The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the Earth with a plague of men, as once it was, but the gun shoots death, and purifies the Earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth … and kill!
Oh what a film. How on earth did they sell Zardoz to Sean Connery?
“Sean, you’re going to love this, it’s like Bond but set in the future – a real gem of a role”. I imagine he heard ‘groundbreaking’ and ‘existential’ as well, but none of this figures in the end product.
In reality, Connery spends the film prancing around Hertfordshire in a red nappy with Jane Seymour’s pigtail hanging down his back, protesting against his part in the film by barely bothering to act. At various points he is surrounded by what appears to be members of my mum’s amateur dramatic society wrapped in cling film and whinnying. John Alderton telegraphs the effects of mind control by seeming to squeeze an unnecessarily large poo out of his future sphincter. In the middle of all these panto shenanigans, Charlotte Rampling is taking herself seriously in crochet.
I strongly recommmend this film, particularly during or after drinking.