(1958, Morton DaCosta)
A Rosalind Russell tour-de-force. Her portrayal of an counter-culture New Yorker attempting to expose her nephew to the bohemian side of life continues to stand the test of time. The film, however, relies on hacky jokes and dated references to upper-crust stodginess, which push the film toward complete camp. It’s all about Ms. Russell’s Mame, however, who grounds the story with her outpouring of emotion for her beloved nephew.
Haven’t seen it in years, but figured I’d give it another look. An odd thing: I think Russell changes hair color four times throughout the film, and she always looks natural.