Blessed Event

Lee Tracy is one of the lost joys of the pre-Code era. He mostly played newspapermen (he was Hildy Johnson in the original Broadway production of The Front Page) with a sideline in press agents, and whatever his racket he epitomized the brash, fast-talking, crafty, stop-at-nothing operator. He makes Cagney look bashful, skating around in perpetual, delirious overdrive, gesticulating and spitting out his lines like an articulate machine-gun, wheedling and needling and swearing on his mother's life as he lies through his teeth. He was homely and scrawny, with a raspy nasal voice, and he always played cocky, devious scoundrels, yet you find yourself rooting for him and reveling in his sheer energy and shameless moxie. Audiences of the early thirties loved his snappy style and irrepressible irreverence; they loved him because he was nobody's fool. He's a rare example of a character actor—that guy who always plays reporters—who through force of personality, and the luck of embodying the zeitgeist, had a brief reign as a star.

In BLESSED EVENT he plays Alvin Roberts, a character based so closely on Walter Winchell that Winchell could have sued--but he probably loved it. When we first meet Alvin, he's a lowly kid from the ad department who has been given a chance to sub for a gossip columnist and gotten in trouble for filling the column with dirt—primarily announcements of who is "anticipating a blessed event" without the proper matrimonial surroundings. Soon he's become an all-powerful celebrity and made scores of enemies, including a gangster willing to bump him off to shut him up. There's a subplot about Alvin's ongoing feud with a smarmy crooner, Bunny Harmon, played by Dick Powell. Anyone who finds Powell in his crooning days repellent will appreciate Tracy's merciless vendetta. Actually, I think Powell is being deliberately irritating here—even in Busby Berkeley films he's not so egregiously perky and fey. He does sing one good song, "Too Many Tears" (a theme throughout the film), and a wonderfully witless radio jingle for "Shapiro's Shoes."

Alvin's standard greeting is, "What do you know that I don't?" The answer is nothing—at least not for long. But he's surrounded by worthy foils. Ruth Donnelly is both tart and peppery as Alvin's harried secretary ("You want to see Mr. Roberts? Oh, you want to sue Mr. Roberts. The line forms on the left.") Allen Jenkins, who keeps saying he's from Chicago even though his Brooklyn accent could be cut with a steak knife, plays a mug sent by his gangster boss to threaten Roberts. In a mind-blowing scene, Alvin terrifies the tough guy with a graphic, horrifying description of death in the electric chair. Tracy plays this monologue with unholy gusto; if you're not opposed to the death penalty, you will be after this. There's a funny scene in which Jenkins has to pass time with Alvin's sweet, clueless mother, who is continually thwarted in her desire to listen to the Bunny Harmon Hour on the radio. The usual suspects fill out the cast, those character actors whose very predictability is their glory: Ned Sparks the perennial gloomy pickle-puss; Frank McHugh the perennial hapless nebbish; Jack La Rue the perennial menacing hoodlum. Director Roy Del Ruth (who also helmed the wildly entertaining BLONDE CRAZY) keeps BLESSED EVENT going like a popcorn-maker; the sly, outrageous zingers just keep coming.

Lee Tracy's career never recovered after he was fired from MGM for a drunken indiscretion committed in Mexico. But I doubt he could have lasted long as a star after the Code anyway, since his films are gleefully amoral, frequently demonstrating that crime—or at least lying, cheating and riding roughshod over other people's feelings—pays. Every Lee Tracy vehicle contains a moment when he realizes he's gone too far, usually when the girl he fancies bursts into tears and tells him off. (Here he crosses the line in a big way when he betrays a desperate young woman who begs him not to reveal her pregnancy.) He looks suddenly abashed, protesting, "Gee, if I'd known you felt that way…I'd give anything not to have done that…Baby, sugar, listen…!" But two second later he's back to his old scheming ways. A reformed Lee Tracy would be like Fred Astaire with arthritis. Not that he isn't a good guy deep down…well, maybe. He has charm, anyway: an impish grin and twinkly eyes and boyish blond hair, like Tom Sawyer crossed with a Tammany Hall fixer. His reactions to sentimentality—to Dick Powell's cloying tenor or Franchot Tone in BOMBSHELL telling Jean Harlow he'd like to run barefoot through her hair—are delicious. He's salt and vinegar, no sweetening. In BLESSED EVENT Alvin has a fit when an editorial calls him the "nadir" of American journalism. Lee Tracy, on the other hand, represents is the zenith of the American newspaper movie.

This isn't the first time I've raved about Roy del Ruth's Warners work prior to the emergence of the Hays Office, but it needs to be restated: few directors had as sure a hand with fast-paced, cynical comedy as Del Ruth. And, when teamed with the equally forgotten (and equally inspired) comedian Lee Tracy, what results is one of the best comedies of the 30s, as funny and audacious today as then. Tracy (who came West to Hollywood after originating the Hildy Johnson role in THE FRONT PAGE on Broadway) was the wisecrack-slinger all others are measured against; here he's so good, so inspired at mixing verbal and physical comedy, you'll be wondering how it's possible his career didn't soar for 25 years. (Besides his heavy drinking, which couldn't have helped him, he earned the wrath of Louis B Mayer during the shooting of VIVA VILLA by urinating on the Mexican army from his hotel balcony, effectively ending his career as a leading man. Or so the legend has it.) This is probably his best film, playing a Winchell-like columnist named Alvin Roberts, and Tracy plays him with such cheerful unscrupulousness you might almost forgot what a rat the real Winchell was. But this is pre-Code Warners, where even an unprincipled cur could be a hero so long as he scraped bottom with zest and pluck; don't be surprised at the many one-liners and situations that would become taboo in three years time: abortions, adultery, homosexuality and ethnicity are all fair game for BLESSED EVENT's satirical arrows, and only an insufferable prude would stifle his laughter. Not until Preston Sturges played chicken with the Hays Office in the early 40s would such darkly funny farce be allowed on the screen again. Keep an eye out for this one and prepare to become a Lee Tracy fan for life. As usual, Del Ruth's direction is dead on the money, while never calling attention to itself.

"Blessed Event" is a parody of its time and of the media and entertainment of its day including newspapers and radio. But one wonders how exaggerated it really is. The sensationalism of the press and rise of yellow journalism was a frequent part of movie plots in the 1930s. But this one treats of another aspect as well - gossip.

Lee Tracy plays Alvin Roberts, who quickly becomes a famous New York gossip columnist. The movie is billed as a drama and comedy. While there is comedy in Robets' character and some of the funny things he says, the drama of the film isn't lost on the audience. We soon feel the distastefulness of Roberts' gossip column. We soon see the inconsiderate character that he becomes. We soon see his ego and pride and relish for the power he has assumed. These are sad situations, and the film shows the tragic results of such power and behavior. Of course, amidst all of this we have occasional funny lines or clever comments.

This film could be a biopic of a real person. Other reviewers have pointed this out. Roberts is as an obvious copy of Walter Winchell who was then on the rise as the king of gossip. Winchell was the original gossip columnist of Broadway and New York. He rose to such power through the press that politicians, the rich and famous, sports celebrities, gangsters, and actors feared him or tried to get close to him. Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons would become the Walter Winchells of Hollywood.

Lee Tracy's high-pitched voice and rapid-fire delivery closely emulate Winchell's persona. Although carried to the extreme for this film, those also were natural characteristics of Tracy. For a time, he was a leading actor in great demand. Some of his real lifestyle was similar to Winchell's. He was arrogant and seemed to bathe in the power of his position. Tracy also lived a racy, reckless, self-centered life. His temper, rowdiness and bad manners earned him a "bad-boy" reputation. He was given the boot from MGM after a public incidence in Mexico during filming of a movie there. Tracy urinated in public off a balcony and got in fisticuffs with the police.

His later roles about hard-bitten, muck-racking, sensationalist reporters soon wore thin with the public. Tracy returned to the stage and later ended up on television in supporting roles. He had a successful marriage and apparently tamed down before his 1968 death from cancer at age 70.

Winchell's fortunes were quite different. From the mid-1930s on, his star continued to rise through the 1950s. He had his own radio show and his newspaper column was syndicated in more than 2,000 papers worldwide. Winchell was very controversial. He had powerful friends and enemies. He was the first media personality to attack Adolf Hitler and the rise of Nazism. He also hated Communism and attacked the National Maritime Union during World War II as being a communist front. He admired Franklin D. Roosevelt and was invited to the White House. He also liked J. Edgar Hoover. Winchell was one of the earliest and most outspoken supporters of civil rights for African Americans. He attacked the Ku Klux Klan and other racist groups. He also supported Sen. Joseph McCarthy's efforts to ferret out communists in Hollywood.

Winchell held court at the Stork Club in New York for years. But by the late 1950s, his appeal began to wane. And, his power dropped quickly. His family life was unstable and unconventional and experienced sad deaths. He lived alone his last two years in the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. He died of cancer at age 74 in 1968.

In this movie, Tracy's Roberts says repeatedly, "Pride ain't power." He has a few funny lines. "I almost starved to death for two weeks," was one. The story is all about so-called "entertainment journalism." The supporting cast are fine, with Mary Brian doing an excellent job as Gladys Price, Roberts' secretary and right-hand man.

This movie is interesting in its snapshot of the time and its parodies. It has some historical value for that reason. The cast and production values are all good. And, it's somewhat entertaining.

I was a bit torn on this one--I wasn't sure whether to give it a 7 or an 8. Either way, it's a very good little film. Apparently, James Cagney was supposed to originally star in the movie but Lee Tracy eventually got the role. This film is a very good fit for Tracy, as he was the only guy at Warner Brothers who could talk as fast as Cagney---or even faster! Tracy plays a Walter Winchell-like muckraking journalist. His scruples are minimal and he seems very willing to stretch the truth in order to tell a good story---even if it means hurting a few people in the process. Because of this, his fiancé isn't sure whether she should marry him and she begs Tracy to find another line of work. But, it's obvious Tracy LOVES the work--he lives, eats and breathes this sort of scandal. Along the way, there are a few juicy stories you see in the film--including a funny one with Allen Jenkins as a mobster and a distraught pregnant lady who is at her wits end.

The film works well because of its style and fast-paced script. A few very choice scenes also spice things up. The best is Tracy as he's giving a VERY vivid account of what it's like to be electrocuted--as Jenkins recoils in horror. My favorite was the cop at the end after he caught a shooter--seeing him slap the guy around was very funny (even if it does violate the crook's Constitutional rights). Plus, I saw one scene where Ned Sparks actually looked like he was about to smile! All in all, an incredibly breezy and enjoyable little film.

By the way, although the ending and overall message is very different, another great film about muckraking journalism is "Five Star Final" (1931) and it sure appears as if Warner Brothers was strongly inspired by this previous film to make "Blessed Event".

Fast paced and very clever Lee Tracy vehicle playing a Walter W. type gossip columnist with a grudge against "crooners"generally and one in particular played by Dick Powell. Definitely precode with dialogue and subject matter that would have been totally rejected just a few years later. One scene culminates in a phrase spoken by Tracy's"mother" containg a word that rocked the film world at the end of Gone With the Wind. Among other wonderful sequences watch for Tracy's evocation of a trip to the "hot seat", and Dick Powell's rendition of a singing commercial extolling the qualities of"Shapiro's Shoes". With Shapiro himeself beaming at his side. Do catch this film also a similar effort also with Tracey "The Half Naked Truth".