In the pantheon of wildly ambitious, certifiably insane major studio films released in the go-for-broke 1970s, few can hold a candle to ZARDOZ (1974). Director John Boorman was riding high on the success of Warner Bros.’ DELIVERANCE two years before, so he was essentially given free rein to choose whatever story he wanted as long as the budget was right. The 20th Century-Fox production was envisioned by Boorman as his second vehicle with Burt Reynolds, but when the mustachioed superstar proved too ill to sign on, Sean Connery was brought on instead. The result is a hallucinatory and utterly unique fever dream of a film, as much fantasy as sci-fi despite its marketing (perhaps because Boorman was still frustrated at being unable to launch an adaptation of The Lord of the Rings), and once seen, it’s certainly not easy to forget.
Right off the bat you know you’re in for something special when the floating head of actor Niall Buggy appears in the middle of a wide Panavision screen otherwise bathed in inky darkness. “I am Arthur Frayn, and I am Zardoz,” he intones. “I have lived three hundred years, and I long to die. But death is no longer possible. I am immortal. I present now my story, full of mystery and intrigue – rich in irony, and most satirical. It is set deep in a possible future, so none of these events have yet occurred, but they may.” Fox reportedly insisted on this intro to acclimate audiences before they’re assaulted with images of a giant floating stone head dispensing an armory of weapons, an Irish landscape dotted with horseback-riding savages, and a sexless society of intellectual immortals, all set to elegiac Beethoven music in the year 2293. It’s unlikely the prologue helped too many audience members, and not for nothing is there only one FAQ entry for this film at IMDb: “I don’t understand this movie, what is it about?” (The answer there doesn’t help much either.)
The story, such as it is, charts the adventure of warrior Zed, who steals away inside the stone head and transports to the Vortex, the dwelling place of the Eternals, who rule over Zed’s people, the Brutals. (Zardoz is the name of the head, by the way, for reasons revealed later.) The lack of mortality among the Eternals has made them jaded and sexless, with Zed’s arrival throwing a wrench into their blasé lifestyles and grabbing the attention of the beautiful Consuella (Charlotte Rampling, who appeared in THE NIGHT PORTER the same year).
Connery wasn’t at the healthiest point in his career when he signed on to this film, to say the least. He’d made a begrudging return to the James Bond franchise in 1971 for DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER (oddly enough, another film pitched to Reynolds) under the condition that United Artists pay him a then-record $1.5 million and back two films of his choice. Only one of them was produced, Sidney Lumet’s superb THE OFFENCE (1973), which has since overcome its reputation as a box office disappointment and is now considered a minor classic. The other, a version of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, was scotched.
That’s how Connery found himself more open to a variety of roles at lower prices, which resulted in this and two other 1974 films, THE TERRORISTS and a supporting role in MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS. It’s safe to say that ZARDOZ is the most outré of the three as find the hirsute actor cutting an unforgettable figure with his ponytail and kinky outfit consisting of thigh-high leather boots, ammunition straps, and that red diaper-style concoction that still doesn’t have a proper name in the fashion world. Connery seems game for anything in the film, and according to Boorman’s audio commentary, his pliability was only tested during the haunting and very memorable montage at the film’s very end, a difficult makeup and visual effects feat that had to be repeated twice due to technical errors.
Somehow the whole crazy thing works if you’re in the right frame of mind; there’s a new idea being hurled out every two minutes or so, with an audacious visual concept to match it every step of the way. This being 1974, the film also pushes the R rating about as far as it can go with a dizzying amount of female nudity and a violent (but philosophical) bloodbath at the end clearly aiming to outdo THE WILD BUNCH. What holds it all together is Boorman’s fearlessness and absolute, rock-solid commitment to his vision, no matter how “out there” it may be. This is truly the closest British cinema has ever gotten to EL TOPO.
I first stumbled upon this film when my dad took me to see it (at too young an age, it now seems!) at a repertory screening as part of a futuristic triple feature with Woody Allen’s SLEEPER (1973) and, of all things, the delightfully daffy sci-fi musical, JUST IMAGINE (1930), a potential cult item still awaiting rediscovery. To say that it blew my mind would be an understatement, and it’s been oddly gratifying to see ZARDOZ‘s rep with film fans gradually increase with each passing year. Critics were mostly baffled or dismissive when it came out (Roger Ebert gave it one of the kinder notices), but it’s a film that stubbornly refuses to die, just like a cinematic Eternal. VHS and DVD kept its legend alive among those willing to be converted, and now it’s even been granted two lavish editions on Blu-ray, from Twilight Time in the U.S. and Arrow Video in the U.K. Even the gang at the popular podcast How Did This Get Made was won over by its sheer bravery, and it’s impossible to watch now without drawing eerie parallels to the clear social and economic divides that continue to drive a wedge in, well, almost every major developed country on the planet. If you’re a fan, you might also want to hunt down Boorman’s novelization (written with Bill Stair), which pulls in elements from previous drafts and clarifies quite a bit of Zed’s background.
One other fascinating side effect of ZARDOZ is the light it casts on Boorman’s career after this point. He didn’t make another film for three years, but the next one was a doozy: EXORCIST II: THE HERETIC (1977), a sequel to William Friedkin’s 1973 classic horror film. The hallucinatory, heady aspects of ZARDOZ are most definitely carried over with even more divisive results, resulting in much audience laughter and multiple recuts. However, that much-maligned sequel (which isn’t really a horror film at all) has also been enjoying a rehabilitation of sorts despite its moments of melodramatic absurdity, and it’s easier to appreciate now as a link between this film and what you could term the final film in Boorman’s bold fantasy trilogy (and easily the most respected), EXCALIBUR (1981). He’s been more or less earthbound ever since, with films ranging from nostalgic and acclaimed like HOPE AND GLORY (1987) to gleefully eccentric like WHERE THE HEART IS (1990).
Whether you’d like to visit Boorman’s world of Eternals and Brutals for the first time or make a return visit, TCM will be airing it on September 3 late at night when your brain cells will likely be more receptive, as part of a double bill of futuristic immortality and dubious costume decisions with LOGAN’S RUN (1976).
