Penitenziagite!: Rewatching The Name of the Rose

set the Blu-ray player in motion at dusk. Inside was my as-yet unplayed Blu-ray disc of The Name of the Rose, Jean-Jacques Annaud's 1986 "palimpsest of Umberto Eco's novel", i.e. – film. The idea was that it would be dark outside by the point the film's heroes, William of Baskerville and Adso of Melk, were plunged into the mysteries of the abbey. My timing was pretty good as the light was all but gone from the sky as the pair was wandering the snowy hill where the body of Adelmo of Otranto had been found.

If memory serves, I first saw The Name of the Rose back in 1990 or '91 when my roommate went on a mini Sean Connery marathon and rented it on VHS from Four Star Video. I fell in love with it instantly. The DVD was certainly an upgrade from videotape but the movie portrays a world lit by fire and the old NTSC television standard just wasn’t up to the task of accurately reproducing all of the film's textures of light and shade. While nothing will match a fine 35mm print of The Name of the Rose, I figured the Blu-ray would at least be leaps and bounds ahead of previous home viewing methods. And so it was.

As expected, the picture was much sharper and more detailed. While the film was intentionally made with an emphasis on drab colors and has a kind of grainy, dingy look befitting the time and place, lighter colors seemed a little more brilliant while the shadows were darker and contrasted more with the candlelight. I didn't notice any digital artifacts, though I wasn't actively scanning my TV screen for them. In short, I've never seen the movie look so beautiful. But I still want to see it on the big screen on film!

A large part of why I adore this movie so is that I am enamored of the European Middle Ages. Here it is the Late Middle Ages – 1327 – and you've got a bunch of monks venerating books with the passion of Barry in High Fidelity, just less ostentatiously. But, instead of revering Led Zeppelin and Echo and the Bunnymen, these monks cherish their St. Thomas Aquinas and Aristotle. Especially Aristotle. I suspect I enjoy medieval history in large measure because I can see my world underneath all of the superstition and behind the Christianity. Yet it is also foreign and exotic. And that tension is something I find fascinating and addictive.

Another thing I enjoy immensely is a good mystery and there are multiple ones here. Who killed whom? What are the various characters hiding? To describe the film as a Sherlock Holmes tale set in the Middle Ages is an oversimplification but not wholly inaccurate. Umberto Eco's novel also has the whodunnit elements but also much, much more.

The skeletal plot is thus: A Franciscan friar named William of Baskerville, played by Sean Connery, and his novice, Adso of Melk, a young Christian Slater, arrive at a Benedictine abbey where a group of their fellow Franciscans are to debate a Papal delegation on the matter of Christ's poverty. This was a real bone of contention in the 14th century and Wikipedia says it was known as the "theoretical poverty controversy". Shortly after they arrive, William notices a fresh grave in the abbey's cemetery and he is told that an illuminator, Adlemo, recently died under mysterious circumstances. And so William investigates his death and concludes it was a suicide. But another monk, a translator of Greek named Venantius, is found dead, his corpse in a vat of pig's blood. William is now investigating murder.

The movie hews to the murder investigation much more closely than the novel which gives many pages to the debate surrounding Christ's poverty and matters of the Church more generally. Eco was a semiotician so the book dedicates many a page to signs and symbols. One scene that I loved when I reread the book last year was when Adso stands before a doorway and ponders the arch and the art and the inscription for 4 or 5 pages. Still, while the movie doesn't go into the history in depth and can only dedicate so much time to the themes the book elaborates upon at length, I think Annaud elevates them above being mere baubles.

As movies go, The Name of the Rose probably portrays the early 14^th century more realistically than any other. Or, at least as realistically. As noted in the October 1986 article about the film in American Cinematographer magazine, "Every prop, every piece of furniture, every book in the film was handmade in Italy." When William uses his glasses to inspect an illustration on the desk of one of the scribes, that gold leaf is the real deal. And the monks who inhabit the monastery are a genuine grotesquerie with their tonsures, moles, missing teeth, cataract-ridden eyes, exceedingly pale complexions, and so on. Most of them are vulgar in one way or another. Add in a few dwarves/little people and you get this weird Fellini-esque vibe.

As would likely have been the case in 1327, the abbey is populated by men from various part of Europe and beyond. Malachi, the head librarian, is played by the German actor Volker Prechtel. Here Prechtel's chiseled features, his large nose, and a thin, U-shaped bit of unkept hair all conspire to give him a stern countenance. So, when William tries to gain access to the library, his curt replies consisting solely of "No" in a German accent just come across as extra sinister. It's a little thing but just so effective and memorable.

Home video releases have no deleted scenes and I have heard nothing about material being excised from the shooting script but I had to wonder if there is material on the cutting room floor. Early on when the Abbot goes to William's cell to greet his new guests, we see him fiddle or clutch the rather ostentatious gold cross he wears around his neck. And Annaud makes sure cinematographer Tonino Delli Colli gives us a close-up of the large ring he wears as Adso kisses it. I think the book makes more of the wealth the Abbot displays – he's hosting a debate on Christ's poverty, don't forget – and I am curious if this scene is just a brief nod to the debate or if scenes involving the Abbot and his valuables were edited out or perhaps scripted but never filmed.

In my latest viewing I finally noticed a flub. At one point William and Adso are in the scriptorium looking at the desk of Venantius, I believe. William finds a scrap of paper with some Greek text and notices an odd smell about it. He deduces that something was written on it in lemon juice so he places the paper above a candle or lamp flame so the heat induces a chemical reaction and makes the citrus symbols visible. Later in the film, William presents this scrap of paper to the Abbot as evidence to show motive for the murders. But William exposes the hidden text again by placing the paper near the flame when it should already be there.

I've been listening to the film's soundtrack by James Horner recently and it is wonderful. I love the choral voices, the pulsing bass notes, the chime-like sounds, and the drone of what I suspect is a hurdy gurdy. So I paid special attention to the audio portion of the movie on my recent viewing. It is notable how often there is no music and we are left with only diagetic sounds. When someone tries to drop a large stone on William as he and Adso stroll the abbey grounds, the novice catches site of the threat and pushes William out of harm's way. They then give chase. But there is no music attempting to heighten the action, just the sounds of footfalls on wood and grunts. The audio portion here is spartan and realistic as well as wholly appropriate and effective.

At times the volume goes up to jolt the viewer such as when a sotto voce conversation between William and the Abbot concludes and we immediately get the loud squeals of a pig being slaughtered. Sacred sounds tend to be in hushed tones while the profane blare like Gabriel's horn. But the audio dynamics are also used to illustrate the difference between the abbey's inhabitants and outsiders. For example, there is William's joyous outburst when he and Adso steal their way into the library. Not only is it loud, but it is a laugh, something that we know Jorge would disapprove of immensely.

Foley artists were kept busy because most scenes have creaky wooden floors or just some part of the environment making noise. Add in voices speaking Latin and/or people speaking English with an accent and it just creates a wonderfully rich, evocative, and polyglot atmosphere.

And the characters here are so very fun. The monks and friars that are the least bit significant all have distinct personalities, countenances, ways of speaking, and so on. For instance, there's William's fellow Franciscan, Ubertino of Casale, with a deep, slightly raspy voice who draws out syllables so that most of what he says has a melodramatic quality to it. Berengar is overweight, unnaturally pale, and I think the only time we hear his voice is when he screams in a very feminine manner. I just love how the film makes the monastery out to be this menagerie of humanity.

One thing that didn't occur to me until my recent viewing was just how densely packed the film is with information. I was reminded of JFK and how Oliver Stone was constantly throwing evidence and conspiracy theories at the viewer. Here several characters and their motivations have to be presented even if just to make them a suspect. We see Berengar lustfully gaze at the young Adso while Malachi's steely eyes throw shade at William. Annaud has William explain some things to Adso while brief cutaways show us people's facial expressions that impart even more information. And because so many monks are not leading the pious life prescribed for them, there is much indeed to tell the viewer.

While it doesn't have the glacial pace of a Tarkovsky film (I mean no offense to the Russian auteur), The Name of the Rose moves slowly as did life in a medieval abbey, I suppose. The murder mystery takes centerstage but there's also Adso's young lust for the girl who lives in the village outside the abbey. Yes, it presents an opportunity for a salacious scene but her character also provides motiviation for Adso and helps illustrate that the clergy don't always view the laity with vos estis sal terrae in mind. And there's the debate about Christ's poverty. In addition, we have William's rationality competing against his faith. Yes, these topics yield to the mystery but there is a lot to be had here.

Watching The Name of the Rose should be an annual rite for me although it is currently more of a biennial thing. And, having read the book last year, methinks I must now rewatch the mini-series from a couple years back. But first I shall listen to the BBC audio drama adaptation.