Review #1762: Myra Breckinridge.
Cast:
Raquel Welch (Myra Breckinridge), Rex Reed (Myron Breckinridge), John Huston (Buck Loner), Mae West (Leticia Van Allen), Farrah Fawcett (Mary Ann Pringle), Roger C. Carmel (Dr. Randolph Spencer Montag), Roger Herren (Rusty Godowski), George Furth (Charlie Flager, Jr), Calvin Lockhart (Irving Amadeus), Jim Backus (Doctor), John Carradine (Surgeon), and Andy Devine (Coyote Bill) Directed by Michael Sarne.
Review:
“When you’re young, you do things sometimes that are impossible because they are impossible. There is a delight in attempting the extraordinary, the immensely difficult merely because it is so. Myra Breckinridge for me became more and more this kind of challenge, the chance to say what I believed was ultimately anarchic and satirical.” - Michael Sarne
“There was this strange bouquet of personalities that were attached to this film, and each one of them was bigger than life in their own sphere. And you thought, Maybe this is the best idea that ever happened, and maybe it’s the worst.” - Raquel Welch
In 1968, Gore Vidal wrote and published a novel in Myra Breckinridge. I have not read the book, but it has been called one of his most famous works, one that challenged the sexual norms of American life in culture and society while also dabbling in writing for film and television from time to time, which included un-credited work on Ben-Hur (1959); incidentally, Vidal was loosely inspired by the exploits of John “Bunny” Breckinridge, a wealthy drag queen that you would recognize from his performance in Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959). Two years later, an adaptation of the novel was done by 20th Century Fox to the derision of Vidal and numerous critics, for which a half century has not quite seen a rehabilitation of what has been considered a turkey of its time. Keep in mind, Hollywood now had a rating system rather than a Production Code, and it followed a decade that had seen films like Easy Rider (1969) and Midnight Cowboy (1969)...along with stuff such as Skidoo (1968). In other words, producers wanted to get with the "hip" crowd, but without getting too much into it. It was one of two X-rated films (well, at the time it was rated X, although now it is R) to be released by Fox alongside Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, which had unfavorable reviews as well, but it managed to be both a box office hit and find its own cult following (coincidentally, that movie also featured a film critic in its production). With this film, not only was the feature disowned by Vidal as a "joke" (albeit one he reportedly never saw), it effectively destroyed the career of the man who directed it as well in Michael Sarne (who occasionally dabbles in acting and painting). Vidal had the first crack at a script (of course Bud Yorkin was the first director in mind for the film), but it did not go well, because Fox (specifically producers David Brown and Richard Zanuck) apparently thought it needed to be as crazy and zany as one would think the ideas presented in the novel evoked. Sarne, who actually had a novelty hit as a singer in the 1960s, had exactly one other major studio film credit: Joanna (1968), which while not a hit at the time was at least given decent reviews. David Giler was brought in to try and deliver a script that would have apparently been a bit more straight-forward (while suggesting George Cukor to take over as director, which Sarne actually endorsed). Each would end up with a writing credit. If there ever was a more bewildering selection of cast mates for any particular movie, I'm sure this one would be one to discuss near the top. On one side, you have a star in Welch who wanted to try and escape the sex symbol status and try to aim for further legitimacy. On the other side introduces a(alleged) film critic with no prior acting experience in a key role. On another side, you have a famous director acting while the director behind the lines tells folks how much he hated his works (because he wanted Mickey Rooney, I kid you not). And, of course, Mae West, making a comeback movie while in the throes of feuding with Welch. Oh, and the debuts of Farrah Fawcett and Tom Selleck. If you think about it, any director that calls one of its stars an "old raccoon" (well, in retrospect, he stated she had a "marvelously artificial way of acting"), another a "old hack", and then spends valuable production time shooting food and "thinking"...probably got exactly what they deserved.
What do you expect from a movie that has lines such as “the destruction of the last vestigial traces of traditional manhood”? Or how about "Myra Breckinridge is a dish, and don't you ever forget it, you motherfuckers - as the children say nowadays."? My favorite was probably the one where she states as a Golden Age film nut that there wasn't an unimportant film made in Hollywood between 1935 and 1945 (????) Well, for one, you could expect a memorable experience, this much is true. Beyond the flurry of stock footage and name actors is a movie that drives exactly one thought through one's head: it is the equivalent of seeing someone trying to sing and walk while blindfolded...in a garden full of rakes (and judging by how miserable some of the folks were on the film, I would imagine that they would likely rather go through the rake rather than make the movie again if asked). In theory, this is an interesting cast to feature in a film, even with West in a pseudo-comeback move (Carradine, however, may end up being the most fitting person to have a one-note showing in an one-note movie). It starts with a bizarre dance sequence between two folks who can't quite match in rhythm (Reed and Welch) and never recovers from there. Oh, but don't even get started on the editing choices that come through a movie that acts like sitting still is a sin against nature. Sure, the biggest critique of the film at the time owed to how it managed to offend both folks that were already critical of the book (i.e. conservative audiences) AND folks that were curious to see a misguided attempt at making a studio movie of something that begs for an arthouse experience (or perhaps a French director, if we want to go further into esoteric mockery). The decision to use old film clips throughout the movie does not help matters either, since nothing of merit actually seems to be said with the clips, since this isn't exactly a worthwhile satire; sure, you can show a bunch of Laurel & Hardy clips all you want, but that isn't going to prove anything. Did I mention the twist ending? If this was the part that really sold the studio, they probably should have doubled the amount of alcohol they were drinking.
If you can believe it, Welch actually wanted to play both Myra and Myron. I can believe that she really wanted to do a movie that would give her some sort of argument for being an actress beyond what you saw (and didn't hear). In a sea of bad decisions, she manages to do the best in terms of performance, probably because she gives it a great go for this artificial role. She can laugh at the movie now, and I can appreciate her attempts at comedy (or whatever is supposed to be present here) far more than anyone else here. Well, I would make a cutting remark about Rex Reed and his attempts at acting in a debut, but having to say "where are my tits?" is humiliating enough. Besides, he seethed at making the film and later talked plenty when it came time to write of the film and its troubled production (for which there was plenty of rope to hang). Technically, Sarne has been quoted as saying he was "threatened" by Huston's presence, because, well, one would likely be quite speechless at having to direct a man would directed great movies and also acted from time to time in good ones (Sarne merely thought he couldn't act). Huston seems to doze his role with mild abandon, as if he knows that nothing he does here could possibly be the high or low point for an embarrassment like this, so being stuck in neutral is fair. Mae West had not appeared in a film since The Heat's On (1946). Of course, she had made a name for herself in the early sound-era with her raunchy presence...and she agreed to do this film provided she could write her own material. This somehow involves her having multiple music numbers. One could make a note about the dubiousness of West acting as if she is still 26, but stating that her performance seems like it is pulled out of a different movie is enough (that, and anybody who has a problem with Welch earns negative points); one could only wonder how making a flop like this did not stop her from trying to do another comeback a few years later with Sextette (1977) . It is the only film credit for Roger Herren, who either couldn't get film credits after this film or simply fell off the Earth. The infamous pegging scene probably didn't help. Of course, since it features stock footage being spliced in, it also manages to do exactly nothing with how confused it is. The supporting cast looks puzzled as to just what kind of movie they are in (yes, even Carmel), and yet the movie is always quite watchable in its dazzling failure of 94 minutes because it has dazzling style in clothing choices and in its shots that make the stuff shown on screen all the more baffling.
Well, you have read a thousand words of talking about a turkey. Would I recommend trying to find this film? If you are a curious filmgoer who likes to watch dazzling bad taste...if you are a curious filmgoer who wants to see just how bad a movie can mangle attempts at satire or attempts at something involving gender...if you are a curious filmgoer who wants to see Raquel Welch in a role that shines above the cast in the most ironic of ways...if you can stomach all that, this is the movie for you. It is the mother of all ill-conceived ideas, one too curious to be thought of as the worst of anything but deserving of a great laugh at the expense of both filmmaker and studio.
Overall, I give it 4 out of 10 stars.
Next Time: Inchon.
