Now I'll Tell

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.

Spencer Tracy stars as Murray Golden, a compulsive gambler who is very good at his craft. Virginia (Helen Twelvetrees) is inexplicably in love with him and agrees to marry him. However, most of their marriage, Murray is gambling or running around with his floozy, Peggy (Alice Faye)...yet still Virginia loves him and listens to his many promises he never keeps. At one point, he promises to stop gambling when he makes $200,000...and doesn't. Then, he amasses nearly $650,000 during the 1910s...and yet he doesn't quit. It's obvious Murray is hooked and can't stop and this will end up being the case until he falls flat on his face...which, ultimately, has to happen. You just can't winning or cheating on your wife forever, can you?

There is a major problem with this film that keeps it from being a really good film. Despite good acting (after all, it stars Spencer Tracy), the main character is despicable...no two ways about it. He is an amoral liar...and how can they expect the audience to care about him in the least?! To make things worse, the ending drags on WAY too long.

Regardless of the antecedents of plot to actual persons living or dead, this film exudes power from the performances, especially those of Spencer Tracy and his wife in film, Helen Twelvetrees, the latter rather a forgotten star for a brief period in the early 1930's; the famous Tracy intensity glows off his performance as a incorrigible gambler, whose charge comes from the challenge, not the win, and who neglects his wife in so many ways--among them an almost public fling with Alice Faye; the latter home-town blonde of the late 1930's here as a blowsy, blonde-out-of-a-bottle good time girl who creates a permanent rift in Tracy's marriage. For film fans, there is a delightful cast of vintage character actors, Hobart Cavanaugh being a particular standout, and little Miss Shirley Temple making a brief appearance kissing her Daddy The Honest Judge goodnight. Twelvetrees is handed the heavy melodrama, but handles most of it well, particularly as the plot develops, exuding a sort of Lillian Gish quality of loving forgiveness. Yes, it's pre-code melodrama, and most of the plot can be predicted, but I found the honesty of the performances and the interaction of the characters, mixed with a good deal of local color (street performers, brassy night club singers, boxers on the take) made the film fascinating, if not a classic. One hopes that the Fox archives will get ahold of it and make a decent print--and release it in a box of early Spencer Tracy at Fox films.

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.

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.