Zardoz
WHEN Sean Connery passed away last week we were bombarded with Bond. In many ways, it's easy to see why. Arguably no one captured the sneering sexiness and casual brutishness of Ian Fleming's most famous literary creation quite like the one time Edinburgh milk man and Connery's stint as the big screen JB coincided with the commercial high watermark for Cubby Broccoli's money-spinning spy movie franchise.
To write off the actor's art by suggesting his talents lay mostly in filling out a tuxedo and dispatching diabolical masterminds with snide little one liners would be unacceptable though. Dig a little deeper than the stylish but shallow world of Bond and there are a cache of cult beauties to explore all the way through his impressively eclectic CV. Today, I have chosen just one for you.
For the purposes of this column, I could have revisited his appearances in low-key gems like director Joe Roberts' moody military masterpiece The Hill (1965) or a less appreciated, seedy but sensational little British crime drama like The Frightened City (1961). Perhaps I could just have reminded you of his greatest ever screen role in The Man Who Would Be King (1975). I have decided though to plump for the man's remarkable turn in John Boorman's sci-fi freak-out, Zardoz.
Unquestionably the oddest movie the canny Scot ever put his name to, it was a total bomb when it hit cinemas in 1974 and baffled just about everyone who saw it with its manic mix of psychedelic visuals, alternative philosophies (so big in the early 70s) and dubious sexual politics (likewise). Even now, it practically defies description.
Boorman, hot after his success with Deliverance, was given free rein to conjure up his future world and he fires into the project like a man possessed. Nothing before or since has looked or felt quite as unhinged as Zardoz.
Here the wilderness, or 'outlands' as they are called, are patrolled by rugged exterminators who pick off the surplus numbers of the population at the command of their god, Zardoz, who we see as a huge floating stone head.
One of those rugged executioners is Zed (Sean Connery), who sneaks inside Zardoz, kills the pilot and returns to The Vortex, the home of the ruling overclass who probe Zed relentlessly before the real purpose of his mission becomes apparent.
Connery spends much of this nihilistic nightmare clad in little more than a red nappy, boasting a full blown Zapata moustache and lustrous ponytail which only adds to the aura of ongoing weirdness, but the sheer craziness of the fable remains hugely admirable.
A wildly ambitious, wilfully abstract and, at times, laughably pretentious slice of 70s cinematic madness, Zardoz more fun than it has any right to be. It's hugely flawed but fascinating all the same, and as cult curios go it takes some beating.
Connery would go on to make better films, be seen by much bigger audiences and rake in the Hollywood dollars to much greater effect elsewhere, but in terms of pure, borderline insane cult genius, Zardoz is essential viewing.
