Orson Talks (and talks and talks and talks...)

I recently finished reading My Lunches with Orson, a book of conversations between the great Welles and Henry Jaglom, director of such films as "Queen of the Lot," (which I just added to my Netflix queue as it contains the endlessly adorable Noah Wyle). Welles was fond of recording himself for posterity, because there is a nearly identical book called This Is Orson Welles, which transcribes his conversations with Peter Bogdanovich. And while yes, this does make Welles seem incredibly vain, it's also entertaining as hell, because could that man tell a story! The anecdotes fall into one of three categories:

1. That can't possibly be true.
2. That might be true.
3. If that's not true, it should be.

You'll notice there is no "100% true" category, because I just can't get to that place when Welles is telling stories (especially about John Houseman -- meow!). Not that I am saying he's a big liar, although I think sometimes he was. But I think every story is embellished, whether a lot or a little.

I liked "My Lunches" a little bit more, in part because it takes us up to the very end of Welles' life; his last conversation with Jaglom was just a few days before Welles died. In reading them, I came away feeling like I learned something about Hollywood, a lot about film making, and not very much about Welles himself. Which is I'm sure just how he intended it to be.

My eyes! Oh, it burns!

RKO 281: The Battle Over Citizen Kane

starring Liev Schrieber, John Malkovich, James Cromwell, Melanie Griffith, David Suchet

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but it's close. I went into this movie with a lot of anticipation, being a long-time fan of Welles and Citizen Kane, but my hopes were crushed by the mediocre acting, blatant inaccuracies (yes, I know it's a movie, but a movie about a real situation shouldn't have quite so much make believe) and overdramatics. For instance, that scene where Welles talks Mankiewicz into coming back on Kane by telling that sob story about his father? Feh. Not even close to believable.

Liev Schrieber is, sadly, typecast (at least in my mind) as the might-be-a-killer, Cotton Weary, from the Scream films. I tried not to hold that against him, but his performance as Welles was so unconvincing that it kept coming to mind. Welles was such an unusual and magnetic personality, with his deep, distinctive voice, that it's hard to imagine any actor playing him well. Vincent D'Onofrio gave a better performance in Ed Wood as Welles than Schrieber can manage here. Not to say his acting was bad, mind you, but just that I didn't for a moment have any kind of feeling that it was Orson Welles. The yelling and screaming about how Kane is all he's got seemed so phony. Unfortunately, that was about the most exciting thing about the role.

That is only one of the reasons, however, why it was impossible to enjoy the movie. Melanie Griffith was so bad as Marion Davies, I can hardly put it into words. I'm sure poor Miss Davies is spinning like a top in her grave. John Malkovich gets some good lines as Herman Mankiewicz; he's at his best when trying to talk Welles out of making Kane. James Cromwell does a creditable job as William Randolph Hearst, and the scenes between Hearst and Marion could have been really quite touching if it weren't for Melanie and her enormous hot pink lips. Ech.

For serious Welles fans and film historians, or even those with only a casual interest, you are much better off watching the documentary The Battle Over Citizen Kane than trying to get the "making of Kane" story from this film.

Tries to be avant garde, ends up just pretentious

Rosebud: The Story of Orson Welles, by David Thomson

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

I was so looking forward to reading it, but it turned out to be not at all what I expected. Perhaps I'm too used to a more conventional style of biography, but I found Rosebud hard to get through. As fascinating a person as Orson Welles was, parts of this book were still slow going. The author constantly interrupts the narrative with "dialogues" between himself and...himself? The publisher? An imaginary reader? It's hard to say, and seems to be used mostly to insert his own presence into the biography.

Other unnecessary bits include a whole chapter of this dialogue between the author and his imaginary friend as they watch the first few minutes of Citizen Kane, and another entire chapter about how the author became a fan of Welles. This is supposed to be a biography of Orson Welles, not a book about how David Thomson feels about Orson Welles, and how Thomson has taught Citizen Kane in his class for years, blah blah blah. Every time Welles' own story gets interesting, Thomson pops up to remind you he's there. Ideally, a reader shouldn't be bombarded with the presence of the author in a biography.

There is some interesting information, but the book as a whole is not put together well at all.