Everyone is surely familiar with this most famous of stories  a heartless businessman is visited by the ghost of his dead partner on Christmas Eve and warned that if he continues in his uncaring ways then he will be doomed to an afterlife in chains. So that he can avoid his partner's fate he is visited by three spirits who show him visions of Christmases past, present and yet to come, so that he will hopefully see the error of his ways before it is too late. A rather morbid tale one might think, but it is classic Charles Dickens, and also one of the most famous and popular Christmas stories of all time.
To me this is the definitive version of Dickens' timeless story; it's the one I always remember watching in school, and I remember being absolutely terrified by it! The ghost of Jacob Marley, the final scene with the ghost of Christmas present under the bridge, and the ghost of Christmas yet-to-come especially I found very frightening. How on earth did the film gain the 'U' certificate? (For non-UK readers 'U' is the lowest classification, it means family friendly and children welcome, nothing to scare them etc... This is certainly not the case though, as some smaller children will undoubtedly find the final segment positively terrifying with the grim reaper-like spectre of Christmas future.
Be that as it may, from the many versions of this classic story I have seen adapted for film, this is possibly the most faithful to the book. Most notably included is a segment rarely seen in film adaptations of the original text - that of the ghost of Christmas present showing Scrooge the two children hidden under his robe (you'd never get away with a scene like that nowadays!). The two children represent Ignorance and Need (although changed to Want in this film).
Criticisms for me however become apparent having watched it again with more objective and trained eyes, the main one of which being that George C. Scott's portrayal of Scrooge seems simply not cold enough. He laughs too much. I don't want to use the word jolly because of course Ebeneezer is anything but, but he does seem to be merely a grumpy old man, rather than the positively unkind, cold and uncaring man that he is in the book and other films. Patrick Stewart portrayed him excellently in one of the most recent versions filmed, and Michael Caine, despite acting alongside the Muppets, was positively cold. Further, the development of the character over the course of the film as he learns more about the error of his ways and grows towards redemption is unconvincing and appears inconsistent. He appears to have changed little by the time he reaches the third spirit's final lesson.
But ignoring this one (albeit major) quibble, it is still a spellbinding and ultimately heart-warming Christmas tale, as all Christmas films should be. London of course looks like the perfect picturesque quaint snow-covered English town that many Americans probably imagine it still is (the truth is that even then that London was grey and grimy  and any snow would never have been so white!) And everyone is so impeccably dressed too, even the poor people look rather dapper. But of course it's a Christmas film, so why shouldn't everything look nice? Perfect holiday season viewing; coupled with copies of It's a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street and The Snowman and you've got everything you need.

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.