Now I'll Tell

As I write these comments, the repercussions from the O.J. Simpson book/TV show/media blitz over his "If I Did It" book are still rumbling through the news. This movie is based on a 'work of fiction' by the widow of Arnold Rothstein, the notorious gambler who may have fixed the 1919 World Series -- the infamous 'Black Sox Scandal.' Of course, the wife of the gambler is portrayed as open, loving and entirely unaware of the slimy side of her husband's dealings. Watching this movie, thoughts of self-serving bits of keyhole fictions kept popping up, making me generally disgusted with it, its chipper moron of a heroine and annoyed at Spencer Tracy's, as usual, straightforward and excellent portrayal of a bad guy. While it can work, here, with the general sense of disingenuity that beclouds the entire proceedings, the effect is disgusting.

This is a shame, because Tracy is surrounded by actors and actresses who actually can get in a scene with him and inhabit the same universe -- all too often in this period, Tracy seemed to be the only genuine human being in these productions. Henry O'Neill is fine as the old friend of Tracy's who is now an honest cop and is intent on putting him in jail, and who will not even accept a toy for his daughter, played by Shirley Temple. It's also fun to watch Alice Faye, who is in her platinum blonde phase, playing a voracious gold digger. After the Code began to be enforced, she would turn into a sweet-tempered lady on the screen. But they can't save this smarmy whitewash job.

Nowadays, Now I'll Tell is promoted as an early Shirley Temple movie, but if you're watching it for her, you'll be severely disappointed. She's got sixty seconds of screen time. This is a Spencer Tracy movie, and not a good one. This is a movie that should have cemented his career as unlikable jerks and relegated him to B-pictures forever after. Instead, he went on to play leading men for decades.

In this drama, Spencer is married to Helen Twelvetrees and rises in the ranks of the seedy gambling world to own his own casino. Winning fortunes isn't enough for him, he insists on taking bigger and bigger risks, dabbling in horse racing, boxing rigging, and getting involved with dangerous mobsters. Helen doesn't want any part of that lifestyle, and since they don't even have children, she has no comforts in her lonely life. Spence, in the meantime, does anything he pleases, including keeping mistresses. His latest cutie-pie is Alice Faye, a nightclub singer, and he puts her up in an apartment, covers her in furs, and gives her a hundred-thousand-dollar trust fund. Alice completely lives up to her promoted image of "the singing Jean Harlow" in this movie. She looks so much like her, it sure served 20th Century Fox well for ten years! Her black feathered costume while vamping "Foolin' with the Other Woman's Man" looks very similar to Jean's negligee in The Girl from Missouri.

I didn't like this movie for the plain reason that I don't like Spencer Tracy. He's so unlikable and so conceited, I could hardly stand to watch his scenes. If Edward G. Robinson were in the lead, it would have been an infinitely better movie.

Rise and fall of a gambler based on the life of Arnold Rothstein from a book by his former wife. Episodic and not particularly interesting. Some nice women's costumes and Alice Faye as the girlfriend (definitely not the wife) can shake it when she gets a chance. Spencer Tracy is on screen most of the picture but can't get past the thick layer of 'crime does no pay' in the script.

Just saw this film at a private screening - based on the life of a real gangster - featuring a young "Spence" who is absolutely dynamite. He plays a charming scoundrel who works his way up financially within the underworld via running a gambling joint - fixing fights helping wealthy businessmen out of fixes, etc. And Alice Faye is "Harlowlike" in her second screen role. If you like or love Spencer Tracy - this is a must see film. Sadly, the film survives from a pieced together reconstruction - based on a work print - and thus is a little rough around the edges - with numerous splices which mars some of the dialogue. Nonetheless - a real treat.

"Now I'll Tell You" was a bit familiar and a bit of a rerun. It mirrored several gambler/gangster movies of that era. The formula is known. A gambler starts small, makes it big, and takes a fall.

Murray Golden (Spencer Tracy) was a small-time gambler who was as crooked as the day is long. If he could fix a fight, a race, or a roulette wheel, he would do it. He started as a nickel-and-dime gambler and worked is way up to a big shot.

He was also lucky. And he attributed his luck to his gilded wife, Virginia (Helen Twelvetrees). She was in love with Murray, and even though she disdained his lifestyle, she couldn't leave him. He kept her stored away in a nice apartment while he tended to his gambling and catted around with his side piece Peggy Warren (Alice Faye). Virginia was so tucked away and so trusting that the entire outside world knew about Peggy while Virginia was clueless. Peggy was his outside woman, whom he saw more of than his own wife, while Virginia was his homebound woman whom he could not dispense with. As much as he lied to and cheated on Virginia, he would do anything for her (except stop cheating and gambling).

That's always a funny line: "I'll do anything for you." Most of the time the people who say that don't fully mean it. Like the Meatloaf lyrics:

"I'll do anything for love, but I won't do that."

Golden would do anything for Virginia except the two things she wanted most of all for him to do. I guess love has its limits.

"Now I'll Tell You" wasn't anything special. It was fairly rote and lacked anything distinguishable. Fox Film Corp went with a flat movie that was probably considered safe and easy. Spencer Tracy isn't going to float anyone's boat, but he was a known face, and Helen Twelvetrees (the little we saw of her) was more of a second tier actress; recognizable enough, but not a very big star. If there was any good reason to watch this movie, it was for the sixty seconds or so of Shirley Temple. Who can resist her smile?

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