The sheer barking madness of this fantasy time-travel adventure from co-writer Gregory Widen and director Russell Mulcahy, now on re-release for its 40th anniversary, can best be described as Terry Gilliam meets James Cameron. The chiselled features of its Franco-American star Christopher Lambert – a kind of VHS Marlon Brando – are a minor source of diversion on their own and his Scottish accent has to be heard to be disbelieved. And Celia Imrie’s small role as the sexy but duplicitous 16th-century Scottish villager seals the deal on Highlander’s cult status.
Forty years on, this depends more than ever on appreciating its trace of deadpan black comedy. Highlander’s wacky story concerns Connor MacLeod, smoulderingly played by Lambert, a fiery young warrior in the Scottish Highlands in the 1530s, who appears to have been killed during a war with the opposing Fraser clan. But he comes back to life, leading the excitable community to think he’s possessed by the devil. Driven out of the village, his only ally is his great love Heather (Beatie Edney), but the couple are astonished to encounter what appears to be an effetely dressed Spanish nobleman, played by Sean Connery, who incidentally displays in this film some very useful horsemanship. He informs Connor that he is one of a secret race of immortals, a disclosure which Connor receives coldly: “You look like a woman, you stupid haggis!”
But Connor has no choice but to accept his destiny, living on through the centuries. He fights a duel in 18th-century Europe, and during the second world war saves a child from the Nazis, who grows up to be Rachel (Sheila Gish), his secretary in an antiques business he runs in present-day New York under the name of Russell Nash. Every 40 or 50 years, he has to keep changing his identity using misappropriated death and birth certificates, meaning that Highlander can be added to the long list of movies and books who have borrowed Frederick Forsyth’s fake ID scam from The Day of the Jackal.
But NYPD officer Brenda (Roxanne Hart) has figured out that something is off about Mr Nash, who is preparing for a grand showdown with an evil immortal called the Kurgan, played by Clancy Brown; like Connor he is a great swordsman, and immortals can only be killed by being beheaded. The film’s galloping silliness never lets up, though it is perhaps an acquired taste: those who can’t indulge it may find themselves reminded of Quentin Tarantino’s belief that the 1980s were one of cinema’s worst decades. But those who can indulge it will find it uniquely quirky, funny and eccentrically ambitious.