Cinema: Rushes: Oct. 13, 1986

THE NAME OF THE ROSE

Umberto Eco’s novel was a deliciously complex academician’s joke: a multiple- murder mystery set in the Middle Ages and starring a Sherlockian monk with the mind-set of a modern semiotician. Director Jean-Jacques Annaud’s pale “palimpsest” of the novel opts instead for rolling around in the muck, blood and superstitions of primitive societies — a sort of Quest for Friar. Annaud goes about his task with the self-satisfied air of an anthropology professor shocking the freshmen out of their complacency. His reversal of the tale’s priorities dulls its point and dims the mature, intelligent presence of Sean Connery, who becomes simply a grayish figure in a gloomily familiar landscape. A movie done from the perspective of the monk’s proud, heretical mind, focusing the laser of modern rationalism on the mystery of medieval faith, would have been infinitely more interesting. And entertaining.

TOUGH GUYS

Updated Rip Van Winkle. Two old train robbers, stylishly played by Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas, are let out of jail and are forced to confront the changes — everything from light beer to gay bars — that have occurred during the 30 years they were penned up. Partly the tale is Cocoon with cojones. The ) two old poops take an even harder line with the young people who want them to act their age than the retirees in last year’s film did. Mostly, though, Tough Guys is a lot of fun, particularly when Eli Wallach, as a furious, nearsighted hit man, is on the scene. Maybe the script by James Orr and Jim Cruickshank is a little flabby around the middle, and maybe Jeff Kanew’s direction is a little wobbly on its pins toward the end, but those are forgivable, perhaps inevitable, flaws in a film about old folks.

“CROCODILE” DUNDEE

In the Australian Outback he is a Tarzan of the Mates, quaffing a few beers before going off to hypnotize the odd buffalo or save a plucky American reporter (Linda Kozlowski) from the jaws of king croc. In the urban jungle of Manhattan he is as flummoxed as King Kong — wary of escalators, bidets and soul-man handshakes — but eager to buck the odds. It is The Gods Must Be Crazy in whiteface, and ingratiating enough to make Mick Dundee (Paul Hogan) a man for all box offices. After topping E.T.’s record take in Australia, this shambling comedy (directed by Peter Faiman) filched $8 million its first U.S. weekend. Hogan is already familiar to TV viewers as the roguish spokesman for Australian tourism. Now, flashing his smile and a brisk “G’day” to Manhattan’s snobs and pimps, he could parlay Dundee into a network sitcom. Let’s see, he’s adopted by four Harlem grannies . . .