Sean Connery's Unexpected Admission: Did He Really Tank This 1964 Crime Thriller?
Imagine this: You're fresh off the fame of becoming the world's most iconic secret agent, and you're itching to prove there's more to you than just shaking martinis and quipping one-liners. That's where Sean Connery found himself in 1964, just two years after exploding onto screens as James Bond in 'Dr. No'—a role that launched one of Hollywood's longest-running sagas and turned the Scottish actor from a nobody into a household name (check out how 'Dr. No' cemented Bond's legacy here). By then, he was on the brink of delivering what many still hail as one of the greatest Bond adventures ever, 'Goldfinger,' hitting theaters in September of that year. But before that cinematic high point, Connery dived into a crime drama that critics absolutely shredded—a film called 'Woman of Straw' that bombed spectacularly. And get this: Connery himself later owned up to its shortcomings. But was he being too harsh on himself? Let's unpack this intriguing tale of ambition, blame, and behind-the-scenes drama that might change how you view star-studded flops.
First off, to set the stage for beginners in film history, 'Woman of Straw' was helmed by director Basil Dearden, who had a solid track record. Just four years earlier, he'd directed 'The League of Gentlemen,' a brilliant heist flick that's often ranked among the all-time best in that genre (for more on top heist movies, see this roundup). Dearden teamed up with his longtime producer partner, Michael Relph, for two films under United Artists, and while their 1960 heist caper was a hit, 'Woman of Straw' couldn't replicate that magic. Adapted from Catherine Arley's French novel 'La Femme de paille,' the movie pitted Connery against the glamorous Gina Lollobrigida in a story of greed, deception, and murder—think of it as a melodramatic puzzle where motives twist like a bad plot turn.
In the film, Connery plays Anthony Richmond, the cunning nephew of a dying millionaire, Charles Richmond (portrayed by the legendary Ralph Richardson). Charles is set on donating his vast fortune to charity, but Anthony has zero interest in that plan. He ropes in Maria Marcello (Lollobrigida), an Italian nurse, proposing a shady scheme: she'll marry Charles to snag the inheritance upon his death, with Anthony pocketing the bulk and Maria getting a cool $1 million for her role. Sounds straightforward, right? But here's where it gets controversial—Anthony betrays Maria by poisoning his uncle and then tries to pin the murder on her. It's a classic tale of double-crosses and dark intentions, designed as a suspenseful thriller. Yet, when it premiered, critics panned it hard, calling it outdated and uninspired. For instance, Eugene Archer from The New York Times described it as archaic, mocking the irony of Bond himself starring in a 'type of old-fashioned thriller he usually mocks.' Even at the premiere, Archer noted Connery didn't seem thrilled, hinting the actor sensed the disaster brewing.
Connery, ever the candid one, didn't hold back in a 1965 Playboy interview (as documented in 'The James Bond Dossier'). He admitted he saw the flop coming, attributing it to his own mistakes. 'When "Woman of Straw" was shot down, I wasn't entirely surprised,' he said. Digging deeper, he blamed his relentless work schedule—juggling multiple projects—and his attempts to suggest script rewrites while filming another movie, which he called 'deadly.' It was a learning experience, he vowed, one he wouldn't repeat. This self-blame makes sense because, at the time, Connery was eager to shake off the Bond image. Playing 007 was a blessing that skyrocketed his career, but it also typecast him as the suave spy (explore how Bond was a double-edged sword for him in this piece). In 'Woman of Straw,' he took on a villainous role to show his range—a scheming manipulator instead of the heroic agent. Unfortunately, the film felt like a regression, and Connery internalized that failure.
But here's the part most people miss: Is Connery really the villain of this story, or were there bigger forces at play? And this is where it gets intriguing—because while he pointed fingers at himself, the production had its own share of headaches. In 'The Cinema of Basil Dearden and Michael Relph' by Alan Burton and Tim O'Sullivan, accounts reveal a 'difficult shoot' with Lollobrigida reportedly being 'demanding and temperamental,' leading to clashes with Dearden and Connery. On top of that, Connery was overworked, trying to tweak the script amidst chaos. Plus, the movie inevitably drew comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock's thrillers—critics were merciless, with the Monthly Film Bulletin suggesting it needed 'a touch of Hitchcock to sharpen suspense.' It's like comparing a homemade cake to a gourmet pastry; sometimes, the expectations are just too high from the start.
To put this in perspective, consider how Connery's next thriller fared. Right after 'Woman of Straw,' he starred in Hitchcock's own 'Marnie' (adapted from Winston Graham's 1961 novel), which bombed initially—Archer from The New York Times was skeptical there too. Yet 'Marnie' has since been reappraised as a Hitchcock masterpiece, beloved for its psychological depth. 'Woman of Straw,' on the other hand, hasn't enjoyed the same comeback, but it's not the total disaster critics made it out to be. In that same Playboy chat, Connery expressed happiness with 'Marnie' (with some caveats) but clear disappointment in 'Woman of Straw.' He owned the blame, yet perhaps he deserved a break—after all, a rocky set and unfair comparisons can sink even the best intentions.
So, what's the takeaway here? Sean Connery's willingness to shoulder responsibility for 'Woman of Straw' shows a humble star reflecting on his craft, but it also sparks debate: Should actors take full blame for a film's flop, or are production issues like diva co-stars and critical preconceptions bigger culprits? In an era when star power can make or break a project, it's a reminder that success isn't always in one person's hands. Personally, I wonder if critics were too eager to knock it down as a 'pale imitation'—could it have been ahead of its time, or was the script doomed from the rewrite struggles? And you? Do you think Connery was right to blame himself, or should we give more credit to the director and crew? Have you seen 'Woman of Straw' or similar underrated thrillers? Share your thoughts in the comments—let's discuss whether self-blame is fair in Hollywood's high-stakes game!
