The movie that put Mae West on the map, 1933's She Done Him Wrong still holds up as a clever, if modest, pre-Code romp that showcases one of the most iconic figures in Hollywood history.

In fact, the picture's role in cinematic history is probably more notable than the picture itself. She Done Him Wrong single-handedly rescued Paramount from the verge of bankruptcy and elevated its voluptuous actress to superstardom. Not bad for a movie that director Lowell Sherman shot in only three weeks on a $200,000 budget. The flick went on to earn an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture.

Based on West's notorious 1928 Diamond Lil Broadway play, She Done Him Wrong is set in the freewheeling New York saloons of the 1890s. Mae portrays Lady Lou, the gal of corrupt saloonkeeper Gus Jordan (Noah Beery Sr.). Unbeknownst to Lou, Jordan dabbles in prostitution and counterfeiting to keep his lady in diamonds. And unbeknownst to either of them, the good-looking mission director from next door, Captain Cummings (Cary Grant in one of his early screen roles), is an undercover police officer investigating Jordan's criminal activities.

Such shenanigans mean scheming, double-dealing and even a prison break from Lou's vicious ex-beau (Owen Moore), but the main attraction here are West's racy one-liners. There are some memorable ones in the movie's compact 66-minute running time. Early on, Lou meets Serge (Gilbert Roland), a shady associate of Jordan and the equally sinister (Rafaela Ottiano). When Serge comments that he's heard a lot about Lou, she replies, "Yeah, but you can't prove it." Later, she advises a fallen woman, "When women go wrong, men go right after them." Of course, West's Lady Lou also delivers one of the most immortal movie lines of all time, although "Why don't you come up sometime and see me?" has been tweaked over the decades into "Why don't you come up and see me sometime?"

Don't come with oversized expectations, though. The decades have taken a bit of the lust -- er, luster -- off West's litany of innuendos, double entendres and bawdy songs. Moreover, She Done Him Wrong trades in some unfortunate racial and ethnic stereotypes from that era, with Louise Beavers as Lou's obsequious black maid and an uncredited Lee Kohlmar as a penurious businessman named Jacobson.

The most problematic distraction is Mae West herself. The years have not been kind to her cartoonish persona -- the narrowed eyes, suggestively raised eyebrows, exaggerated bounce in her step. In appearance and mannerism, Lady Lou comes across as the sharpest drag queen in New York.

The black-and-white picture is in surprisingly good shape, with very little in the way of dirt and scratches. The film is presented in its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio.

The Dolby Digital 2.0 is subject to the slight hiss and muffled audio that comes with age, but most of the dialogue is clear and clean. Subtitles are in French and English for the hearing-impaired.

The Universal Cinema Classics line tends not to bother itself with supplemental material for its efforts; She Done Him Wrong is no exception. A two-minute, 17-second introduction by film historian and TCM host Robert Osborne contains a few nuggets of information. A vintage 1930s-era "Pooch the Pup" cartoon, "She Done Him Right" (7:59), is amusing.

More than 70 years since she swaggered onscreen, a dynamo of curves and suggestion, Mae West might have some difficulty maintaining relevance for today's audiences. Unlike, say, the anarchic spirit of the Marx Brothers or the misanthropy of W.C. Fields, West's libidinous persona was rendered passé long ago. That doesn't nullify She Done Him Wrong, but it does make it more of a curiosity than a truly engaging comedy.