John Milius is a name that usually conjures up images of Arnold Schwarzenegger swinging a broadsword or surfers waiting for the Big One in Big Wednesday. But in 1975, he gave us something much weirder and infinitely more charming. The Wind and the Lion isn't just another dusty historical epic from the mid-seventies. It is a loud, sweeping, unapologetically romantic adventure that feels like it was filmed in a different century. Honestly, they don't make them like this anymore because, frankly, the lawyers and the sensitivity readers probably wouldn't let them.
It's 1904. Morocco. A Berbe chieftain named Mulai Ahmed er Raisuli decides the best way to embarrass the Sultan and annoy the Western powers is to kidnap an American woman and her children. Enter Sean Connery. He's playing an Arab leader with a thick Scottish accent, and somehow, it totally works. You just stop caring about the linguistics because his charisma is a force of nature. Opposing him is Brian Keith as Theodore Roosevelt, a man who treats the presidency like a high-stakes hunting expedition.
What The Wind and the Lion Gets Right (And Where It Bluffs)
If you're looking for a 1:1 historical documentary, keep walking. Milius took the real-life Ion Perdicaris incident and swapped the middle-aged Greek-American man for Candice Bergen. Why? Because it’s Hollywood, and a "damsel in distress" dynamic played better for 1970s audiences. But the movie captures something deeper than facts. It captures the vibe of the era. This was the "Big Stick" policy in action.
The film operates on two levels. First, you've got the sweeping desert vistas and the incredible score by Jerry Goldsmith. That music is legendary. It’s brassy, percussive, and feels like a sunstroke in the best possible way. Second, it’s a character study of two "lions." Raisuli and Roosevelt never actually meet in the film, yet their entire lives are a mirror of each other. They are men out of time. They are the "wind" and the "lion" of the title—forces that change the world but are eventually tamed or exhausted by it.
The Raisuli was a real guy. He was a bandit, a pirate, and a pretender to the throne. In the movie, he’s a philosopher-warrior who respects his enemies more than his allies. There's a scene where he describes the difference between himself and Roosevelt that basically summarizes the entire 20th century's geopolitical shift. Roosevelt represents the modern machine; Raisuli represents the ancient, individualistic soul of the desert.
The Roosevelt Connection and Big Stick Diplomacy
Brian Keith’s performance as Teddy Roosevelt is arguably the best ever put to film. He’s not a caricature. He’s a man who is bored by the safety of the White House and wants to test the mettle of his young nation. When he hears about the kidnapping, he doesn't just send a letter. He sends the Marines.
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"Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead!"
That was the actual slogan from the 1904 Republican National Convention. The movie leans hard into this. It shows a version of America that was just starting to flex its muscles on the world stage. It’s messy. It’s arrogant. It’s fascinating to watch in 2026 because we can see the seeds of everything that came after.
The action sequences are practical and gritty. No CGI here. When you see a hundred horsemen charging across the dunes, those are real people on real horses. The stunt work is terrifying. There’s a scene involving a bridge and a lot of gunpowder that makes modern action movies look like cartoons. Milius had a fetish for the "warrior spirit," and it’s splashed across every frame of The Wind and the Lion. He wanted to show the beauty in the struggle.
Why the Sean Connery Casting Actually Works
People love to joke about Connery's refusal to do accents. Whether he was a Russian sub commander or a Spanish immortal, he always sounded like he just stepped out of a pub in Edinburgh. In this movie, it weirdly adds to the mythic quality. He isn't trying to be a "realistic" Berber. He’s playing an archetype. He’s the Great Man. The Noble Outlaw.
Candice Bergen's Eden Pedecaris starts as a terrified victim but slowly realizes that her captor has more honor than the diplomats trying to "save" her. Their relationship isn't a romance in the traditional sense. It’s a mutual recognition of strength. She stops being a pawn and starts being a player in the game. It’s a surprisingly strong role for a woman in a 70s action flick.
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Behind the Scenes: The Milius Touch
John Milius is a self-described "Zen Anarchist." He wrote Apocalypse Now and directed Conan the Barbarian. You can see those DNA strands here. He loves the idea of the individual standing against the tide of history. The filming in Spain (standing in for Morocco) was grueling. The production design is tactile—you can almost smell the leather, the gunsmoke, and the horse sweat.
The movie didn't win a ton of Oscars, though Goldsmith's score was nominated. It has grown in stature over the decades because it’s one of the few films that treats its "villain" with as much respect as its "hero." By the end, you’re not sure if you’re rooting for the Marines or the bandits. That ambiguity is where the movie finds its soul.
Practical Insights for Modern Viewers
If you’re going to watch The Wind and the Lion for the first time, or revisit it after twenty years, keep a few things in mind.
First, look at the cinematography by Billy Williams. He uses natural light in a way that makes the desert look both beautiful and lethal. The night scenes aren't "movie blue"; they are dark and claustrophobic.
Second, pay attention to the dialogue. It’s incredibly quotable. "I am the lion, and you are the wind. You will never know rest." It’s poetic without being pretentious. It sounds like something written by someone who actually reads history books for fun.
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Third, consider the political subtext. It was released right after the Vietnam War ended. In that context, seeing an American president aggressively intervening in a foreign country was a bold choice. It wasn't necessarily a pro-war film, but it was definitely a pro-strength film. It asks: what is the cost of being a superpower?
How to Appreciate This Movie Today
- Watch the 1080p Blu-ray or 4K Restoration: The colors in the Moroccan desert (Spain) are so vibrant that a standard definition stream doesn't do it justice. The blue of the Tuareg robes against the orange sand is a visual feast.
- Listen for the Score: Don't just treat it as background noise. Jerry Goldsmith’s work here is a masterclass in how to use music to tell a story. The "Raisuli" theme is haunting.
- Read the Real History: After the credits roll, look up the real Ion Perdicaris. The true story involves a lot more legal maneuvering and a lot less sword-fighting, but it’s a fascinating look at how a single kidnapping almost started a world war.
- Ignore the Accent: Just let Sean Connery be Sean Connery. If you can accept him as a Soviet naval officer, you can accept him as a Moroccan lord.
The film ends not with a victory, but with a realization. The world is getting smaller. The age of the lone warrior and the adventurous president is fading away, replaced by committees, bureaucracy, and "modernity." It’s a bittersweet farewell to a certain kind of masculine myth-making. Whether you agree with Milius's politics or not, you can't deny the craft. The Wind and the Lion remains a towering achievement of 70s cinema—a movie that isn't afraid to be big, loud, and deeply philosophical all at the same time.
To truly understand this film, watch it alongside Lawrence of Arabia. While Lawrence is about the tragedy of an outsider trying to change a culture, this movie is about the mutual respect between two leaders who realize they are both relics of a dying age. It’s a grand, dusty, violent, and beautiful piece of art that deserves a spot on any cinephile's shelf.
Next Steps for Film History Buffs
- Compare the Portrayals: Watch The Wind and the Lion back-to-back with the 1997 film Rough Riders to see how different eras interpret Theodore Roosevelt's legacy.
- Track the Soundtrack: Seek out the Jerry Goldsmith recording sessions. The orchestration for the "The True Symbol" track is considered one of the most complex pieces of film music ever recorded.
- Explore the "Milius Masculinity": If this film resonates with you, dive into Milius’s other directorial effort, Conan the Barbarian (1982), to see how he evolved the "warrior-philosopher" trope into a fantasy setting.