Cidadão Kane

The most frequently acclaimed "greatest film ever," idiosyncratic in its day yet massively influential, a cultural staple, a narrative and technical tour de force, and there's the whole thing of the wunderkind granted carte blanche for his debut to the machinery of classical Hollywood at its peak--the expectations for "Citizen Kane," to say the least, are high. Indeed, it's a marvel of cinematography and plot. In both senses, there's a deep focus from various angles. The plot is a jigsaw puzzle of flashbacks from multiple sources--the "News on the March" film-within-the-film, the dead man's memoir, a reporter interviewing characters for the meaning of "Rosebud"--linked by an also-layered sound design and framed by a curious camera violating the "No Trespassing" sign in entering and exiting the Xanadu estate. Moreover, the story is about a powerful storyteller notoriously based on William Randolph Hearst (and other famous rich guys, if not also a bit of Orson Welles)--a newspaper man, populist politician, overseer of his lover's career, and who even dictates the story beyond his grave with his final word. The picture constantly exploits a deep depth of field, with figures in the foreground and background in focus, to show it off. Much of this was accomplished by composite photographic effects. While "Kane" is famous as an arty old black-and-white film, which it is, it belies that it was genre-mixing popular entertainment and a special-effects extravaganza of its day: the virtuosity of the editing and sound design in addition to the matte paintings, miniatures, multiple-exposure photography, rear projection, and the most significant use of the optical printer in between "King Kong" (1933) and "Star Wars" (1977). The difference is that the effects here are realistic as opposed to fantastic.

Outside of co-writer Herman Mankiewicz, cinematographer Gregg Toland and Welles, arguably the most important contributions to the production came from Linwood Dunn and his optical printer, and that's not even to mention a score by Bernard Herrmann, editing from Robert Wise, and contributions from a host of less well-known technicians doing career-best work, including lead matte painter Mario Larrinaga, the special-effects team's boss Vernon Walker, and art director Perry Ferguson. More than half the picture has been guessed to be effects shots. According to Dunn, "Once Orson Welles learned about the optical printer he just went hog-wild with it."

From the start, there's a miniature for the gate with the matte paintings of Xanadu in the background, and dissolves--lots of long dissolves in this one (and wipes and a few more dazzling effects)--transition between ever-closer views of the lit window, always matching the same frame position, until a reverse angle shot inside followed by an extreme close-up of Kane's lips, with the added snow effects, as he mutters the dying word. The reflection of the nurse in the broken snow globe was created with Dunn's printer. There are many such marvelous compositions throughout. In the "News on the March" reel, a terrific film-within-film newsreel parody overall (including intentional scratches and, reportedly, edited by RKO's newsreel department, to make it look authentic), a shot of construction of Xanadu is cobbled together from an actor in the foreground, stop-motion trucks in the middle plane, and the matte painting of the mansion atop the hill. There's also the pre-"Forrest Gump" (1994), pre-"Zelig" (1983) insertion of Kane into archival footage. Other treated shots include the camera moving through the window of the El Rancho nightclub for Susan Alexander Kane's scenes, the downward tilting shot from the miniature statue of the Thatcher library, the tilt upwards to the rafters of the workers reacting to Susan's singing, and rear projection and multiple-exposure compositions being employed where the deep, or pan, focus was otherwise impractical, such as when there were figures extremely close to the camera and in the extreme background with another plane for the middle action--the shot of young Kane through the window playing in the snow, the three-tier composite of Boss Getty observing Kane's campaign rally, Leland's firing, Susan's suicide attempt, the shot with the parrot, e.g. Of course, these effects were in service to what was already a uniquely-photographed picture.

With good reason, Welles shared the final screen credit with his cinematographer. According to Toland, the demands of deep focus and stagings and camera angles that included ceilings necessitated some unusual lighting setups, and the film has also been credited for the first extensive use of coated lenses and a new film stock. Kane walking back to the windows before sitting down in one scene is a standout that plays with perspective while also underscoring Kane's metaphorical position in the world (i.e. he feels small or distant and is literally so in the image). Similar setups are repeated for when Charles walks up to Susan practicing or in their distant exchanges of reverberating dialogue in the large mansion as she puts puzzles together. Shadows act the same way, such as when she's figuratively and literally in his shadow when he insists she continue her career. The effect is a staggeringly unique picture--not only in a showy manner, although there's an undeniable bravado to it all, but also in a way to explore figures in space in the same way as the narrative investigates characters and their perspectives.

The long takes in deep focus to keep all the figures staged in depth in sharp relief--pan focus--as assisted by the optical printer when wide-angle lenses weren't enough, in addition to the unusual angles--especially the low ones featuring ceilings--function to visually depict a plot that is also all about focusing on every character and from every angle, while much still remains in the dark. The visuals are as ambiguous and complex as the narrative: multiple perspectives, with some scenes repeated but appearing differently depending on the narrator, pan focus with figures often obscured, or just turned into silhouettes, by the harsh shadows of the chiaroscuro lighting. We never quite get a good view of the reporter Thompson, e.g., his back usually to the camera and his face in shadows when not, such as in the screening-room scene, which is apt given that he's our surrogate, the unseen spectator within the film. He even wears glasses; he sees through lenses, as we do through the camera. And, in this case, that camera is even more curious than and as much a character as Thompson and isn't slowed down by closed doors or windows and goes through a desk during one point at Kane's childhood home.

Besides Toland, Welles shared credit with co-writer Mankiewicz. The non-linear, kaleidoscopic, sometimes restricted narration and sometimes not, flashback-structured plot, with events repeated from different points of view, including a newsreel overview that mirrors the film proper, remains one of the most wonderfully convoluted film narratives. One may get overly caught up in the story and characters, but as with the imagery, it's the structure of the thing that's brilliant. The Rosebud mystery is merely a device to drive the plot. Kane isn't a character trapped in a snow globe by a single word. Everything here is multifaceted. "You're talking to two people," as he says at one point. He has two wives, two friends, two sleds, scenes are doubled and framed and reflected in visual motifs--glass, windows, doorways and mirrors. Near the end, we get the iconic hall-of-mirrors shot: the film in a nutshell.

Rosebud is also part of but one or two genres in "Kane." It's a detective mystery, but as investigated by wisecracking newsreel reporters, like those who work at Kane's newspaper, it's an entry in the journalism films of the era--"His Girl Friday" (1940) meets noir. It's a fictional biopic, as well as part musical (Susan's opera, the dance number at the newspaper's party), political thriller, Shakespearean tragedy and lighthearted comedy. Welles and the rest of the Mercury Players' background in radio was surely instructive, as it's the sound design that underscores these tonal shifts, equal measure playful and ominous and continually serving as transitions between scenes. The score fits seamlessly, and the editing is often inspired (e.g. the table sequence for the first marriage, or some nice match cuts throughout, as well as managing the mixture of long takes and quick montages), but there's also techniques such as overlapping dialogue and sound bridges used extensively and informed by radio practices. The shocks cuts where shot transitions are accompanied by sudden changes in sound and score may be the best, and there's a visual equivalent with the reveal of background by the sudden removal of foreground objects, such as with the newspaper in Welles' first scene.

Welles and company were already famous for the "The War of the Worlds" radio drama, as well as theatrical productions, so it's no wonder the makeup-enhanced acting from actors new to film was already better than the acting in most films. Like "The War of the Worlds," made infamous as a catalyst of mass hysteria, its reputation only enhanced by fabricated newspaper reporting and inflated mythology, "Kane" demonstrates the power of storytelling, effects, genre and plot--the radio adaptation was so effective, after all, because the fictional news interrupted additional staged programming, not unlike the "News on the March" and other narrative tricks in the film. With the control and freedom granted from the radio-based RKO, Welles and company were able to do something even greater with the recruitment of some of the best talents in Hollywood for the primarily visual art form of cinema. There are reasons it's remained in the conversation as such, whether or not one considers it the greatest film of all time.