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6.3/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.3/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Belle of the Nineties remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have zero patience for movies that feel like a stage play taped for television, skip it. But if you’re here for Mae West just being Mae West—dripping in diamonds and tossing out lines that probably made the censors sweat—you’ll have a grand time.
People who need a tight, logical plot will likely hate this. People who enjoy watching someone completely dominate every frame they are in will love it.
The plot is basically just a scaffold for her to stand on. She moves to New Orleans, she sings, she wears hats that look like they have their own zip code. There’s a jewel theft involved, but honestly, I stopped caring about the stolen ice about ten minutes in. It’s just an excuse to get her into the next scene.
There’s this moment where she’s just staring down a room full of people, and the camera lingers for so long it almost feels like the director forgot to yell cut. She doesn't blink. She just owns the silence. It’s weirdly hypnotic.
Watching this made me think of the tone in Midnight Blues, where the atmosphere does more work than the actual script. It doesn't have the same grit, but there's a similar feeling of characters just drifting through their own personal drama while the world happens around them.
It’s not a masterpiece. It’s not even a particularly good mystery. But watching Mae West deal with Ace Lamont and that whole mess of a nightclub? It’s pure, unadulterated swagger. 💃
Sometimes the movie gets so caught up in her outfits that the story completely grinds to a halt. I’m okay with that, honestly. Who cares about the jewels when the dress has that much fringe?