Sir Sean Connery dies at age 90.
A little conflicted about this one. Obviously he was the iconic Bond who cast a long shadow over all who followed him into the role. And he was such an accomplished actor that he could play any nationality - from English to Irish to Spanish to Russian - with a Scottish accent, and no one cared. But he was also an unabashed misogynist and self-confessed abuser.
This is one of those moments I guess where you separate the man from his works and celebrate the latter while decrying the former.
In order to enjoy the creative process and the results, I’ve had to seperate the art from the artist many times. It’s a thin line to walk and often hardly justifiable. You have to live with yourself. He was from a different era. I loved so much of his work. Today I’m gonna watch two of my favorite non-Bond movies, The Man Who Would Be King and Highlander.
I’m torn between watching Last Crusade or Hunt for Red October today.
Or maybe Celebrity Jeopardy.
Let me put in a good word for the utterly ridiculous but highly entertaining The Rock.
While I’m a YUGE Bond fan, his best performance may be The Untouchables.
I’ve never heard that story before, but that is magical.
Red October vs Untouchables
He brings a knife, you bring a gun
The Times obit today reminded me of several other great non-Bond Connery movies: namely Robin and Marian, Marnie and The Name of the Rose. But I must insist, if you’re into spy flicks and haven’t seen The Russia House get thee to a streaming service and enjoy. It’s a John le Carre novel adapted for the screen by Tom Stoppard, which puts it into the elite company of The Big Sleep (in my book) as far as fortuitous collaborations of amazing talent go (that noir classic being adapted from a Raymond Chandler novel by no less than William fucking Faulkner). And, unlike his admirably acted role in Untouchables, which is a bit of a caricature, Connery’s character is fully fleshed out, complex, unexpected, and completely real.