Myra Breckinridge (1970)
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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.
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!
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
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,
Anyway, this is the most brilliant example of camp cinema to date. The hilarious sabotaging of scenes with reaction shots from various movie stars reflects the so-called innocence of the audience (no wonder so many people find that uncomfortable!), and the film is also choked full of famous faces parodying the very images that made them famous. It has all the camp and surreal qualities of Gore Vidal's book, and it retains most of his incredible dialogue. It is also one of the best movies about Hollywood and the jerks who work there. And last but not least, Raquel Welsh should be most proud of her performance. I cannot imagine anyone else in this role because she is not only wonderful, she completely turns the tables on the stereotypes she personified to men throughout her career. She was a wonderfully cheesy sex goddess, and here she finally has a chance to ahem, be in the driver's seat. It's all just in fun, and that's what the movie is saying. If treating women like they are just a pair of boobs is entertainment, then why can't treating men like they are just a pair of bullocks be the same?
Is it a perfect movie? Or even a great one? No. But it has great stars, some of whom turn in solid performances. It also takes an admirable approach to a pretty darn difficult subject!
I for one believe Raquel Welch does a great job as Myra and and that John Huston does a great job as Buck Loner. Roger Herren and Farrah Fawcett are also good as the innocents; they just don't have enough lines.
Mae West certainly added some box office appeal, but, in my view, that's it. Unfortunately, she wasn't willing to be Letitia (she even made Fox change the second "t" to a "c"!). Her presence simply made a tough project tougher.
And then there's the story line. Making fun of America's views of love and sex in a way that will appeal to an audience is pretty tough -- particularly when the key vehicle for making the point is a scene in which a woman (who was once a man) rapes one of her students.
My advice is that you read the book -- and laugh at it. Then see the movie -- and laugh at it to. If you think of it as "dirty," you might go so far as to think it's sick. If you think of it the way Vidal intended it, Myra B's a lot of fun!
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.
Mae West in her last 'successful' performance (in my opinion) and well worth the making of the film if only just for her - Mae has everything we ever wanted her to have.
With John Huston as a proper Hollywood creep - we love his candor, Raquel Welch is splendid as Gore Vidal's vision of her true self - Myron Breckinridge (played by Rex Reed) sex-changed into Myra Breckinridge.
This gem features a very early Farrah Fawcett in her second ever film, and Tom Selleck in his first film.
Myra Breckinridge (1970) was effectively banned by litigation carried out by Shirley Black (Shirley Temple) herself who is invoked often in the film's complete original version.
When I found a video copy of Myra Breckinridge at a video shop in Seattle in 1991, I was flabbergasted; I had no idea a film had been made from the book. I had found the Gore Vidal novel in my parents' library when I was thirteen. In fact, I had read it over and over. I could not imagine that Hollywood could have produced a film of this amazing and bizarre novel; it's no wonder its screen life was cut short.
I was already trying to imagine the quintessential scene with Rusty in the infirmary and the famous West Hollywood billboard which puts Wonder Woman to shame.
I was lucky enough to have rented one of the few 'unabridged' versions which was 20 minutes longer than many other abridged versions I've seen since that have cut the flashes of Shirley Temple among other things.
I find this film to be a fine example of all the things toward which Hollywood might ACTUALLY aspire which includes a sense of humour and poking fun at one's self.
View with GUSTO! True Hollywood aficionados will appreciate this one.
There's a reason this movie works against all odds and its name is Raquel Welch. Amazonian in body, mind, and soul, she-- like the wily title character-- is a package who's wrappings belie the surprise hidden within. Here we have an ostensible Beach Goddess and Mod Pin Up who's actually a canny rule-breaker and superb light comedienne operating under the radar at Twentieth Century Fox. In Welch's hands, Myra is everything Vidal intended her to be: an androgynous avenger, a culmination of personal dreams, a being born of celluloid and "Million Dollar Movie" reruns, and a Frankensteinian force appropriating power over a drama school Adam and Eve. As much as the movie lurches from one rollicking escapade to another, Welch is the consistent element who never loses her focus and anchors events with a poise and confidence that keeps Myra from becoming a one-note caricature. All of this the lady does without a coherent script, solid direction, or unified support from her costars, no mere feat by any means. Huston makes a fine foil as the macho, out-to-pasture former movie star to Myra's dazzling Bird of Paradise and the two spar marvelously, each giving as good as they get. Reed acquits himself admirably, yet the male version role should have also gone to Welch, who could've pulled it off. It's West who gets the booby prize, though. Seeming to exist in another movie and having no meaningful interaction with the other players, she effectively muzzles her randy character and denies her the chance to rise to the challenge of becoming Myra's equal. Bump and grind as she may, she hasn't a hope of matching the fearless Welch and opts to just go through the motions of her own self-parodic one-woman burlesque show.
As with its leading lady, the film's other great iconoclastic asset is its willingness to present us with a non-mainstream character who's at once a clever homosexual male, a ball-breaking woman who continually flouts authority, a transsexual with no shame about her nature, and a social outsider ready to take on the world. Myra is no superficial pervert or mad drag menace; she's a formidable and morally ambiguous figure who isn't mandated to die so that the status quo can resume. Be it in one form or another, she lives to tell and rise again another day. In her, we ultimately see a real man and a real woman trying to reconcile themselves, while in Ms Welch we witness a true unsung talent and a genuinely brave actress fighting to be free of her own image.
I couldn't make heads or tails but loved all the Mae West sequences. She looks great and is very funny. She hadn't made a film in 27 years and she does her thing.
To my knowledge, the old time stars NEVER had a proper chance to come back, even for five minutes, in the movies. Groucho Marx certainly made amends for several turkys when he did YOU BET YOUR LIFE on TV; same with Abbott and Costello, when in their first season of filmed episodes, made us forget some very disappointing films.
So skip ahead to Mae's scenes, pop open a third beer.
Rex Reed (good-looking, but horrible) is Myron, a gay guy who gets a sex change from doctor John Carradine (terrible) and becomes Myra (Raquel Welch, who is good). Myra worms her way into her uncle Buck Loner (pathetic John Huston)'s acting academy, teaching a class on the history of motion pictures. She sodomizes a sexy southern stud and then steals his girlfriend (Farrah Fawcett!). Thrown into the mix is top-billed Mae West, who contributes what amounts to a cameo as a hideous embalmed agent who has sex with her exclusively male clients. Tom Selleck (minus mustache, but still recognizable) is one of her first studs. Add to this mess clips from old films to help "narrate" the action, two songs by West, ludicrous dialogue, Rex Reed masturbating, and a pretty dumb ending and MYRA BRECKENRIDGE may be worth seeing for fans of extremely horrible films.
Despite my love for so-bad-it's-good films (i.e., VALLEY OF THE DOLLS), BRECKENRIDGE didn't do it for me. It was just too jumbled, unlikable, and boring. Yes, boring! In-between the outrageous and tasteless sexual innuendo, there is boring dialogue and attempted humor that falls flat. Slow viewers will no doubt be confused throughout the entire film and those looking for cheap thrills will feel cheated. While women will feel fulfilled with all the hunks floating throughout the film, men will be disappointed in the lack of any female nudity. Welch does not do nude scenes, unfortunately, and Fawcett does not bare any flesh. Thank God West didn't volunteer her ample endowments!!!
MYRA BRECKENRIDGE could be fun viewing for some cult film fans, but it just didn't work for me. While some scenes do stand out (the sodomy scene, West's musical numbers), BRECKENRIDGE just was too boring for me. I actually fell asleep in the middle of it! Not highly recommended, but those who are curious owe it to themselves to at least say that they've seen it!
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.
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.
Title (Brazil): "Homem & Mulher Até Certo Ponto" ("Man & Woman Up to a Point")
Why? Too much sex, smut, queer humor? Hmmm...I would love to know what Kubrick thought of this. Deep down he must have appreciated it; it was right down his alley.
True, it's not easy to sit through. It's a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Kind of a cross between Strangelove & Loved One on some kind of weird hormonal speed. But the intercuts from old flicks are perfectly selected & timed, Raquel's performance is classic & Mae West's nigh club performance is worth the price of admission X 10.
What a cast! Imagine watching West, Welch & Fawcett in the same scene! Then there's Andy Devine, BS Pulley & Grady Sutton in the western bar. Og meets Jingles.
A classic for cinemaphiles.
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.
A 2 out of 10. Best performance = ?. It's so bad, it's worth seeing!