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."
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."