3.5 stars. There are certain Orson Welles films that I greatly admire. First and foremost among these is Citizen Kane, then Touch of Evil, The Lady from Shanghai, Macbeth , and even F for Fake. On a tier just below these, for me, are films like Chimes at Midnight, The Trial, and The Magnificent Ambersons. And then of course there is the brilliant War of the Worlds broadcast and his wonderful performances in films like The Third Man and Compulsion.
This book of interviews was first conceived when Welles was working with Peter Bogdanovich (director of films like Targets and The Last Picture Show) on The Other Side of the Wind, ultimately Welles' final film (unfinished at the time of his death in 1985). Recently, the unfinished film was released on Netflix (with some additional footage and with black screens and title cards indicating missing or unfinished segments), around the time that I started reading this book.
A fan of Welles (as evinced by my first paragraph), as well as of actor/director John Huston, who stars in The Other Side of the Wind, and of Bogdanovich, I was eager to watch the film when it was released. But despite some merits, I found it messy and onanistic (not unlike other projects of the later Welles, including F for Fake; though the latter had enough redeeming qualities to allow me to overlook its flaws). I was very disappointed in the final product and felt I had wasted more than two hours of my life in watching it.
While Welles felt that Kane was inferior to his later works, I wholeheartedly disagree, and think sometimes artists are not the best judge of their own work (Woody Allen case in point -- when asked to name his six best works he listed Match Point, Bullets Over Broadway, Zelig, Husbands and Wives, Purple Rose of Cairo and Vicky Cristina Barcelona; while I love all of those films, not including Annie Hall, Manhattan or Crimes and Misdemeanors, just one of them, is a shame). While not as messy as The Other Side of the Wind, I felt this book was not as insightful as it could have been.
In the pages of this book, Welles comes across at times as bitter (and he had a right to be, the way Hollywood treated him), and at times as a poor critic of the works of contemporary filmmakers, who he looks upon with disdain. The book, which Welles approached Bogdanovich to work on with him (as he was fond of a similar book that Bogdanovich did on director and Welles hero John Ford), was intended to "set the record straight" on certain aspects of Welles' career, namely his reputation as a director who couldn't get things done, focusing more than anything else on the troubles surrounding his second major film, The Magnificent Ambersons. But where the record is cleared in some areas, in other places it feels as though the work -- Bogdanovich and Welles both seemingly equally responsible for this -- just reinforces the legend of Welles. I couldn't help but agree with Richard Wilson's statement (printed in this book):
Books and articles about Welles, published mainly in England, France and Italy, abound in misinformation. One of the chief fonts of inaccuracy, I recognize, has been Orson himself. . . .
But one can't help but wonder if this isn't intentional. At the end of F for Fake, after all, Welles (the man responsible for the War of the Worlds broadcast) says, addressing the audience: "At the very beginning, I - of all this, I did make you a promise. Remember? I did promise that for one hour, I'd tell you only the truth. That hour, ladies and gentlemen, is over. For the past 17 minutes, I've been lying my head off. The truth, and please forgive us for it, is that we've been forging an art story. . ." Often contradictory (for Welles, like Walt Whitman, is a man of contradictions) Whitman's words "Very well then I contradict myself; (I am large, I contain multitudes)" could just as well apply to Welles as to America's great poet. A Renaissance man, an intellectual, an entertainer, a liar, a magician, a man, a myth. Orson Welles was all of these. And perhaps its for the best that this book isn't too pellucid. To quote from John Ford's The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance, "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."