The Half-Naked Truth (1932)

Lee Tracy is a name few would remember today. However, for just a few years in the 1930s, he was a hot commodity--playing in some top films for top studios like RKO, Fox, Warner Brothers and MGM. So what happened to him? Well, he had two huge problems--he was typecast as the same sort of fast- talking sharpie (often a reporter or confidence man) AND he was an idiot. I really hate to be so blunt, but his off-camera behaviors severely alienated him and the studios apparently tired of working with him and apologizing for his actions.In "The Half Naked Truth", Tracy plays a very typical sort of role--the fast-talking showman who lies, tells half-truths and promotes his girlfriend, Lupe Valez, from a cheesy carnival sideshow act to the toast of Broadway. However ridiculous this was (as Valez' character had no discernible talent and the charisma of a case of the clap), the film is entertaining on a basic level. Don't think too much and you can enjoy it. So why did I give it only a 6? Well, it broke absolutely no new ground and Tracy's role is almost exactly like 1472343 others I've seen him do. In other words, it's fun but lacked originality to make it worthy of a higher score.

This funny little pre-Code film benefits greatly from the dynamite teaming of Lee Tracy and Lupe Velez. Tracy plays Bates, a carnival barker/con man whose carnival is run out of town for fleecing local residents. He comes up with the bright idea of billing his girlfriend Teresita (Velez) as "Princess Exotica" from Turkey, and heads for Broadway. In New York, Bates fast-talks his way into a contract with the perpetually confused Merle Ferrell (Frank Morgan), then admits that Teresita is not a Turkish princess after all. Teresita electrifies the audience with a rendition of "Hey, Mr. Carpenter", then begins to grow apart from Bates, who is busy blackmailing Ferrell into hiring him for a publicist position. Finally, Bates believes that he has lost Teresita, so he quits his job with Ferrell, returns to the carnival, where Teresita is singing and dancing. The wedding march song ensues, signaling an upcoming Bates/Teresita marriage and the end of the film.This movie is just hilarious, with great singing and dancing from Velez, very funny performances from Tracy and Morgan, and punchy direction by La Cava. The "Hey, Mr. Carpenter" number is terrific, the dialogue surprisingly fresh, and the gags quite good. The scene in which a frantic Morgan finds blackmail photos of himself and Velez all over his office is howlingly funny. The great Max Steiner has a small role as a befuddled orchestra conductor. My only complaint is with the strange subplot about a nudist colony, which seems out of place.Watching this film makes me wonder what might have been. Tracy destroyed his career with an infamous drunken 1934 incident, and sadly Velez committed suicide in 1944. Both should have been major movie stars, but are remembered as footnote Hollywood actors—especially Tracy, who has been all but forgotten. It's a shame, because both Tracy and Velez shine brightly in this excellent, happy film.

This wonderfully ribald pre-code comedy is slightly schizophrenic in style. The first half is a breakneck-paced, rollicking sequence of frantic melees and stinging one-liners, not unlike Lee Tracy's other triumphs of the time, The Front Page and Blessed Event. Once the cast settles in on Broadway, the pace slows and the humour is more characteristic of director LaCava -- absurd situational comedy set up with deliberate pace and milked for effect. Although quite funny in its own right, this section seems to drag in comparison with the opening reels -- it may have worked better in a packed cinema than on the tube. In any case, this is a must-see for fans of pre-code antics -- there's no way it could have been made three years later. Tracy is terrific in his patented role as a fast-talking con artist, and Lupe Velez is a more lurid version of her Mexican Spitfire -- her minimal costumes rival those of a Busby Berkeley chorus girl. Frank Morgan is perfect as a libidinous Ziegfeld type, Franklin Pangborn is everyone's favourite fastidious concierge, and Eugene Pallette is victim to a hilarious running gag about his gender which alone is worth the price of admission -- he also has a unique method for tutoring fledgling Ophelias. There's an intriguing look at the 30s' conception of nudism, to boot.

Lee Tracy, too little known today, is one of the all-time great comic actors and a personal favorite of mine. He was the original Hildy Johnson in The Front Page on Broadway and although his major films are not numerous, each is a delight. Blessed Event with co-star Dick Powell and Bombshell with co-star Jean Harlow are gems long beloved by Thirties film buffs, but even they may not have seen The Half-Naked Truth, which is a pure jolt of the Lee Tracy magic. His physical and vocal presence are uniquely and unmistakably his: the lankily elastic body, the whirling-dervish energy, the sarcastic tone, the long fingers that always seem to be jabbing in someone's direction. There's not another screen actor I can think of who has quite the manic joie de vivre of the young Tracy. In The Half-Naked Truth, he plays a carnival barker and theatrical promoter who will go to any insane lengths to hog headlines (a very contemporary figure for us!). He's paired with Lupe "Mexican Spitfire" Velez, who proves to be an extremely apt partner for him; you believe in these two together, and that makes their final scene surprisingly emotional. (Tracy's magnetism definitely has its romantic aspect; watching Bombshell, an audience can be driven to heights of frustration waiting for Tracy and Harlow to realize that they are, in fact, perfect for one another.) The wonderful ending of The Half-Naked Truth also crystallizes the Tracy credo in a single line: "What good is life if you don't get some fun out of it?" You can have some of that fun by watching this film.