User reviews

Seldom seen since theatrical release in 1970, MYRA BRECKINRIDGE has become a byword for cinematic debacles of legendary proportions. Now at last on DVD in an unexpectedly handsome package, it is as unlikely to win wide audiences today as it was when first released.

Gore Vidal's 1968 bestseller was a darkly satirical statement. Most filmmakers felt that the novel's story, structure, and overall tone would not translate to film, and industry insiders were surprised when 20th Century Fox not only acquired the rights but also hired Vidal to adapt his novel to the screen. But studio executives soon had cold feet: Vidal's adaptations were repeatedly rejected and novice writer-director Michael Sarne was brought in to bring the film to the screen.

Studio executives hoped that Sarne would tap into the youth market they saw as a target for the film, but Sarne proved even more out of synch with the material than the executives themselves. Rewrite upon rewrite followed. The cast, sensing disaster, became increasingly combative. In her DVD commentary, star Raquel Welch says that she seldom had any idea of what Myra's motives were from scene to scene or even within any single scene itself, and that each person involved seemed to be making an entirely different film. In the accompanying "Back Story" documentary, Rex Reed says that MYRA BRECKINRIDGE was a film made by a bunch of people who hid in their dressing rooms while waiting for their lawyers to return their calls.

The accuracy of these comments are demonstrated by the film itself. The basics of Vidal's story are there, but not only has the story been shorn of all broader implications, it seems to have no point in and of itself. Everything runs off in multiple directions, nothing connects, and numerous scenes undercut whatever logic previous scenes might have had. And while director Sarne repeatedly states in his commentary that he wanted to make the film as pure farce, the only laughs generated are accidental.

Chief among these accidents is Mae West. It is true that West is unexpectedly well preserved in appearance and that she had lost none of her way with a one-liner--but there is no getting around the fact that she is in her seventies, and her conviction that she is the still the sexiest trick in shoe leather is extremely unsettling, to say the least. But worse, really, is the fact that West is outside her era. Her efforts to translate herself into a hip and happening persona results in one of the most embarrassing self-caricatures ever seen on film.

The remaining cast is largely wasted. Raquel Welch, a significantly underestimated actress, plays the title role of Myra very much like a Barbie doll on steroids; non-actor Rex Reed is unexpectedly effective in the role of Myron, but the entire role is essentially without point. Only John Huston and cameo players John Carradine, Jim Backus, William Hopper, and Andy Devine emerge relatively unscathed. Yes, it really is the debacle everyone involved in the film feared it would be: fast when it should be slow, slow when it should be fast, relentlessly unfunny from start to finish. It is true that director Sarne does have the occasional inspired idea--as in his use of film clips of everyone from Shirley Temple to Judy Garland to create counterpoint to the action--but by and large, whenever Sarne was presented with a choice of how to do something he seems to have made the wrong one.

The how and why of that is made clear in Sarne's audio commentary. Sarne did not like the novel or, for that matter, the subject matter in general. He did not want to write the screenplay, but he needed the money; he emphatically did not want to direct the film, but he need the money. He makes it very clear that he disliked author Gore Vidal and Rex Reed (at one point he flatly states that Reed "is not a nice person"), and to this day he considers that Vidal and Reed worked in tandem to sabotage the film because he refused to play into their 'homosexual agenda'--which, when you come right down to it, seems to have been their desire that Sarne actually film Vidal's novel rather than his own weirdly imagined take-off on it.

Although he spends a fair amount of commentary time stating that the film is widely liked by the gay community, Sarne never quite seems to understand that the appeal of the film for a gay audience arises from his ridiculously inaccurate depiction of homosexual people. When taken in tandem with the film itself, Sarne emerges as more than a little homophobic--and quite frankly the single worst choice of writers and directors that could have been made for this project.

In addition to the Sarne and Welch commentaries and the making-of documentary, the DVD release includes several trailers and two versions of the film: a "theatrical release" version and a "restored" version. The only difference between the two is that the final scene in the "restored" version has been printed to black and white. The edits made before the film went into general release have not been restored, but the documentary details what they were. The widescreen transfers of both are remarkably good and the sound is quite fine. But to end where I began, this is indeed a film that will most interest film historians, movie buffs, and cult movie fans. I give it three out of five stars for their sake alone, but everyone else should pass it by.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer

I bought this DVD without any previous reference but the names of John Huston, Raquel Welch, Mae West and Farrah Fawcett on its cover. I found the Brazilian title very weird, but I decided to watch expecting to see a funny comedy maybe like "Switch". However the non-sense story is awful and hard to be described. Myron Breckinridge (Rex Reed) is submitted to a surgery to change his sex in Copenhagen and he returns to Hollywood telling that she is to be Myra Breckinridge (Raquel Welch) and claiming half the property of his uncle Buck Loner (John Huston). Along the days, Myra and her alter-ego Myron corrupt a young couple in her uncle's academy with kinky sex. In a certain moment, the messy screenplay is so confused that I believe the whole story was only a mind trip of Myron induced by the accident. Unfortunately the beauties of Raquel Welch and Farrah Fawcett are not enough to hold this flick. My vote is three.

Title (Brazil): "Homem & Mulher Até Certo Ponto" ("Man & Woman Up to a Point")

I don't think Myra Beckinridge is quite as bad as its reputation suggests. However that's not saying very much, as a film it is an interesting curiosity but also its a mess. Starting with the good things, I liked the soundtrack and some of the fashions and scenery. Farrah Fawcett and Mae West are decent, and Raquel Welch also gives a good performance despite having some of the worst lines of the film. On the other hand, what Myra Breckinridge suffers from especially are scenes that jump wildly and frequently all over the place with no smoothness, this is both in editing and storytelling and the incoherent script. The story was interesting at first glance, but became very disjointed, while the direction fares no better. The film is only about 95 or so minutes, but because the pace is so uneven sometimes it feels longer. The rest of the cast are not good at all, Red Reed is horrible, Roger Herren is bland and John Huston-who I love both as an actor and director-is overbearing and chews the scenery to pieces. Overall, Myra Breckinridge is interesting, but it is a mess as well. 4/10 Bethany Cox

Somebody once said that Gore Vidal's novel "Myra Breckinridge" was un-filmable to begin with. That's probably true. One scene in the book--- a female-on-male rape, described in nauseating, horrific detail--- would have sent most movie directors scurrying in the opposite direction. There's no way that this story could have ever become a classic mainstream movie. But it's not all that bad, thanks mostly to some really clever casting (bringing Mae West into the film was a stroke of genius) and a wonderful, bitingly funny and dead-on performance by a young Raquel Welch.

The basic story is a *really* bizarre dark comedy involving a guy, Myron Breckinridge (Rex Reed), who has sex-change surgery--- or does he, really?--- to become his alter-ego Myra (Raquel Welch). As a female, Myra tries to shake down her uncle Buck Loner (John Huston) into giving her at least half of his popular acting school. There are a few side stories along the way, involving Mae West as a sex-mad Hollywood agent, Farrah Fawcett as a sunny-smiling dumb blonde, and Roger Herron as handsome young Rusty-the-Stud, who ends up being nothing much more than a boy-toy (both in the film and in real life. Was he *ever* heard from again after appearing in this movie?)

The theme of this movie is "Hollywood" in great big letters. A fascination with the movie industry runs through it. It's about everything we imagine Hollywood to be: actors, agents, Southern California, limousines, wild sex, drugs, nudity, the whole bit. There are references to, film clips of, and appearances by, classic Hollywood movies and stars. If you aren't interested in Hollywood and what it represents--- or used to represent--- forget this movie. You won't like it. That's what it's about.

The fun (and there is some) lies in the cynical mechanisms of nearly all the leading players. Well, all except Farrah Fawcett, that is; her wide smile and big teeth, years before "Charlie's Angels", is all happy sincerity; this girl doesn't have a cynical bone in her body. You can't help but like her).

Plopped directly into the middle of various scenes, often with no purpose whatsoever but to add "mood", are dozens of film clips from old 20th-Century-Fox movies. The inclusion of these off-the-wall clips give the whole movie a slightly off-center, psychedelic feel that must have felt self-knowingly hip in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

Two big highlights in this movie: the performances of Raquel Welch and Mae West. West got top billing, but is actually seen in a *very* small role; maybe 10 minutes of total screen time. Her scenes are completely self-contained; they don't have much to do with the rest of the movie (except in mood and style), but they are great fun to watch. I'm really shocked by all of the negative comments about her by other reviewers. They aren't giving her enough credit, because West was *hilariously* funny at the mind-boggling age of 77 when she made this movie. Most of the time, she seems easily 30 years younger. (Only for one brief scene in the back seat of a limo--- where she looks quite weary--- does it seem even possible this woman might be on the far side of elderly).

West may have been in her late 70s here, but her character was definitely not. She's playing a hip, powerful, horny, dynamic, middle-aged foxy chick, and damn if she doesn't pull it off with aplomb and style. It would be an impossible role for any other woman of her age, but she did it so successfully that you don't realize what an accomplishment it was until you think about it. West alone is worth the price of admission--- or the price of the DVD, anyway.

Raquel Welch was also at the very top of her form here. An absolute knockout to look at, Welch was drop-dead gorgeous, and she gives a biting, sarcastic, and also hilariously funny performance as Myra. She, by the way, *is* the leading role, despite Mae West getting top billing. The two women did not get at all along during filming, by the way, and in their one scene together, it's obvious that they were never filmed at the same time; their dialogue consists entirely of close-ups of each lady separately.

This movie tried, maybe a little too hard, to be hip and "adult" at the time, and so it's got some needlessly raunchy language and situations in it (including the afore-mentioned female-on-male rape which, unfortunately, did make it into the movie. It's almost as horrific as reading about it in the book was, and you have to feel sorry for Roger Herron as Rusty, the object of Myra's ugly power fantasy.) It was awfully hard to even put a story like this on film in the first place, but Michael Sarne did try, and he succeeded more than failed. I think it's worth it. But know what you're in for when you watch it!

MYRA BRECKINRIDGE is one of those rare films that established its place in film history immediately. Praise for the film was absolutely nonexistent, even from the people involved in making it. This film was loathed from day one. While every now and then one will come across some maverick who will praise the film on philosophical grounds (aggressive feminism or the courage to tackle the issue of transgenderism), the film has not developed a cult following like some notorious flops do. It's not hailed as a misunderstood masterpiece like SCARFACE, or trotted out to be ridiculed as a camp classic like SHOWGIRLS.

Undoubtedly the reason is that the film, though outrageously awful, is not lovable, or even likable. MYRA BRECKINRIDGE is just plain mean. As a Hollywood satire it is cold-blooded and mean-spirited, but in a hollow pointless way. MYRA takes for granted that Hollywood is a corrupt town, but goes further to attack such beloved icons as Laurel and Hardy, Shirley Temple, Judy Garland and Gary Cooper. The film seems to imply that everything about Hollywood is by its very nature vile. It seems to think that there is something inherently courageous about mocking sacred cows, but doesn't supply a rationale for doing the mocking in the first place. The film is also viscously anti-American and anti-establishment and anti-this and anti-that, but all in a superficial, late-1960's, trendy way. Like CASINO ROYALE; SKI-DOO; I LOVE YOU, ALICE B. TOKLAS and other would-be hip epics, MYRA is a middle-aged vision of the hippy-dippy youth culture. It tries to embrace the very attitude that it belittles. But instead of being cheerfully self-mocking, MYRA makes no attempt to conceal its contempt for everything that comes within its grasp. MYRA BRECKINRIDGE has the humor of a bully; there's not a single moment of innocence in it. Its intentions aren't honorable. TIME magazine aptly described it as being "about as funny as a child molester," but it's not nearly as sympathetic.

For instance, poor Mae West bore the brunt of so much of the criticism aimed at the film, being described as looking like everything from an aging drag queen to a reanimated walking corpse. The octogenarian star obviously didn't know just how ridiculous she looked playing a lecherous talent agent lusting after men young enough to be her grandsons or even her great-grandsons. But, director Michael Sarne had to know, but he used her anyway. Why? Because, she apparently was the joke. Just like John Huston, John Carradine, Grady Sutton, Andy Devine and other veteran performers in the film, they are there only so the film can mock their age and use them to trash their film images. They are cast as smarmy self-parodies, as is Rex Reed, the arrogant, fey film critic, who is cast as just that in the film. But the real Reed, the celebrity hound, jet-setting, talk show gossip, can be charming in an obnoxiously funny way; but as Myron, Myra's alter ego, he is just obnoxious. Again, apparently for Sarne, Reed is the joke.

You watch MYRA BRECKINRIDGE and you don't see actors, you see victims. None more so than Raquel Welch. No one will ever accuse Welch of being a great actress, but it is a testament to her tenacity and her appeal that she survived this film and her career prospered. Being in almost every scene, Welch was front and center as a target for abuse aimed at the film, but to her credit, she gives a remarkably nuanced performance. Though, of course, centered between the scenery chewing Huston and the almost catatonic West, Welch doesn't have to do much to strike a good balance. Even so, she renders her horribly unfunny dialogue with a deadpan smirk, with just the hint of self-righteous glee that would do any James Bond villain proud. Legend has it that Welch was snubbed by a condescending West and subjected to repeated verbal abuse on the set by bumbling director Sarne, not to mention being featured in one degrading scene after another, making it all the more remarkable that she was able to give such a cool and collected performance.

The film's only intriguing element is trying to figure out just what the film's agenda is. The whole story is a fantasy fable, which should indicate that it has a moral to deliver, but what that might be is anybody's guess. With all of its talk about destroying "the last vestigial traces of traditional manhood from the race," it would seem to have a feminist axe to grind. But as a feminist, Myra is a monstrous figure, a sexual predator. Besides, Myra isn't a woman, rather she is a delusion of Myron, who presumably is a gay male. That might explain the male rape scene as well as the character's love/hate attitude toward the macho, seemingly straight, deadhead Rusty, but it doesn't explain his/her obsession for and the supposedly lesbian tryst with Farrah Fawcett's Mary Ann. The film is obsessed with sex, but can hardly be accused of being in favor of the sexual revolution; all the sex is treated as being, if not dirty, than at least perverse and degrading. Turning to Gore Vidal's original novel isn't of any help, because it is as confused and pointless as the movie.

And this is a rare movie that actually seems to hate movies. Not just movies as a business, but movies as part of the culture as well. The film itself is wall-to-wall arcane references to old movies, all of which director-screenwriter Sarne approaches with a seething disdain. He has raided the film vaults of 20th Century-Fox and peppered the film with snippets of old films, not as an homage or to provide a social commentary, but to mock the innocence of old Hollywood. How can an artist -- if you generously want to call Sarne that -- make a work of art if he already hates the very medium he is working in? The very effort is totally self-defeating.

MYRA BRECKINRIDGE doesn't seem to be in favor of anything other than being just nasty. It hates Hollywood, it hates America, it hates sex, it hates gays and straights and women and men and old people and young people and Laurel and Hardy and, well, you name it and it probably has a scene showing contempt for it. In a very sad and sorry way, MYRA BRECKINRIDGE may be the first punk manifesto, a celebration of pop culture nihilism.

"Myra Breckinridge" is a self-indulgent, pretentious, disjointed assemblage of narcissistic fluff. Like a degenerate spelunker, it explores the caverns and cavities of novelist Gore Vidal's filth-obsessed mind, and documents its discoveries with the sloppy randomness of a set of poetry refrigerator magnets. Though some of its actors are fecklessly complicit in its banality, others are its game but gotten victims, like Raquel Welch, who displays a variety of talents and an unflagging energy, in addition to her transcendent beauty.

One of the film's most abominable accomplishments is its degradation by association of some bygone stars. And its intercutting of some treasured vintage film clips with its slop of a script is about as palatable as watching Rex Reed nuzzle the beautiful nape of Farrah Fawcett.

Some excellent production values give the film a sheen of professionalism and worthiness, but it's like putting an ascot on an orangutan that likes to flash its ass. Speaking of Rex Reed, his choice of this loser for his acting debut reveals the tasteless judgment that informed his career in film criticism.

I was unfortunate enough to view this piece of polished twaddle in its first release. The intervening years have only served to further ravage this specimen of vacuous excess. It still feels like the diary of a prurient teen.

How dare it invoke the names and images of Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Clark Gable and countless other screen legends? It is the insolent diatribe of a cinema hater, not a cineaste. Its director, who will go unnamed here, shares significantly in the blame.

I remember leaving the theater in 1970 and embracing the summer sunshine, not as a metaphor for life's affirmation but as a disinfecting agent.

The book "Myra Breckinridge" is marvelous, and so is its nutty sequel "Myron" (which takes place on the set during the making of the Maria Montez movie "Siren of Atlantis" and, in its original published version, is a diatribe against censorship and finds new ways to use the name Rehnquist). The movie, a big flop in 1970, is not marvelous, but starts intriguingly and still has an aura of the forbidden about it (it was rated X; in 1970 that wasn't a liability, it could be a marketing scheme). The Fox Movie Channel showed the film recently in widescreen and I watched it (the latest in several viewings ) and I failed to notice exactly when it begins to unravel.

In spite of its ultimately depressing and sleazy tone, the movie does have some lovely things in it: the winking girl who pops up in various scenes throughout, Raquel Welch's game, amusing performance, an intriguing visual style, the usage of old movie clips to comment on the action in a meta-cinematic manner (my favorite is the brief glimpse of Marilyn Monroe in the unfinished "Something's Got To Give," a glimpse that could have been furthered), a bizarre underused supporting cast of excellent Old Hollywood character actors (Jim Backus, Kathleen Freeman, Grady Sutton, Andy Devine, John Carradine, etc.) and a short appearance by Genevieve Waite, the star of the director's previous, and only, hit film "Joanna." Waite is also the mother of Bijou Phillips and the ex-wife of John Phillips, of The Mamas and The Papas. (John Phillips wrote the song "A Secret Place" that was used in the film.) I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when the movie was being made. Rex Reed, one of the stars in the film, WAS a fly on the wall and wrote about the fiasco in Playboy magazine. Then he went on The Mike Douglas Show and gave out his Christmas list. To everyone who saw the movie "Myra Breckinridge" he gave a case of amnesia.

I agree with another comment here that the movie has finally caught up with its audience, but only if you know a little something about Old Hollywood and really love cinema.

I have to say I was very curious on viewing this film, and it was considered a notorious disaster when released by 20th Century Fox in 1970. It has also popped up on several critics lists of bad films, and this only deepened an interest, as I just had to see what made this movie so bad.Upon seeing it, I think I have my answers. Although I will say it does make for curious viewing, the acting, direction, and script are so laughingly bad, that the supposed satire is completely missing. Racquel Welch seems to try to carry the film, but after the opening sequence of the sex-change operation, the film goes so far down hill that she cannot handle this task alone. John Huston as Uncle Buck Loner is certainly no help, as he licks and leers at the screen, he sometimes looks like he wonders himself what he's doing there. Rex Reed bounces around as Myron, Myra's alter ego, and even has his own celebrated masturbation scene. Bravo for debut performances! Farrah Fawcett plays a dumb blonde; she certainly seemed convincing in this role. But , of course, arguably the most notorious role went to Mae west. The sight of a 75 year old woman with a plastic face making sexual innuendos seemed more suitable for a horror film. I don't mean to put this cast down personally; but in this film, no one comes out looking good. The direction seems so unassured and non-existent, that the film is not only bad, but boring as well. Throw in some old film footage of old stars, and the movie becomes even more disconnected. To each his own to anyone that enjoyed this, and I was glad I at least saw it, but Myra Breckenridge seems to be the disaster that it was always reputed to be from the beginning.

MYRA BRECKINGRIDGE (4 outta 5 stars) Considering that this is historically considered one of the "worst" movies ever made, I didn't expect I was going to enjoy it... though I was curious to see how bad a train wreck it was going to be. Well, I was simply amazed at how well-done the movie actually is! To be honest, the movie is not for everyone... and I don't even know if I could actually recommend it to casual movie viewers in good conscience... but if you are a fan of truly bizarre and outrageous movies... this one is a must-see. Raquel Welch gives the best performance of her career... really! She never got many decent film roles but in this one she actually got to show that she was more than just a huge, heaving bosom. (Nonetheless, I also maintain that she probably never looked more attractive in a motion picture than she does in this one.) This movie really is a mess in certain respects but there is so much going on and most of it is so entertaining that I didn't mind the incoherence at all. The use of vintage movie clips to "comment" on what's going on in the storyline is brilliant. (The later HBO series "Dream On" also used this technique but I think this movie did it much better.) Rex Reed is perfectly cast as Myron, a gay man who decides on having a sex change (though Reed vehemently insisted throughout filming that he *wasn't* playing a gay man... uh, okay, Rex). Well, Rex turns into Raquel Welch and that's when the fun begins... he/she embarks on a quest to make men and women re-think the roles that society has imposed on them (I think that's sorta kinda supposed to be the point but it does get muddled a lot of the time). Mae West shows up for no real purpose... 76 years old and belting out her most outrageous sexual innuendos ever. (One of the recipients, a young Tom Selleck.) I never really cared much for Mae West in her prime... and was amazed how not-bad she was here! (I also am a bit reluctant to admit that I have been humming the Shirley Temple ditty that opens and closes this movie non-stop since hearing it.) John Huston probably gives one of his worst performances ever... but he's STILL worth watching... now THAT is star power! There are many classic scenes in this movie that will have you shaking your head in disbelief... could you imagine a Hollywood movie *today* that would have a buxom beauty wearing an American flag bikini, strapping on a dildo and using it on an unwilling male? I think not. Only in the 60's, baby!

Quite how this became Hollywood's most famously reviled and ridiculed creation is almost as mysterious as how such a bizarre film was ever made in the first place.

It's the story of a gay film critic knocked unconscious in a car accident who then dreams he has undergone a sex-change operation and been recreated in Raquel Welch's image. I managed to work that much out after two viewings, the first wondering what the hell I was seeing and the second spotting the few clues to the "plotline" that exist between the scenes of insane camp and bizarre sexual acts.

Somehow, through all the confusion and early '70s delirium, I found myself enjoying it. It is a ridiculous mess, but where else are you going to see the legendary John Huston receiving a brutal Swedish massage and Raquel Welch in glorious widescreen, Technicolor Panavision wearing a strap-on and cowgirl outfit ensemble? Not in Legally Blonde, I know that much.

It was the Sixties, and anyone with long hair and a hip, distant attitude could get money to make a movie. That's how Michael Sarne, director of this colossal flop, was able to get the job. Sarne is one of the most supremely untalented people ever given a dollar to make a movie. In fact, the whole studio must have been tricked into agreeing to hire a guy who had made exactly one previous film, a terribly precious 60's-hip black and white featurette called Joanna. That film starred the similarly talentless actress/waif Genevieve Waite who could barely speak an entire line without breaking into some inappropriate facial expression or bat-like twitter. Sarne, who was probably incapable of directing a cartoon, never mind a big-budget Hollywood film, was in way over his head. David Giler's book is the best place to go to find out how the faux-infant terrible Sarne was able to pull the wool over everyone's eyes. If there is ever an historical marker which indicates the superficiality and shallowness of an era, Myra Breckinridge provides that marker. It embodies the emptiness and mindless excess of a decade which is more often remembered for a great sea-change in the body politic. Breckinridge is a touchstone of another, equally important vein. Watch this movie and you'll get a different perspective on the less-often mentioned vacuity of spirit which so often passed for talent during those years.

Many reviewers have spoken about the inter-cutting of footage from other films, especially older ones. Some actually liked these clunky "comments" on what was taking place in the movie, others found them senseless, annoying, and obtrusive, though since the film is so bad itself any intrusion would have to be an improvement.

In my opinion, the real reason Michael Sarne put so many film clips into Myra Brekinridge was to paper over the bottomless insufficiency of wit and imagination that he possessed. That is to say, Sarne was so imagination-challenged that he just threw these clips in to fill space and take up time. They weren't inspiration, they were desperation. His writing skills were nonexistent, and David Giler had wisely stepped away from the project as one might from a ticking bomb, so Sarne was left to actually try and make a movie, and he couldn't. It was beyond his slim capabilities. Hence the introduction of what seems like one half of an entire film's worth of clips. The ghosts of writers and directors - many long since passed on - were called upon to fix this calamitous flopperoo because Sarne sure as heck wasn't able to. This was what he came up with on those days he sat on the set and thought for eight hours while the entire cast and crew (not to mention the producers and the accountants) cooled their heels and waited for something, some great spark of imagination, a hint of originality, a soupcon of wit, to crackle forth from the brow of Zeus. Um, oops. No Zeus + no imagination + no sparks = millions of little dollar bills with tiny wings - each made from the hundreds of licensing agreements required to use the clips - flying out the window. Bye-bye.

As for myself, I hated the film clips. They denigrated Sarne's many betters, poked fun at people whose talents - even those whose skills were not great - far outstripped the abilities of the director and so ultimately served to show how lacking he was in inspiration, originality - and even of plain competency - compared to even the cheesiest of them.

I read "Myra Breckinridge" in 1969 when I was riding a bus from St. Louis to San Antonio, and I fell in love with everything about the book. I saw the movie when it first came out (even though I was not, legally, old enough) and had a blast. This film (I do NOT use that term loosely) had so much going on and not going on between pretty people and not so pretty people who were acting badly and beautifully while doing evil and funny and disgusting and sweet things to each other in the most vicious and caring ways possible, I was overwhelmed by it all. It had more to say in its heaving breast about the cruel and elevated ways in which man treats his fellow man than every Oscar-winning picture since...and all while telling its story in the most absurd and drug-inducing manner possible.

But what adds even more to the meaning of the film is how it destroyed the career of not just its director (who probably deserved it) but also ruined any chance of a career for Roger Herren solely because he played a character who was raped by a woman. Men can play rapists and women can be raped and gang raped and even play lesbians, and they receive Oscars for their performances and no one thinks the worst of them. But let a man get sodomized and suddenly everyone questions his masculinity and ability to relate to the opposite sex. And THAT is where MYRA BRECKINRIDGE stands tall.

Yes, the movie is a smash-up of styles and insane casting choices and baldly ludicrous dialogue and unintentionally funny acting, but so were more recent idiot movies like THE ROCK and TITANIC and SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE, and look how successful they became...and how quickly they will be forgotten. At least MYRA BRECKINRIDGE, the movie (maybe even moreso than the book), worked as a slap in the face of America's sexual dysfunction and hypocrisy...and I believe THAT is what bothers so many people about it. And that is why it remains a movie worth watching,

The only reason I was tempted to see it was that I have aspirations of seeing every film from Harry Medved's book "The Fifty Worst Movies of All Time". What a creepy and god-awful mess of a film! It truly was an incredibly bad film (and a deserving selection for the book) and when you see it today you are left wondering "what were they thinking?!?!".

The film begins with a scene where film critic Rex Reed is about to undergo a sex change. The whole thing is done in a strange and surrealistic way as an audience sits nearby to watch. Despite Rex transforming through surgery into Raquel Welch (truly an impossibility), you keep seeing BOTH incarnations of the same character (Myron and Myra) as they set on adventures designed to bring him/her hot sex as well as irritate their hated uncle (John Huston).

Now had any of this been handled with any degree of finesse, it could have potentially been an interesting sex farce--certainly NOT family material, but still entertaining. However, instead of finesse or style, the entire effort is handled in a ham-fisted manner with all the style and grace of a production created by sexually frustrated 7th graders! For example, some bizarre necrophiliac urge pushed the producers to resurrect 78 year-old Mae West from the dead. She utters an amazing string of double entendres that MIGHT have been funny coming from a 20 or 30 or 40 year-old. However, seeing Miss West (who is very reminiscent of Lon Chaney in PHANTOM OF THE OPERA) deliver these lines made me feel rather queasy--it was like watching granny trying desperately to score one final time before meeting the Grim Reaper! The film is written in such a broad and sophomoric way that there really is almost no discernible plot and the acting, if you want to call it that, if sadly unprofessional. Plus, in a very bizarre move, the film is often permeated with usually irrelevant footage from many, many classic Hollywood films. Seeing Laurel and Hardy, Carmen Miranda, Claudette Colbert and countless others spliced into a smarmy movie is just sad and it should be criminal to abuse the dead or those unwilling to be in a smutty film.

If you think seeing a "comedic" anal rape scene or a geriatric nympho is funny or interesting, then by all means see MYRA BRECKENRIDGE. Otherwise, think twice before viewing--your brain will thank you for saying "no" to this film!!

By the way, don't you think that since Rex Reed starred in this bilge the idea of him being a film critic is a bit hypocritical? It's sort of like making Michael Jackson a camp counselor!

THAT'S certainly a strange way to promote a film upon which a great deal rested. And it seems like plain suicide on the part of the studio, given that (1) The feuds between the cast were well known long before the movie's release. (2) The feud between the Producer(Robert Fryer) and Director ( Michael Sarne) was also common knowledge. (3) The cast made no secret of their contempt for the film and made it public at every opportunity, with daily bulletins from the set gleefully reported by gossip columnists everywhere.

And (4) The author, Gore Vidal hated it practically from day one. Nevertheless, that tagline just about sums it up. Raquel Welch does give a decent performance as Myra, and she looks lovely besides. John Huston is very funny as Buck Loner, the ex-Cowboy Star who runs a phony acting academy. Mae West, (in her first screen appearance since 1943) naturally rewrote her part to suit herself, and she is great as ''oversexed'' (and that's putting it mildly) ''Talent Agent'' Leticia Van Allen. Still, she must have wondered (after waiting so long for a good vehicle in which to return) how she ever ended up in this mess.

Tom Selleck (in his film debut) is one of her ''clients''. John Carradine and Jim Backus, as Doctors, also amble in briefly. Rex Reed as Myron, Farrah Fawcett and Roger Herren, as the victims of Myra/Myron's sexual passion, are neither here nor there. The same goes for the script, which not only fails to focus on the basic plot of the book, but seems to head in at least three different directions at once. Although West's part was originally larger, she was reduced to a cameo role by the time Sarne was through with the editing. And, partly because of this, she seems to be in a different movie. Apparently, at some point, the Producers realized that Mae was going to be the film's big draw, and, unable to replace most of her cut footage, they rushed her back to the set at the end of filming for the second of her two songs, both of which come out of nowhere. The device Sarne used of throwing in old film clips of bygone stars to emphasize whatever points he was making, doesn't work at all. By the time the movie concludes, all a weary spectator can do is wonder what in the hell it was all about. Not surprisingly, just about everyone connected with the production felt the same way, and it died at the box office. A technically flawless DVD includes, (among other extras) separate commentaries from both Welch and Sarne, each of whom have completely opposite opinions of just what went wrong.No doubt it's home video re-release was prompted by a 2001'' Vanity Fair'' piece, which attempted (in great detail) to do the same thing. True, the structure of the novel made a screen adaptation a dubious undertaking, but, with Sarne at the helm of what was obviously a ''troubled'' production, it really never had a chance.

I saw "Myra Breckinridge" when it first came out in 1970. I was a healthy 20-year-old at the time, who loved movies and really liked Raquel Welsh. On top of that, I had read the Gore Vidal novel it was based on and thought it was very funny. I saw the movie at a local drive-in and about half way through I was sorely tempted to turn the motor of my car on so that maybe I'd die of monoxide poisoning and not have to see the rest of this shipwreck of a movie. It wasn't "smart" or "trendy", it was gross and sloppy. All the actors were tone deaf and the director didn't have the slightest idea what he was doing. The casting of Mae West was one of the worst casting choices in movie history. As one reviewer here said, her role had nothing to do with the movie or book. Her character in the book is sexually beaten up by the young stud, which would never do for the legendary Ms. West. Oh no, the plot is changed so she sexually beats HIM up, very believable from a 77-year-old woman who looks every DAY of her age. I could go on, but why? It was an awful movie.

Bluto

Well, I finally satisfied my curiosity and saw Myra Breckinridge. This movie has the reputation of being the worst ever made. It's not; that dishonor probably belongs to Rabbit Test, by Joan Rivers. What sinks Myra Breckinridge like the Titanic is not the bad taste -- that can be salutary in small doses -- but its incoherence. At no time did I really catch a story line being laid out. Raquel Welch was never as bad as they said, but here she's an embarrassment. Her only function seems to be modeling new, outrageous outfits by Theodora van Runkle. When she does try to emote she implodes. But far more embarrassing is Mae West. I cringed watching this ancient crone simpering and batting three-inch long eyelashes at every man in sight, attempting to look like a siren. With this role she demolished her well-earned early reputation as a sexual joker. In fact, nobody comes out of this movie unbloodied. Certainly not Rex Reed, who while not unattractive, made my skin crawl. Even the film clips from the golden age of movies are defiled by their inclusion here. This movie should never have been made, as Gore Vidal, the original author, knew. I think people who claim to enjoy it are at bottom haters of film, of celebrities, of life.

This hodge-podge adapted from a Gore Vidal novel (actually one of the great American writers) makes THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN and VALLEY OF THE DOLLS look like Fellini art-works. Raquel Welch, with an incredible body (and she's actually not very tall) in a lead role (except for KANSAS CITY BOMBER when she was quite good) playing Rex Reed's (bad movie reviewer; not critic) alter-ego, only to be surrounded by drag queen (great chick) Mae West, horny John Huston, a young and "naive" Farrah Fawcett (pre-Lee Majors; what a shame), and other various creep-azoids to pretend to spoof WAY too may things has nothing going for it except inter-spliced old films clips (i.e. Widmark in KISS OF DEATH, Lena Horne)...JUST so they can continue to bleed the life out of everyone.

A 2 out of 10. Best performance = ?. It's so bad, it's worth seeing!

"Myra Breckinridge" is one of those movies that you figure could only come out at a certain time. After Myron Breckinridge (Rex Reed) has a sex change, he becomes Myra Breckinridge (Raquel Welch), an Ber-feminist who seeks to rid Hollywood of its manhood. She moves in with Myron's uncle Buck Loner (John Huston) and promptly begins using his acting school to undermine his cowboy lifestyle. To crown everything, Myra decides that it's time for women to "ball" men, which she eventually does to a man. Mae West plays agent Leticia Van Allen, who has apparently slept with every man whom she's met.

Some people might call this movie a so-bad-it's-good flick, but I actually didn't find it so bad. Certainly, it was looking at some issues that usually didn't get addressed in movies previously. The movie also used scenes from various other movies to show what the characters are thinking. Farrah Fawcett plays Mary Ann Pringle, Myra's friend at the acting school, and Tom Selleck appears as one of Leticia's clients.

One more thing: I've seen many of Raquel Welch's movies, but until watching "Myra Breckinridge", I never realized how hot she is.

I saw this when it came out in 1970. It was really bad.

I watched it again on TCM in 2019 to see if it was still really bad.

It was.

The widow of a gay movie critic hopes to collect on her husband's inheritance, which includes a drama school in Hollywood run by her in-law, Buck Loner, a faded cowboy star. Despite 20th Century-Fox keeping this thing under-wraps for years, the notorious "Myra Breckinridge" is finally beginning to get the recognition it deserves. This Hollywood satire is indeed a misfire, but it isn't a boring one. Based on Gore Vidal's acidic book, it's an amusingly trashy, wicked and low-down look at Hollywood's loss of morals; it isn't meant to be high-brow, and Raquel Welch is ballsy and bitchy as the gal who takes on Tinsel Town. Rex Reed is her alter-ego, John Huston is perfect as Uncle Buck, Mae West is dazed but ribald as a man-hungry talent agent, and Farrah Fawcett is a sweetly stoned ingénue. Vidal (who penned one of the first screenplay drafts himself before being kicked off the project) chastised the picture but, despite some choppy editing and an uncertain direction, it's a movie perfectly in-tune with the source material. After some 30 years, the times have finally caught up with "Myra Breckinridge". **1/2 from ****

Myron Breckinridge (Rex Reed!!!) gets a sex change from a doctor (John Carradine--dead drunk) and comes out as Myra (Raquel Welch). She then decides to destroy male masculinity (or something like that) and proceeds to teach film history at an acting college run by lecherous John Huston (don't ask) and break up a young happy couple (young, handsome, hunky Roger Herren and Farrah Fawcett--yes THE Farrah Fawcett).

They took a great novel by Gore Vidal that was unfilmable and, naturally, tried to film it. They also hired an English guy with a decidedly Anti-American attitude and hired a bunch of actors with questionable "talent" (Welch, Reed) and embarassed old professionals (Huston, Carradine, Andy Devine, Jim Backus, Mae West), threw it all together and....SURPRISE!!! An absolute disaster.

The film got an X rating at its release (it's been lowered to an R), mostly because of a truly tasteless scene in which Welch sodomizes Rusty (Roger Herren) and a scene in which Welch attempts to have sex with Fawcett.

The movie is very scattershot...scenes jump all over the place and people say and do things that make no sense. It's not good at all but I was never bored.

Acting varies wildly...Reed is horrible...really sad. Huston chews the scenery again and again and AGAIN to a nauseating extreme. Welch is actually not bad as Myra but her lines make no sense so you never know what to make of her. West is hardly in the movie (a blessing) and it's really kind of sick to hear a woman almost 80 years old cracking sex jokes. Roger Herren (whatever happened to...) was very young, handsome and not bad as Rusty. Fawcett is OK.

It's hard to find things to say about this...you just watch it in disbelief. A must see movie--to believe!!!!