Woodyanders Review of Myra Breckinridge

Myra Breckinridge (1970)

A stunningly ghastly marvel of pure cinematic foulness

[9/10 · 27 February 2009]

This fetid stinkbomb of a film has a notorious reputation as one of the worst movies to ever ooze its disgusting way onto celluloid. Is it really that bad? Well, yes it is, but it's often so strange and perverse that it ultimately becomes downright mesmerizing in its unapologetic freakishness. Raquel Welch, looking absolutely gorgeous and carrying herself with admirable flair and poise, gives it all she's got as Myra Breckinridge, a ruthless, predatory and venomous femme fatale who tries to nab a sizable inheritance from blustery millionaire acting school dean Buck Loner (an outrageously hammy John Huston) and cheerfully destroys any hapless males and females who get in her lethal way. You see, Myra was originally the preening homosexual Myron (a terrible and insufferably smug performance by popular movie critic Rex Reed) prior to having a successful sex change operation (done by none other than John Carradine!). Director/co-writer Michael Sarne delivers a brutal no-holds-barred satire on Hollywood decadence, libertine permissiveness run insanely amok, and the swingin' early 70's sexual revolution which unmercifully mocks both the stuffy old guard and hip youth culture with equal seething disdain; this fierce in-your-face mean-spiritedness gives the picture a shocking acidic edge that certainly isn't subtle or sophisticated, but still gets the nasty job done in a hilariously vicious way all the same. The hysterically broad acting further enhances the all-out lunacy: an aged, yet spry Mae West is positively sidesplitting as blithely bawdy talent agent Leticia Van Allen (the sequence with West heartily belting out "Hard to Handle" on stage is a total gut-busting riot), Calvin Lockhart camps it up to the ninth degree as fey gay Irving Arnadeus, Farrah Fawcett is a bit too convincing for comfort as giggly bimbo Mary Ann Pringle, Roger Herren likewise does dumb with unnerving conviction as macho stud Rusty Godowski (the scene which depicts Myra joyfully sodomizing Rusty is genuinely sick and startling), and Tom Selleck sans trademark mustache even makes his ignominious film debut as one of Van Allen's handsome and virile boy toys. Moreover, there's also lots of clips from vintage golden oldie 30's features edited into the main narrative throughout; this just throws the picture even more off kilter and hence adds to the bizarrely entrancing train wreck quality of the whole misguided enterprise. Now, this isn't a good film by any conventional standards, but man is this wonderfully wretched abomination a one-of-a-kind piece of remarkably vile and depraved kitsch.