Christy by Request — Zardoz

• 1 Apr 2018
• Posted by Christy
•   Christy by Request , Reviews

Where to begin in discussing the psychedelic, futuristic extravaganza that is “Zardoz”?

It’s either one of the most innovative and daring pieces of science-fiction filmmaking or one of the worst movies ever made. Either way, the name alone prompts strong reactions from those who’ve been lucky enough to experience it because it is so deliriously, unabashedly bizarre.

“Zardoz” is the movie that came up randomly in the latest Christy by Request selection. It’s the suggestion of Matt Glidden (@mattglidden), a Twitter follower of mine in Portland, Oregon. I’d seen writer-director John Boorman’s far-out fantasy — which was panned critically when it came out in 1974, but since has gained a cult following — but it had been a while. The first time I saw it, I’d actually driven out to rent it from the Silver Lake video store my mom used to visit when I was a kid, 40 minutes away from our home in Woodland Hills, because it had better foreign titles and obscure stuff like this. Now, you can revel in the glory of a hairy, bare-chested Sean Connery running around in nothing but a red diaper from the comfort of your own couch, instantly, through the magic of Amazon Video. (Thanks, Jeff Bezos!)

I truly have no idea what anyone was thinking here: not Connery, not Boorman, and certainly not the seemingly pragmatic Charlotte Rampling. And yet “Zardoz” is one of those movies — like “Xanadu” and “Grease 2,” both of which I love with zero irony — that’s such a wildly ambitious misfire that you can’t help but root for it, or at least feel some twisted sense of affection for it.

It’s also hard not to appreciate what an artistic risk it would have been for Connery and Boorman at any point in their careers, but particularly at this one. Connery was an international superstar, having played James Bond six times already. “Diamonds Are Forever” had come out three years earlier; his last outing as Bond, the aptly titled “Never Say Never Again,” would follow much later in 1983. He wanted to do something completely different, to break out of the structure of the iconic role that defined him. “Zardoz” gave him that opportunity, to say the least.

Boorman, meanwhile, was coming off the success of 1972’s “Deliverance,” which had earned him Academy Award nominations for best picture and director. He also wanted to try something completely different from the startling drama that had become a cultural phenomenon — just try hearing a banjo all these decades later without thinking of those Georgia hillbillies — and he wanted it to take place in a vividly fantastical land.

That’s clearly where we are in just the first few minutes here, starting with the floating head of our sinister, do-rag-wearing narrator (Niall Buggy) against a black screen. The puckish, self-proclaimed fake god calls himself Zardoz and asserts proudly: “I am the puppet master.” Later, he challenges us: “And you, poor creatures, who conjured you out of clay?” Like the worst community theater production you’re stuck sitting through because a friend of yours is in it, it’s painfully self-serious and unintentionally hilarious at the same time.

Then, through cloudy skies, to the majestic strains of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, comes the floating, stone head manifestation of Zardoz: a massive and ominous figure with searing green eyes and its mouth agape, baring jagged teeth. It’s clearly meant to be frightening, but the cheesy visual effects render it laughable. As it hovers over the rolling, green hills of the Irish coastline, it bellows to the men on horseback who worship him on the beach below: “Zardoz speaks to you, his chosen ones!” before spitting out rifles and ammunition at them like a slot machine hitting the jackpot.

Then, in a moment that’s the closest “Zardoz” ever comes to expressing any sort of cogent, discernible dogma, the head barks: “The gun is good!” And: “The penis is evil!” Perhaps this is intended as a satirical, make-war-not-love statement at the tail end of the Vietnam War. But everything that happens afterward is a whirlwind of weirdness and psychosexual experimentation, leaving that notion behind in a haze.

Connery’s ponytailed Zed is among these muscular, manly men. In this distant future, he’s a Brutal Exterminator. His job is to kill. And he does it in the most efficient (and merciless) costume this side of “Barbarella.” Just … wow. His outfit is everything that’s hideous and awesome about the ’70s all at once — but all those years of staying in shape to play James Bond definitely paid off.

But then for some reason, Zed feels the need to crawl inside the head of Zardoz and stow away as it floats off to its next destination: a bucolic land known as the Vortex, home of the immortal Eternals. In their rainbow-hued, midriff-baring, two-piece outfits, they are a disturbingly calm, hippieish cult. Whereas the Brutals are all about bringing swift death, the Eternals are stuck living forever, and it’s made them complacent. Neither extreme seems terribly ideal.

Among their leaders is Rampling’s no-nonsense Consuella, who wants to seize this stranger upon meeting him and destroy him. But Sara Kestelman’s May wants to make Zed their captive and study him for scientific purposes. Once the two women zap him with their eyes or use Jedi mind tricks on him or whatever it is they do, they turn him into their slave. He’s a passive blob — they poke and prod him, forcing him to do their bidding. And that’s just not Connery’s strong suit. He’s uncharacteristically awkward here: overly emotive, physically clunky and given to exaggerated facial expressions. The fact that Rampling is her sexy-cool, confident self, as always, only heightens how terrible Connery is by comparison.

I don’t want to give away too much more of what happens in this amazing movie. There’s so much that you must experience for yourself, and must see to truly believe. To its credit, “Zardoz” is totally unpredictable. You never know where it’s going, and then afterward, you can’t believe where it’s been. Trippy projected images and pseudo orgies, powerful crystals and mirrored pyramids, apathetic young people and angry old people — they’re all scattered along the film’s meandering narrative, often with the “help” of slow motion or cheap green-screen effects.

It’s all over the place visually and tonally, but somewhere underneath the experimental vibe, it seems that “Zardoz” means to be an indictment of man’s cruelty to man — of the cold, detached violence that defines several of these characters, and especially Zed. “I love to see them running,” he says in his submissive state in trying to explain what makes him tick. “I love to see the moment of their death, when I am one with Zardoz.” As he revisits memories of galloping along the beach, hunting people down for no apparent reason, the images of what he’s describing are projected on a screen for the peaceful Renaissance Faire refugees to watch in fear.

As singular as “Zardoz” is, though, it eventually reminded me of Darren Aronofsky’s divisive “mother!” which is also batshit crazy (although with the benefit of much higher production values) and also must be seen to the believed. Similar to the paranoid, escalating fate that befalls Jennifer Lawrence’s character, everyone is after Zed. Everyone wants something from him, whether it’s the gift of life or death, and it just grows crazier and more intense.

But the ending offers an unusual bit of peace and calm, given all that came before it. I won’t give it away, but I will say that it reveals what happens to Zed and Consuella over the passage of time. Once again, Boorman returns to Beethoven’s 7th to set the mood, and the result is unexpectedly poetic and lovely in its efficiency. The same understatement cannot be found elsewhere.