Review: 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.
Now, what is this review like?
Available options:
+ negative.
+ positive.
negative