mark.waltz Having a baby? With or without the benefit of marriage? Is the proud papa somebody not listed on the marriage certificate? If reporter Lee Tracy had actually interviewed perspective mothers, those are the type of questions that he'd ask in this brittle pre-code comedy about the lack of journalistic integrity that has fast-talker Tracy spoofing the position of scandal reporter.It is obvious that many people want to help contribute to the column, but nobody wants to be mentioned in it. Gossip columns and scandal sheets have been involved in the field of journalism ever since the first newspaper was created because as everybody knows, the public demands dirt, and they don't even care if it's true.This is a surprisingly excellent study of one man's immorality in his attempts to rise to the top, and he doesn't seem to care who gets hurt. Of course, he gets too big for his britches, and when he reveals the truth about a single radio singer's impending motherhood in the newspaper (after promising not to), he creates more enemies amongst the criminal element who are involved in the paternal side of the story.Tracy was one of the oddest leading men in the early 30's, but he was excellent for pre-code, remaining a star into the 1940's with fast- talking con-men and scoundrels in a series of low budget programmers. Ruth Donnelly is a riot as the newspaper's secretary, with Ned Sparks delightfully cranky as a fellow reporter. In his film debut, Dick Powell adds a realistic backdrop as a nightclub singer whose songs surround the scandalous atmosphere with period authenticity. To utilize recent events that attracted public attention, Tracy even mentions the Ruth Snyder electrocution, going into details of the last hours of the victim. Sparks makes an observation about a new medium called television which he is convinced will never take off. Among some of the witty dialog in this brisk screenplay is a conversation between Tracy and Donnelly, commenting on a poor Jewish woman who just called to report her pregnancy. He asks her, "Do you know how many Jews there are in New York?" Without batting an eyelash (but raising her eyebrows in mock disgust), she replies, "Oh, there must be dozens." Sparks, in a nightclub scene, notices a drunk and sarcastically snorts, "He must be doing it for the wife and kidneys." Emma Dunn, as Tracy's doting mother without an ounce of gossip in her, tells perennial dumbbell Allen Jenkins that her husband passed away ten years ago. "Bumped off?", Jenkins asks, and with absolute innocence, Dunn replies, "Yes. Off a ladder."

kidboots Movies don't come much better than this. Photoplay called it a "pippin" and "what talkie movies do best". Reporter George Moxley (Ned Sparks - "I feel like a stranded dogfish on the Barnegat shore" and no, he doesn't say that in this movie) comes back from holidays to find his column replacement Alvin Roberts (Tracy at his smart alecky best) is putting the newspaper back in circulation due to his muck raking column which predicts "blessed events" before they even happen!!! Almost one step ahead of him is his secretary (I just love Ruth Donnelly) whose job is largely taken up with diverting callers who are out for his blood and smoothing over libel suits ("we had two this week")!!! Roberts keeps his column and Moxley is given "Pets" - "if your pooch ever needs a midwife - call on me"!!!Mary Brian, who had the title of the "sweetest girl in pictures" proved that she was as she portrayed Alvin's long suffering girl, Gladys. In real life she was romantically linked with Dick Powell, who made his debut in this movie as the ego driven crooner, Bunny Harmon - similar to his real personality as Brian commented "he liked the ladies"!!Alvin comes unstuck (as Gladys always predicted) when a high profile singer, Dorothy Lane (Isabel Jewel from the original Broadway play) comes to plead with him not to print the story of her upcoming "blessed event" - she is not married but the man is. Alvin promises not to but speedily forgets as his inflated ego dreams of nationwide syndication. Jewel has a couple of big scenes and she plays them for all she is emotionally worth - you won't forget her pleadings. Of course Gladys is disgusted at his callous behaviour and calls their romance off.Allen Jenkins also plays one of the callers with murder on his mind but is persuaded to put his gun away in a stunning scene where Alvin holds centre stage in describing exactly what it is like to go to the electric chair. It sounds off putting but Tracy just dazzles!! Jenkins is a hired goon of sleazy Sam Gobell (Edwin Maxwell) who, as the movie comes to an end, just happens to be revealed as Dorothy's lover. Add to the mix Emma Dunn as Alvin's sweet mother, who loves nothing better than listening to the Bunny Harmon radio hour. Alvin, on the other hand, hates crooners and is over the moon when he can finally expose him as Herman Bunn!!!I can't understand why Isabel Jewel (who in real life was desperately in love with Lee Tracy) never became a star. Maybe she was just too versatile. "Blessed Event" was one of her first films and you just knew, when she entered the newsroom with a gun, there was going to be an intensely dramatic scene. Another memorable part she had was as the frightened "B" girl in "Marked Woman" and again as the almost inarticulate little seamstress riding to the guillotine in "A Tale of Two Cities".

imogensara_smith 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.

houndspirit 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".