Quite a few changes have been made in the movie version of the novel. Entirely new characters have been added (General Smight, Zero, Lolita, Conchita, Marquita), and others have been considerably metamorphosed (e.g. Doctor Howard Johns into an underground movie director and the sham philosopher into a genuine mystic), while others have been eliminated altogether (e.g. Tab Hutchins, who figures in Mephesto's amusing non-sequitur about war not accomplishing anything, and of course the Kingsleys who are the catalysts for Livia's account of a projected TV program – easily the most hilarious episode in the book – plus Peter Uspy of the Cracker Foundation, Jack Catt and Tom Smart). The plot of the movie, whilst it more or less follows the broad outlines of the book, has not only been considerably altered in details, but some of the best scenes are missing.

I guess I simply missed the humor in this "Supposed" spoof of the 60s and the military. (I have to say Austin Powers (Another spoof) is Jason Bourne compared to this movie). This film stands out as an all-time baddie, without a single redeeming factor about it. The worst part of this is the waste of the cast. I cannot imagine how you can possibly put Marlon Brando, Richard Burton, James Coburn, Walter Matthau, Elsa Martinelli and John Huston in a film and fail? This certainly does and it starts with a script that is so stupid I would sooner watch a marathon of Sponge Bob square pants. The main character Candy (Ewa Aulin) wanders through this film like she is basically stoned, and you could watch a porn film and find a wider degree of expressions on someone's face (Basically she makes Jenna Jameson look like Meryl Streep). Burton as a stupid poet named McPhisto (Which I guess is a takeoff on Dylan Thomas) comes out worst of all, it is by far and away the worst film he ever made, and Matthau as a General is not much better (And as a major comic actor should have known better)). I have seen films its compared to such "The Magic Christian" and "Casino Royale" (Sellers version) and they are better than this turkey. This film is without question the greatest waste of talent in motion picture history (Brando, Coburn, Matthau & Huston FOUR Oscar WINNERS (Burton nominated 7 times)), and thus belongs in my 10 All-Time worst film list (Not quite "Machete" or "Walk On The Wild Side" but pretty damn close). Essentially it warrants zero stars.

This is garbage. It's basically a series of rape fantasies. Any satire is merely incidental. I'm not sure what's even supposed to be being satirized here. People who find rape and incest offensive? Put me on that list. I tried to push through that and was waiting for some greater point to be made, but the girl literally goes from scenario to another where she is raped. And it's not a statement about rape, everyone in the production seems to really be getting off on the message. The sixties seems to have been a time when if you wanted to mock someone or someone else's values you just created a stereotype and threw stones at it. Nonetheless this is a really offensive movie, and not in the sense that someone is trying to bring some issue to the forefront by satirizing it. I get the legitimate sense watching this that someone really got off on issues like rape and incest and wanted to make a movie about it. Not entertaining. Bummer, man, bummer.

When I first saw this, on its release, I laughed until I thought I'd pop a gut. I didn't laugh so much this time around but then I don't laugh as much as I used to -- at anything.But look at that cast: Burton, Huston, Brando, Aznavour, Coburn, Pallenberg, Matthau, among others. And some talent behind the camera as well.It's easy to dismiss this as just one more disorganized non sequitur from the 1960s, chaos trying to pass for art, but it's really more serious than that. I suppose "serious", in that context, should be in quotation marks. Yes, it's a kaleidoscopic jumble but there's an uncanny continuity underneath the overt narrative. The novel, after all, was written by Terry Southern, who gave us "Doctor Strangelove" among other satirical works of the 1960s. Some of his send ups are more whimsical than others but they're hardly pointless.Among the targets skewered here: the reverence in which high-echelon surgeons are held (and in which they hold themselves); the American propensity to protect itself and the rest of the world by military intervention; the charisma of alcoholic poets (I think Southern missed the boat on that one, at least as far as American students are concerned); the crypto-mysticism of Eastern philosophy so fashionable in the 60s; the nouvelle vague films that flooded the art houses; gay bars in Greenwich Village; the longing that some Irish cops have to bust heads over what they perceive as "infractions"; the Circum-Mediterranean virginity mystique; and the patronizing and politically correct attitude towards the disabled and deformed.Southern's novel (I don't know who Mason Hoffenberg is, but I can't find any trace of him in the book) is funnier than the movie, and sexier too. For whatever reasons, it's difficult to transpose Southern's written work to the screen. "The Magic Christian," a story with enormous wit, flopped as a movie. But when it's Southern who's writing the adaptation, the movies generally turn out pretty well -- "The Loved One," for instance, which did a good job of capturing some of Evelyn Waugh's humor while adding some absurdities of Southern's own. That movie introduced us to the word "PRE-vert." Here, the narrative explores and explodes some of the most primitive verities of the Western world in the 1960s, not all with equal success. And sometimes director Marquand goes over the top with the special effects. John Astin doesn't really belong in the movie. The other principal actors seem to know the meaning of debauchery but Astin works too hard at hipness, only to achieve hepness. Ringo Starr isn't an actor. Too bad all the performances weren't up to the level of the short guy who played the blue-eyed eager Irish cop (Joey Forman?).It's not a masterpiece and some episodes are more amusing than others but, then, what is perfection? A petty illusion of the material world, unworthy of definition, as Marlon Brando's phony guru might put it, a complete ascetic when he's not secretly gobbling down salami and beer. It's colorful. It's funny. It features the calf-like eyes and robust figure of Miss Teenage Sweden. What more can you ask for -- a return to the innocence of the early 1960s?