It's not the amiable performance of Dick Van Dyke, emerging as a star.
It's not the fresh-from-the-shower Janet Leigh as Rosie.
It's not the pretty good Broadway score.
It's not the always-funny Paul Lynde, leering and lavender, an unlikely mouthpiece for the eternal frustrations of fatherhood. (Kids! I don't know what's wrong with these kids today!)
It's certainly not the hokey and unconvincing and undangerous Elvis/Conway Twitty rock'n'roller who looks like he just came from a gig at the used car lot.
And it's not the silly subplots involving Russians and amphetamines and Ed Sullivan (although nice to see the wooden, totemic variety show host reanimated again.)
It is, of course, Ann-Margaret, impossibly young and beautiful.
But let's be more specific. It is not her sinfully delicious performance generally.
It is this: Ann-Margaret, alone before a backdrop, singing the theme at the very beginning and end of the movie. It is Ann Margaret fired up with sensual energy and burning through a song that is not inherently sexy.
Oh, Lord: righteous.
I was 13. I saw the movie, but *experienced* Ann-Margaret's opening and closing.
I've never recovered.
It's not the fresh-from-the-shower Janet Leigh as Rosie.
It's not the pretty good Broadway score.
It's not the always-funny Paul Lynde, leering and lavender, an unlikely mouthpiece for the eternal frustrations of fatherhood. (Kids! I don't know what's wrong with these kids today!)
It's certainly not the hokey and unconvincing and undangerous Elvis/Conway Twitty rock'n'roller who looks like he just came from a gig at the used car lot.
And it's not the silly subplots involving Russians and amphetamines and Ed Sullivan (although nice to see the wooden, totemic variety show host reanimated again.)
It is, of course, Ann-Margaret, impossibly young and beautiful.
But let's be more specific. It is not her sinfully delicious performance generally.
It is this: Ann-Margaret, alone before a backdrop, singing the theme at the very beginning and end of the movie. It is Ann Margaret fired up with sensual energy and burning through a song that is not inherently sexy.
Oh, Lord: righteous.
I was 13. I saw the movie, but *experienced* Ann-Margaret's opening and closing.
I've never recovered.