Most people know—or think they know—who Sean Connery is. Baby boomers remember his sharky, “black Irish” masculinity in Dr No and the other Bond movies, his grace at the chemin de fer table, the way he filled a Turnbull & Asser shirt and drove an Aston Martin, the way he looked at Ursula Andress coming out of the sea.
In 1960s France, intellectuals at first found him old-fashioned, a symbol of the ancien régime, but then they looked again and saw a stoicism, a latter-day Bogie or Gary Cooper, Sartre in a tux. In China he is “Seen Connollee,” adored…
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