established themes, he has an obligation to explore its motivations outside of its obvious eroticism. This one comes out of nowhere, and it goes nowhere. The same can be said of the movie itself.

Cast:
Sean Connery: William of Baskerville
Christian Slater: Adso of Melk
F. Murray Abraham: Bernardo Gui
Michael Lonsdale: The Abbott
Elya Baskin: Severinus
Valentina Vargas: The Girl
Ron Perlman: Salvatore

Twentieth Century Fox presents a Cristaldifilm production. Directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud. Written by Andrew Birkin, Gérard Brach, Howard Franklin, and Alain Godard, from the book by Umberto Eco. Rated R, for images of violence, nudity, and graphic sexuality. Running time: 130 minutes. Original United States theatrical release date: September 24, 1986.