Cult Movies #3 & #4 (Part One)

So far, 2025 has been a long haul and it's only March. In the weeks since my last post, much has happened, most of it not good. And by not good, I mean really, really god-awfully not good. So not good that I've stopped watching the ABC Evening News, listening to NPR and reading The Guardian online. BECAUSE. I. JUST. CAN'T. I just can't. End of story. 

It was during this long, dark night of the soul that, in a moment of pique/funk/desperation (take your pick) I got into my movie collection and dug out two X-rated blasts from the past that were released in 1970, courtesy of none other than 20th Century-Fox. In 1970, it came as something of a shock that a prestigious studio like Fox would dip its toes in the dirty pictures business, but the times they were a-changin' and Fox badly needed a reversal of fortune after releasing a steady stream of box-office flops. Besides, hadn't the X-rated Midnight Cowboy proved to be a prestigious moneymaker for United Artists the previous year? With 35-year-old nepo baby Richard Zanuck (son of Darryl F.) in charge, the studio jumped--somewhat belatedly--on the edgy, adult-market bandwagon. Alas, Myra Breckinridge was no Midnight Cowboy, and for that matter, neither was Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, but more about that one later. 

Based on Gore Vidal's transgressive 1968 bestseller, Myra Breckinridge features Raquel Welch as a woman on a mission to "ensure the destruction of the last vestigial traces of manhood in the race in order to realign the sexes, thus reducing population while increasing human happiness and preparing for its next stage." Whew. (The line makes more sense in the book but if you haven't read it, you might find yourself wondering WTF?). With this mission statement in mind, movie-mad Myra heads directly to Hollywood to fulfill her destiny and lay claim to her late husband Myron's inheritance. Because Myron's estate includes a chunk of prime Tinseltown real estate, newly widowed Myra is ready to cash in. The fly in the ointment: Myron's Uncle Buck (John Huston), a former cowboy star who has established an extremely lucrative acting school on the property. 

It turns out that Uncle Buck--unlike many of his students--is no bonehead, and suspecting that Myra is not who she claims to be, immediately begins stonewalling. However, in order to temporarily placate Myra, Uncle Buck hires her to give etiquette lessons to his stable of aspiring young stars while his lawyer attempts to sort out Myra's story. What we, the audience already know--and Uncle Buck doesn't--is that Myra and Myron are one and the same person, Myron having undergone an operation that has transformed him into the vengeful sex goddess/misandrist out to upend the social order. Eager to get on with her plans, Myra quickly becomes a pain in Uncle Buck's backside, and his initial lust for this, admittedly, spectacular creature sours considerably. 

Meanwhile, Myra is forming alliances with some of her students, most notably empty-headed stud, Rusty (Roger Herren), and his nubile girlfriend, Mary Ann (a very young Farrah Fawcett). And then Mae West shows up as a casting agent-cum-sex magnet who has installed a bed in her office to audition the daily conga lines of young, male talent who line up outside her door. Because, why not?  (Incidentally, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Tom Selleck plays one of her bedmates)

So, a little background on Mae's Myra stint: after demanding top-billing, the 77-year-old West agreed to come out of retirement to play Letitia Van Allen, a super-sexed vixen who is irresistible to all the hot and horny actors who come a-calling (and they are legion). It's a role that Mae West could have played in her prime, which was, incidentally, in the 1930's and early 1940's. By the time she filmed Myra Breckinridge, West closely resembled an overstuffed panty hose doll wearing Cleopatra eyelashes. West took her role (and her legendary status) seriously enough to make a plethora of demands (all of which were granted) before setting foot on a soundstage. She oversaw her own lighting, wrote her own dialogue and had her own makeup artist on hand to keep her beautified. She also sang a song. West's attempts to upstage Welch, the film's actual star, only added to the film's behind-the-scenes tumult.

 

Meanwhile, in front of the camera, Myra falls hopelessly in love with the luscious and unattainable Mary Ann, applies a strap-on accoutrement to a bound Rusty's behind (a pain in the ass at its most literal), and then climbs onto a table, lifts her skirt and flashes her junk to Uncle Buck and his attorneys. Apparently, this proves that Myra is Myron, although if Myron had that operation in Denmark, would his manly bits still be hanging around to shock and horrify the men at the conference table? I don't know, I'm still scratching my head. 

Throughout the film, there's a plethora of ill-conceived scenes from Golden Age movies inserted into Myra's storyline. I guess the director thought this would be funny but few viewers were amused. Former child star Shirley Temple was sufficiently incensed by her inclusion that she called upon then-California governor Ronald Reagan to halt the movie's release. 

Myra Breckinridge was director Michael Sarne's second movie and I have to wonder if he had any grasp at all on the satiric nature of Vidal's novel (for his part, Gore Vidal had his name removed from the movie credits). Sarne's direction seems tone-deaf and abrasively condescending; unsurprisingly, his career never recovered from the Myra Breckinridge debacle. (There is an interesting interview with him in the DVD extras, in which he still seems not to understand why the movie was such a huge embarrassment.)

It goes without saying that Myra Breckinridge has not aged well. I can't imagine it being made for today's touchy audiences: it is politically incorrect, largely unfunny and often downright hateful. Having said all that, Myra is not without its charms. Raquel Welch gives the title role her best shot and does manage a few amusing moments when she isn't hobbled by the incoherent script. Myra is a role that Welch was born to play, and with a better screenplay and different director, she might have really nailed the part and knocked the socks off the naysayers who scoffed at her efforts to be taken seriously. Film critic Rex Reed (was he always the mean-spirited ogre he is now?) is surprisingly good as Myron, who appears frequently for intimate chats with his alter-ego. Reed seems to have had a natural talent for acting and certainly had the looks to be in films. John Huston is also raunchily entertaining as Uncle Buck but then John Huston can do no wrong so take that for what it's worth. And as much as I ragged on Mae West earlier, she's still ridiculously fun to watch, (in a campy, drag-queeny sort of way--I guess it's no surprise that this movie has been embraced by generations of gay men). It's also good to see other aging actors like John Carradine, Andy Devine, Jim Backus and Grady Sutton cast in cameo roles. 

With Myra bombing so spectacularly with both movie critics and at the box office, one wonders what level of trepidation 20th Century-Fox harbored over the fate of the just-released Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Directed by King of the Nudies, Russ Meyer, and featuring a large cast of voluptuous unknowns, this film promised to be as controversial as Myra, inspiring fury from Valley of the Dolls author Jacqueline Susann before it was even released. But would it make money for the floundering studio? Would Zanuck Jr. be vindicated for taking on a second X-rated project? Stay tuned.