This sour ball comedy features the abrasive pairing of two early sound Hollywood figures Lupe Velez and Lee Tracy. It's one scuffed up film.
Bates (Tracy) is a carnival barker pimping the hips of the fiery Teresita (Velez) when she bolts with him for the big time of Broadway along with Achilles (Eugene Palette). Bates in rapid time barges in on a Jed Harris type producer (Frank Morgan) and convinces him to put Teresita in a show who then dazzles. The pair split, they get back together and return to road.
One can understand La Cava's urgency to complete this project having to deal with the mercurial talents of his leads by directing it like one of his silent shorts. Tracy looks and acts like he needs to catch a train and La Cava seems to just give him the green light until he tires. Velez had yet to put spit in fire and her dancing and timing barley flicker. Palette merely croaks.
The Half Naked Truth is a sloppily slapped together piece of brass and crass void of pace and humor. The single redeeming factor of Naked is that I found great enjoyment in two large crowd scenes involving cast members stolen around 42nd Street and Grand Central. They explode with a celebrated naturalness, the film just recites in bad time.
Bates (Tracy) is a carnival barker pimping the hips of the fiery Teresita (Velez) when she bolts with him for the big time of Broadway along with Achilles (Eugene Palette). Bates in rapid time barges in on a Jed Harris type producer (Frank Morgan) and convinces him to put Teresita in a show who then dazzles. The pair split, they get back together and return to road.
One can understand La Cava's urgency to complete this project having to deal with the mercurial talents of his leads by directing it like one of his silent shorts. Tracy looks and acts like he needs to catch a train and La Cava seems to just give him the green light until he tires. Velez had yet to put spit in fire and her dancing and timing barley flicker. Palette merely croaks.
The Half Naked Truth is a sloppily slapped together piece of brass and crass void of pace and humor. The single redeeming factor of Naked is that I found great enjoyment in two large crowd scenes involving cast members stolen around 42nd Street and Grand Central. They explode with a celebrated naturalness, the film just recites in bad time.