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.
Review of Myra Breckinridge
