The Cult of Zardoz

Now it can be told...

Around 1998 I saw a movie that would change my life - at least for a couple of years. The film opens with a giant stone head floating through clouds. Much like the Richard Dreyfus character in 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' I instantly wanted to begin work on a 6 foot tall concrete replica of the stone head in the livingroom where my Vancouver housemates (Jen, Sky, Daddy-o) and I were watching the show.

Sadly, Jen, the gal who lived beneath the livingroom, talked me out of this great adventure. She feared the concrete head would fall through the floor and crush her in bed. Reason conquered passion this time.

Instead, I modeled a plaster 'Janus' version (somewhat like those the exterminators wore in the film) as a model for a future, monumental head. There's been a much better plaster head made for Derek of the Saskatchewan branch. Below is a photo of the original relic.

This film was, of course, the 70's cult classic, 'Zardoz', directed by John Boorman and starring Sean Connery (looking like a reject from a gay pride disco). If you're humour-challenged the film is just awful.

The film may be summarized as follows: Zed (Sean) is carried in the mouth of his stone head god (Zardoz) to a utopian realm where he's the only guy who can get an erection and all the women want him. Those are the broad strokes. Though, no matter how many times I've seen the movie, I still don't understand the whole thing. Such mysteries are cult movements made of.

Sky, Daddy-o and I decided that a complete translation of the film's audio track (words, grunts, laughs, sighs) was needed in order to settle some arguments we began to have regarding 'the true Zardoz'. After several thousand rewinds of the VHS remote controller, our white dining room walls were covered with black permanent marker words. Disputes were settled in night ceremonies by candlelight as we would read the words of Zardoz from The Sacred Wall.

Stunt Zardoz Geek
(must be at Burning Man Fest)

We held Zardoz parties where friends, intrigued by the strange/mad writing in the dining room, would sit and watch the film with us. A small ritual was even performed with the plaster head passed from one audience member to another as the 'real' stone head moved through the clouds. For some unexplainable reason, many of these people never returned for a second viewing.

After a year of this Jen requested we paint over The Sacred Wall as her friends were afraid to enter the house. So we painted over it - seven coats, I believe - and the words disappeared. Ah, but then the words reappeared! Like some cheesy horror flick - or religious miracle - the words bled right through the yellow paint. Jen finally accepted the will of Zardoz and awaited the razing of the rental house only months away. A fitting end.