#11: Orson Welles

- “A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet.”

Here he is… the three thousand pound gorilla in any list of favorite or best directors. A slight backlash against Mr. Welles has developed from some, due to his constant ranking as the greatest director of all time and the assumption that Citizen Kane must sit atop any ranking of the best films ever made. But if the shoe fits… There is no question that the influence that Welles has had on countless generations of filmmakers to come after him and the technical and structural innovations he used in his work make him a towering figure in the history of cinema. And I admit that the task of placing him in a list like this is difficult after becoming accustomed to seeing Welles unanimously placed at the top of similar projects or pieces about the most important directors of all time.

One thing that I have always pondered is what Welles’ reputation would be like if he had been able to at least moderately adjust to the Hollywood studio system. As everyone knows, the story of Welles post-Kane projects is littered with battles against studio heads and grappling for the final say on editing of his films. The result was that for a bulk of his prime years, Welles was a star without a home. He worked as a freelance director taking the best offers he received. After the war, he directed mostly low budget pictures for studios like Republic and International Pictures. For most of the 1950s he went into self-imposed exile in Europe, picking up money from acting jobs that he used to finance his own directorial projects as best he could. In the 1960s, when he was no longer the boywonder of the entertainment world, he arguably soldiered on to make some of his finest work, even though box office success was a thing of the past. So, the question I often ponder is this: had he been able to fit in better in Hollywood, how would his reputation have been affected? Two interesting options always come to mind. It’s possible that he would have been able to stay in the States for his entire career, resulting in greater exposure for more of his work (outside of Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, the usual suspects) and his status would only increase. On the other hand, I can’t help but thinking that the independent streak that Welles is remembered for can’t hurt in building his legend. There is something admirable about a man who refuses (or at least goes down fighting) to compromise his vision and decides to strike out on his own rather than submit to the whims of executives. I have no answer to this hypothetical, but it’s an interesting “What if?” I’d be interested in hearing the thoughts of others.

Regardless of all of this speculating, the reputation that Welles currently enjoys is justified. He is the greatest actor-director of the sound era, and arguably of all time. I respect his acting ability so much that I’m not sure which of his two talents impresses me more. No actor was better at launching into on-screen monologues like Welles. As a director, I have always admired his choice of material, involving very in-depth character studies. His constant experimenting with abstract visual styles and techniques is probably his greatest contribution. Pulling away all of the acclaim and hyperbole that has accumulated over the years reveals a director who is every bit as good as advertised. There is a reason that the praise has piled up for decades – Welles was simply a great and visionary filmmaker.

1. Citizen Kane (1941)
2. Touch of Evil (1958)
3. Chimes at Midnight (1965)
4. Othello (1952)
5. Mr. Arkadin (1955)
6. The Lady from Shanghai (1947)
7. The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)
8. The Stranger (1946)
9. The Trial (1962)
10. Macbeth (1948)
11. F for Fake (1973)

#11: The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949)

Released: September 2, 1949 (UK)

Director: Carol Reed; Screenplay: Graham Greene based on his own novel; Cinematography: Robert Krasker; Music: Anton Karas; Producer: Carol Reed; Studio: British Lion Films

Cast: Joseph Cotten (Holly Martins), Alida Valli (Anna Schmidt), Orson Welles (Harry Lime), Trevor Howard (Major Calloway), Bernard Lee (Sgt. Paine), Wilfrid Hyde-White (Crabbin), Erich Ponto (Dr. Winkel), Ernst Deutsch (Baron Kurtz), Siegfried Breuer (Popescu), Paul Horbiger (Karl)

- “In Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed. But they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock…”

The superlatives that have been heaped upon this film are impressive. Most agree that The Third Man is the finest British noir ever made (some proponents of Night and the City might slightly disagree). Some feel that accolade does not do justice to the greatness of this film – they say that it is the finest movie ever made in the UK. A few admirers will even go so far as to argue that this effort from Carol Reed is the best movie that has ever been made, in any nation, regardless of genre or classification. While I won’t go so far as to back up that final assertion, I can’t dispute the first two. It _is_ the finest of all British noirs. And it is _is_ the best film to be made in the UK that I have seen (although I do love Reed's The Fallen Idol as well, but no longer consider it The Third Man's equal). It is a complete master class in filmmaking, possessing all of the ingredients necessary for a great film. An enigmatic story and screenplay from the great Graham Greene provides the template for the talent. The acting is on-point throughout. The direction of Sir Carol Reed is damn near perfect. And the visuals and atmospherics that Reed worked to create with Robert Krasker are now legendary in the history of cinema.


The story is likely one that everyone is familiar with. Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) is an American writer of pulp western novels who travels to postwar Vienna at the behest of his friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles). When he gets to Vienna, Holly is stunned to learn that Harry has recently died. While attending his friend’s funeral, Holly bumps into Major Calloway (Trevor Howard), who warns Holly to leave Vienna and forget his old pal. Now even more intrigued, Holly decides to delve into the circumstances of Harry’s death and try to uncover what actually happened. The official story was that Harry was accidentally struck by a fast-moving automobile, but Holly is suspicious. Getting close to Anna Schmidt (Alida Valli), Harry’s former girlfriend, Holly is introduced to the cast of characters that last saw Harry before his death. The deeper his investigation goes, the more convinced Holly becomes that there was another witness – a “third man” – that has not come forward and might know more about the “accident” that killed Harry. At the same time, Major Calloway begins to give Holly clues about the type of person that Harry became, continually encouraging Holly to forget about him and leave Vienna. Holly soldiers on in his quest to vindicate his friend, but in the process uncovers something even more horrifying.

Greene’s story really is a treasure, as the majority of the film centers on an intriguing mystery, while eventually making that same mystery almost secondary. As the movie progresses, solving the mystery becomes less important than examining the bonds of friendship. How strong are such bonds? When do moral obligations trump a lifelong friendship? Holly wants desperately to believe that Harry is the same old pal that he has always known. As more facts concerning Harry’s activities are revealed to him, Holly still cannot accept the fact that his friend has turned into a human piranha. Holly feels that he has to vindicate his friend. When he finally comes face-to-face with Harry and tries to get answers, the friendship is strained to the limit.


This is another instance where rumors have continually swirled about Orson Welles actually having a role in directing. Certainly there are visual flourishes that one could picture Welles pulling off. But from everything that I have read, with both Welles and Carol Reed speaking on the topic, he definitely did not direct any part of the film. Welles only became attached to the project as an actor because he was strapped for cash in trying to make his own film. Which means that Carol Reed and Robert Krasker deserve all the praise in the world for the visual style of this film. It is an absolute landmark in cinematography and camera work. The surreal, slanted camera angles are the perfect counterpoint to the distorted, crooked machinations of the lead characters. The photography, with the starkest differences in lights and darks that one will see in noir, is as impressive as any film that will be included in this countdown. The scenes of the famed sewer chase are iconic – even people who are not familiar with The Third Man are likely to recognize the individual frames taken from that sequence.

But it is not just the visuals. The actors involved shine as well. Although he is on-screen for less than half of the film, the shadow of Welles’ Harry Lime hangs over everything, both literally and figuratively. The revelation of Harry standing in the darkened doorway, a sly grin across his face, is one of the great introductions of all time. Welles makes his limited time count, creating such a charmingly diabolical personality for Harry that the viewer almost hates the fact that they have to dislike him. The monologue at the beginning of this write-up was not actually in Greene’s screenplay and was famously added by Welles himself during filming. Regardless of its historical veracity or lack thereof (evidently Switzerland actually _was_ a military power at one point? Who knew…), it is a brilliant bit of writing and is delivered flawlessly by Welles. In another great historical irony, Welles was offered the option to take a salary for his work or be paid in a share of the movie’s profits. Needing the money, he chose the former. The movie then of course went on to be a huge success, costing Welles untold amounts of money. Such was his luck when it came to movies and finances. One also cannot overlook the contributions of Welles’ longtime collaborator Joseph Cotten, who played the sophisticated everyman as well anyone (Jimmy Stewart included). The assorted cast of Harry’s associates also turns in impressive work, as does the great Trevor Howard.


I’ll bring this one to a close now, just so it doesn’t look like I’m giving this movie more coverage than other entries – this is already one of the longer essays penned for the countdown. And yet, I still didn’t get to all of the key attributes of this great film – how can one overlook the unforgettable zither score from Anton Karas? It is just another wonderful element in the overall experience. This is cinema at its best.

#18: Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958)

Released: May 21, 1958

Director: Orson Welles; Screenplay: Orson Welles based on the novel “Badge of Evil” by Whit Masterson; Cinematography: Russell Metty; Music: Henry Mancini; Producer: Albert Zugsmith; Studio: Universal International

Cast: Charlton Heston (Ramon Miguel Vargas), Janet Leigh (Susan Vargas), Orson Welles (Hank Quinlan), Joseph Calleia (Pete Menzies), Akim Tamiroff (Uncle Joe Grande), Joanna Cook Moore (Marcia Linnekar), Ray Collins (District Attorney Adair), Dennis Weaver (Night Manager), Val de Vargas (Pancho), Mort Mills (Al Schwartz), Victor Millan (Manolo Sanchez), Lalo Rios (Risto), Phil Harvey (Blaine), Joi Lansing (Blonde), Harry Shannon (Gould), Rusty Wescoatt (Casey), Zsa Zsa Gabor (Strip Club Owner), Marlene Dietrich (Tanya), Joseph Cotten (Detective)

Let’s get the bad out of the way right up front – I still cannot believe that Universal decided to cast Charlton Heston in the role of a Mexican detective. It makes no sense to me and seems like a completely unnecessary distraction. Now, with that being said, there was a time, very early in my noir obsession, where Touch of Evil would have contended for the top spot in a list of this sort. After watching it for the first time I came away convinced that not only was this one of the handful of best noirs of all time, but that it was undoubtedly the best film that Orson Welles ever made, above even the more critically-acclaimed Citizen Kane. This initial reaction, at least in terms of placement in Welles’ overall body of work, was probably more a result of responding better to crime thrillers like this than the straight drama of Kane. I’ve since amended my view somewhat – I now conform to the general opinion that Kaneis not only his greatest film, but his best – but in terms of noir rankings, my initial assessment wasn’t far off. It is lower on the list than it once was, but this is due to becoming familiar with other great noirs, not losing my love for Touch of Evil.

The story jumps all over the place, and if it is not as compelling as the actual moviemaking, it is at least entertaining. When an American millionaire is blown up crossing the border back into the United States from Mexico, an immediate full-scale investigation is launched. The American authorities, led by the legendary Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles), are in charge of the investigation, but since the bomb was planted in the car on Mexican soil he is forced to work with Mexican detective Mike Vargas (Charlton Heston). What would normally be routine inter-agency cooperation is complicated due to Quinlan’s unmitigated bigotry, as he detests all things Mexican. Vargas’ concentration is tested by the fact that members of the infamous Grande family, whom he is prosecuting on drug charges, are harassing his wife (Janet Leigh) in hopes of intimidating Vargas to drop the case. Vargas is forced to try and protect his wife from the Grandes on one hand, while at the same time try and keep Quinlan from framing innocent citizens in the bombing case.


Touch of Evil was Welles’ first return to Hollywood filmmaking in a decade, after having spent that time working in Europe. The circumstances concerning how he came to be hired to direct the film have never been completely clarified, but legend has it that he was originally hired just to play the role of Hank Quinlan. Universal had already zeroed in on Charlton Heston to play the lead (again, for some completely unfathomable reason), but he was wary of committing to a project without knowing who would be directing. When he learned that Welles had been hired as an actor, Heston told Universal that he would sign on if they also allowed Orson to direct. Universal complied, agreeing to allow Welles to rework the script and then lead the project. The irony of it all is that Welles returned to Hollywood and ran into the same problems that he experienced during his initial run in Tinseltown. After wrapping production, Welles delivered a cut to Universal that he felt was strong enough to resurrect his career in the States. As happened with almost every film he ever made, though, the studio disagreed. Universal decided – supposedly without the knowledge of Welles himself – to reedit and re-shoot parts of the film, trimming it to just over 90 minutes. When Welles saw the hacked Universal product he was distraught, firing off a 58-page memo to the studio heads in which he outlined the changes he thought needed to be made to the film. Universal ignored nearly all of the suggestions, released the movie in its bastardized form, and it promptly floundered. Thankfully, that memo and a longer cut were rediscovered decades later and were used to produce the “restored version” that is now accepted as the closest to Welles’ vision.

Would it have been too cliché to have begun this review talking about the famed three-minute tracking shot that opens the film? I thought so, so I purposely waiting until now. There is no denying its brilliance. What strikes me about it is the impeccable decision making by Welles and cinematographer Russell Metty. We see the bomb loaded into the trunk of the car and then see it pull out and begin driving toward the border. But the camera does not simply trail the car, watching it the whole way. Welles lets it move like normal, slowing down and speeding up as it moves through traffic. At times, the car goes completely off-screen, as the camera focuses on the Vargas couple walking in the same direction. The car is then picked up and lost a few more times along the way, but it can be identified when it comes into view thanks to the distinctive music coming from the radio. The whole thing is pulled off in such a carefree manner. It is the crowning achievement of an all-around technical masterpiece. Welles and Metty are brilliant throughout, throwing dark (and I mean dark) shadows over everything. They even venture into psychedelic territory with hallucinatory sequences involving Vargas’ wife and the Grandes.


It also features what I view as Welles’ best acting performance. His Hank Quinlan is unforgettable, as is this butchered maseterwork that has thankfully been restored (at least as near as possible) to the original vision of a genius.

#51: The Lady from Shanghai (Orson Welles, 1947)

Released: December 24, 1947

Director: Orson Welles; Screenplay: Orson Welles based on the novel “If I Die Before I Wake” by Sherwood King; Cinematography: Charles Lawton, Jr.; Music: Heinz Roemheld; Producer: Orson Welles; Studio: Columbia Pictures

Cast: Rita Hayworth (Rita “Rosalie” Bannister), Orson Welles (Michael O’Hara), Everett Sloane (Arthur Bannister), Glenn Anders (George Grisby), Ted de Corsia (Sidney Broome), Erskine Sanford (Judge), Gus Schilling (“Goldie” Goldfish), Carl Frank (District Attorney Galloway), Louis Merrill (Jake), Evelyn Ellis (Bessie), Harry Shannon (Cab Driver)

- “Killing you, is killing myself. But, you know, I'm pretty tired of both of us...”

This placement is a real compromise, and is the result of my inability to take a definitive stand on my opinion of this film. After watching The Lady from Shanghai for the third time in preparation for the countdown, I still can’t completely decide what to make of it. I haven’t worked out whether it is a genuinely great movie, regardless of genre classification, or if it is just a passable film noir. I’m to the point now where I think that it is actually both – the high points are as impressive as anything else included in this series, while the lows reach depths that are quite low. I’ve gone round and round on this one – sometimes I feel like putting it somewhere near #30, at others #70. So I just split the difference and it lands here at #51. I’m sure that once this review is up and posted, I’ll regret it and wish that I had moved it even higher, but such is the peril of list-making…

The story behind The Lady from Shanghai is another slice of Hollywood folklore that I find so fascinating. According to the legend, Orson Welles was scrambling to come up with the necessary funds to complete his pet project of a stage adaptation of Around the World in 80 Days. The story goes that while begging Columbia head Harry Cohn for the money for his own production, he promised to deliver a major film to Columbia in return for the financial help. Welles was evidently bluffing, so when Cohn immediately asked what he had in mind, Orson turned to a copy of Sherwood King’s novel that was sitting nearby. Without the slightest inkling of how it would come off, and in fact not having read it himself, Welles began singing the praises of the novel and assuring Cohn that it would make a great film. Cohn agreed, forwarded the money, and when Welles’ play flopped soon after, he was then left to deliver the promised movie. Is there any truth in this apocryphal tale? Who knows, but it’s wonderful mythology.


If a convoluted story was the sole hallmark of a great noir, then The Lady from Shanghai would be a lock for top-rank status. Welles plays Michael O’Hara, an Irish rogue who rescues the gorgeous Elsa Bannister (Rita Hayworth) from a mugging in Central Park. The two flirt a bit afterward, which to Michael is innocent enough. But a few days later he is hired by high-powered defense attorney Arthur Bannister (Everett Sloane) to work as a crewman on his yacht as they sail south. Bannister is the husband of the woman he saved in the park. Michael reluctantly accepts the assignment and on the cruise he is drawn into the intrigue that swirls around everything the Bannisters are a part of. Along the way he also meets Bannister’s business partner George Grisby (Glenn Anders), another shady character. At every turn it seems as if Michael is being offered a role in some kind of plotting or counter-plotting centering on the disabled Arthur. He initially rebuffs these offers – even from the enchanting Elsa – but eventually is swept up into a complicated plot that would take far more space to unravel in print.

Certain set pieces are so good, though, that the plot becomes inconsequential. Either you can embrace the bizarre nature of it all or you’re not likely to enjoy the film one bit. The story is strange, the visuals have a surreal, trippy quality to them, and everything seems off-kilter. Welles is talented enough as a director to make it all work. His usual inventive camera work and use of angles only adds to the bizarreness. Things like extreme close-ups – I’m thinking of the one of Grisby when he proposes the murder plot to Michael – only add to the peculiar nature of the story and its characters. And his filming of the cruise and cabana sequence is also outstanding. Rita Hayworth is also amazing as the alluring Mrs. Bannister.


The famed house of mirrors sequence is rightly celebrated, but there are other memorable scenes that I consider just as impressive. The tension that is built when Grisby is courting Michael for his plot is very well done. As is the aforementioned “tiki-bar” scene when Michael happens upon Arthur, Elsa and George lounging in cabana chairs. It is then that Michael delivers one of the great monologues of any Welles film, with the famous “Then the sharks took to eating themselves” line that foreshadows how much of the story will play out.

Even with all of these high points, it’s still hard for me to decide what to make of it all. It’s far from seamless in its narrative and some have accused the story to be labyrinthine to a fault. There are certainly sections of the film that I think are downright bad – the courtroom scene near the end is horrendous – and agree that it could have been smoothed a bit. But perhaps that’s part of the charm and goes along with the bizarre nature of the entire production. Again, I’m still trying to come to terms with it all and I've watched it numerous times!

#85: Journey Into Fear (Norman Foster, 1943)

Released: February 12, 1943

Director: Norman Foster; Screenplay: Joseph Cotten, Richard Collins (uncredited), Ben Hecht (uncredited) and Orson Welles (uncredited) based on the novel by Eric Ambler; Cinematography: Karl Struss; Music: Roy Webb; Producer: Orson Welles; Studio: RKO

Cast: Joseph Cotten (Howard Graham), Dolores del Rio (Josette Martel), Ruth Warrick (Stephanie Graham), Agnes Moorehead (Mrs. Mathews), Jack Durant (Gogo Martel), Everett Sloane (Kopeikin), Eustace Wyatt (Professor Haller), Frank Readick (Matthews), Edgar Barrier (Kuvetli), Jack Moss (Peter Banat), Stefan Schnabel (Purser), Hans Conreid (Oo Lang Sang), Robert Meltzer (Steward), Richard Bennett (Ship Captain), Orson Welles (Colonel Haki)

More controversy over the credits to a film noir! Much like the previously-reviewed He Walked By Night, Journey Into Fear has long been the subject of discussion concerning who should truly receive credit for directing. It remains officially credited to veteran Norman Foster, a somewhat forgotten figure that I personally find to be an outstanding director. But the shadow of Orson Welles looms large in the entire production – he appears to have been involved at every stage. He worked with Joseph Cotten to develop the adaptation of Eric Ambler’s novel. His Mercury company produced the film. He contributed his services as an actor. And, for many years, it has been assumed that he, and not Norman Foster, was the one directing.

The most obvious reason for why such rumors have persisted for well over sixty years is that it has the look and feel of an Orson Welles film. According to the textbook definition, it is only marginally a film noir. Rather than the traditional urban, inner city setting of most noirs, Journey Into Fear instead takes place abroad during the height of World War II. Howard Graham (Joseph Cotten) is an engineer for the United States Navy who is traveling with his wife (Ruth Warrick) and returning from a conference in Istanbul. Fellow employees persuade Graham to spend a night with them at a local nightclub, and in the process Graham’s eye is caught by dancer Josette Martel (Dolores del Rio). When an attempt on Graham’s life fails, he is ushered out of the club and into the hands of Turkish authorities. Realizing that Graham possesses information that can assist the Turkish anti-Nazi war effort, Col. Haki (Orson Welles) warns the American to get out of the country. He offers to protect him, putting him aboard a steamship with a number of shady characters.


A lot of the visuals look like pure Orson Welles. There are his typically unique camera angles, showing his ability to heighten the impact or tension of a scene by something as simple as camera placement. Knowing the work that Welles would go on to direct in the years to come, the style of this film is in the same vein as later works like The Lady From Shanghai. Welles himself would add to the controversy over who was the true director. In his book with Peter Bogdanovich,This is Orson Welles, Welles seemed to make it clear that he was only an actor and that Foster was in sole control as director. This would appear to end any possible interpretation, but doubts still linger. In the past, Welles had also remarked that production was so hectic that who directed each scene was determined simply by whoever was closest to the camera. My guess is this second explanation is nearest the truth. I don’t think that Norman Foster was incapable of doing work like this on his own – as I said, I think that he was a fine director in his own right, particularly of noirs and he will appear more later in this countdown. But so much of the film bears the hallmark of Welles, that it is hard to believe that he was not involved in the direction.

Journey Into Fear also bears the unfortunate trait of an Orson Welles film of being completely butchered by studio heads. The original running time came in at right around 90 minutes, but the brass at RKO chopped it down to 69 minutes. Some scenes were deemed too sexual in nature, in addition to censors taking offense to what they perceived as far too political for release. Restoration efforts in later years would restore a fraction of the lost footage, but one still wonders what the hour and a half version would have been like. And I still personally marvel at how anything with Welles attached to it was eventually mangled by studio brass.


This is not a conventional film noir. For whatever reason, the story never feels anywhere near as dark as the visuals would lead you to believe it should be. There is a foreboding atmosphere on the boat, but it’s not quite as sinister as the experience of some other, darker noirs. Part of this can be attributed to the carefree nature of Joseph Cotten’s narration. But the main reason is just the quirkiness of everything. This is a genuinely bizarre film, and one that will alienate many viewers and have them scratching their heads as to why it made this countdown. At its core, it might be nothing but a simple, entertaining spy thriller. If you can embrace the offbeat, experimental nature of it all, it can be quite a fun ride.

#92: The Stranger (Orson Welles, 1946)

Released: May 25, 1946

Director: Orson Welles; Screenplay: Anthony Veiller (screenplay), Victor Trivas (story and adaptation), Decla Dunning (adaptation), John Huston (uncredited) and Orson Welles (uncredited); Cinematography: Russell Metty; Music: Brownislaw Kaper; Producer: Sam Spiegel; Studio: International Pictures/RKO

Cast: Orson Welles (Franz Kindler/Professor Charles Rankin), Edward G. Robinson (Mr. Wilson), Loretta Young (Mary Longstreet Rankin), Philip Merivale (Judge Adam Longstreet), Richard Long (Noah Longstreet), Konstantin Shayne (Konrad Meinike), Byron Keith (Dr. Jeffrey Lawrence), Billy House (Mr. Potter), Martha Wentworth (Sara)

As amazing as it is to consider, at the time that Orson Welles made The Stranger in 1946, he was viewed as something of a financial black hole. Viewing it from the 21st century, it’s easy to just look at the fact that at this point in his career he had already directed two of the most celebrated films in the history of American cinema – Citizen Kane in 1941 and The Magnificent Ambersons just a year later. Although critical successes (which in fact have done nothing but increase in stature over time) neither of them were particularly successful at the box office. Naysayers argue that he was thus forced into making a film like The Stranger, with the explicit goal of producing a picture that would turn a profit. While that may certainly be the case, that shouldn’t be viewed as too great a knock. It still has one of the greatest directors of all time both behind and in front of the camera, teaming up with the peerless Edward G. Robinson. It might not be Welles at his best, but few films from any director stand up against the onetime boy wonder at his peak.


The story is intriguing, if lacking a bit in believability. Nazi hunter Mr. Wilson (Edward G. Robinson) is an investigator for the United Nations who is on the trail of fugitive war criminal Franz Kindler. Kindler managed to escape Germany at the end of the war and has effectively taken on the new identity of Charles Rankin (Orson Welles) in the United States, taking a job as a professor and marrying Mary Longstreet (Loretta Young). Determined to locate Kindler, Wilson has the ingenious idea of releasing one of his former compatriots and then following him to his prey. When the man he is following turns up dead before he can identify the true Kindler, Wilson realizes that more detective work will be necessary to unearth the fugitive. Many tension-filled sequences ensue, which I’ll leave unsaid for those that haven’t seen it.

The lead performances are as good as one would expect from titans like Robinson and Welles. I know that there are many people that are not fans of Welles the actor, but I most certainly _am_. I thought he was outstanding in Kane, is outstanding here, and would go on to top them all as Hank Quinlan in Touch of Evil. Certainly, his role here as Professor Rankin is the least of those three, but it is a satisfying performance. Rankin is not the towering magnetic presence of Charles Foster Kane or the memorable curmudgeon that is Quinlan. Here, Welles has to use facial expressions, tone of voice, and other clever tricks to establish Rankin as the devious war criminal Wilson suspects him to be. As for Edward G. Robinson as Mr. Wilson… well, Robinson is all over this countdown, so his credentials are well established. I will say, though, that few can play the cunning investigator as well as Robinson.


The believability factor comes into play with the complete naïveté of Rankin’s wife Mary (Loretta Young). Perhaps such a literal reading of the character is beside the point, as I have seen it hypothesized that the character was simply meant to symbolize the dangers that can creep even into small town America. Either way, the character was not the equal of Welles’ and Robinson’s roles.

Throughout it all, though, anyone watching knows that they are watching an Orson Welles film. The minor visual flourishes and shots are familiar to anyone who is a fan. The knock that this is Welles at his most conventional is reasonable, but regardless it is still Orson Welles. That’s enough.

1941: Citizen Kane (Orson Welles)

Released: May 1, 1941

Director: Orson Welles; Screenplay: Herman J. Mankiewicz and Orson Welles; Cinematography: Gregg Toland; Studio: RKO Pictures; Producer: Orson Welles

Cast: Orson Welles (Charles Foster Kane), Joseph Cotton (Jedediah Leland), Everett Sloane (Mr. Bernstein), William Alland (Jerry Thompson), Georgia Backus (Bertha Anderson), Fortunio Bonanova (Signor Matiste), Sonny Bupp (Charles Foster Kane III), Ray Collins (Jim W. Gettys), Dorothy Comingore (Susan Alexander Kane), George Coulouris (Walter Parks Thatcher), Agnes Moorehead (Mary Kane), Erskine Sanford (Herbert Carter)

What can I possibly write about Citizen Kane that has not already been repeated ad nauseum for the last sixty plus years? It surely must be the most analyzed and interpreted film in the history of cinema – from the script, to the acting, to the photography, to the editing. Everything, scrutinized to the smallest detail. In fact, the monumental reputation that the film has acquired sometimes even turns off many film fans, creating something of a backlash against a film that is _continually_ chosen as the greatest film ever made. I can still remember watching it for the first time, wondering if this movie could possibly be as good as my other favorite “classic” films – movies like Casablanca and On the Waterfront, which were among the first that I dared to watch. Everyone told me that it was a highly influential film, but that it was not nearly as enjoyable a viewing experience as other classics. Some even referred it as boring.

Yet as I watched it for the first time, I was completely enthralled. And it had nothing to do with the technical innovations or the revolutionary photography. It was just the story. It was witnessing the rise and fall of Charles Foster Kane, a publishing tycoon who soon lusts for something greater than increasing circulation. It may not have instantly become my all-time favorite movie, but I could understand why it was lauded by so many others.


This is the thing that has always amazed me about the status of Citizen Kane. Whenever the film is discussed, the many innovation that were pioneered or came into prominence with this film are immediately cited as the reason the film is so cherished. To be sure, technical wizardry abounds. Exactly who is to be credited for the amazing photography is debated to this day, but suffice it to say that cinematographer Gregg Toland deserves at least as much praise as Orson Welles. Toland is generally credited with the extensive use of deep focus that is used throughout the film. The storytelling is novel, as Welles is able to create unique ways to compress large chunks of time into a matter of moments. In one section of the film, the span of a single sentence fast forwards the story decades without making the audience feel they have missed a beat. Using flashbacks to recount the life of Kane, Welles is able to do so as effectively as I have ever seen the storytelling device utilized.


But as cutting edge as the filmmaking is, and as much as it would influence later generations of directors, I have always thought that concentrating solely upon the technical chops of the film overlooks what a great story it is. It is thoroughly entertaining. Watching the rise of Charles Kane, making his mark on the world during a fascinating time in American history is captivating. For me, I think that this immediate connection is a direct result of the greatness of Welles the actor, not necessarily the director. His portrayal of Kane always contains a hint of uncertainty. Here is a man that is obviously ambitious, with a drive to achieve great things, and yet as he continually does so he becomes uninterested and must move on to something else. What is his endgame? What is it that he is so ruthlessly motivated to accomplish? I don’t know the answer to these questions, and Welles is able to convey the fact that Kane himself doesn’t seem to know either.

It’s the fascination with Welles’ performance and the Kane character that made it impossible for me to pick against Citizen Kane. There were other great films that made the decision tough – getting reacquainted with the spectacular pair of films that Preston Sturges released this year made it hard to fathom not picking at least one of them for this countdown. The cast of Bogart, Astor, Lorre, and Greenstreet makes The Maltese Falcon an amusing adventure every time that I watch it. But re-watching Citizen Kane reminded me what an all-around virtuoso performance this film was for boy wonder Orson Welles. To think that at age 25 he wrote, directed, produced and starred in this movie – which just so happened to be his debut film – is still mind-boggling.


I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention some of the superb supporting performances. Joseph Cotton is another actor that no matter what the strength of the material always turns in a convincing and engaging performance. He is great as Kane’s longtime friend and sidekick Jedediah, be it in the flashbacks as a young man or under heavy makeup playing the aging Mr. Leland. Everett Sloane is endearing as Mr. Bernstein, the always-loyal assistant to Mr. Kane. He sticks with Kane through it all, as difficult as that often is with the turbulent disposition of the publisher.

As hard as it is to do, approaching Citizen Kane as just another movie, to be appreciated solely on its own merit, only reinforces what a terrific film it is. There is a reason that this is now a cliché selection among greatest films lists and all-time favorites – it’s simply that good.

Rating: 9/10 (again, just based on personal enjoyment… it’s fairly obvious what a “greatness” rating would be)

Other Contenders for 1941: The incredible year that Preston Sturges had in 1941 is truly astounding. I can think of few instances of a director releasing two films on the level of The Lady Eve and Sullivan’s Travels in the same calendar year. Sturges is another director that just puts a smile on my face from the beginning to the end of his films. If forced to choose between the two films, I would say that I slightly favor The Lady Eve – I just love Barbara Stanwyck’s performance. The scene where she and her father are doing card mechanic moves back and forth in the game with Henry Fonda is brilliant. But ask me the same question again in a few hours and I might then prefer Sullivan’s Travels!

Being a film noir fanatic, I always enjoy watching John Huston’s The Maltese Falcon. That trio of Bogart, Lorre and Greenstreet never disappoints. High Sierra, directed by Raoul Walsh, reinforces the fact that Walsh was among the masters directing gangster and action films. John Ford’s How Green Was My Valley took home Best Picture honors this year and I think that it is a fine film, if not as enjoyable as others I have mentioned.