As we sat there in the dark, I kept thinking how incredible it was that a 75-year-old black-and-white film could still seem so fresh and illicit such awe in this day of glossy, highly kinetic computer-generated entertainment.
But such is the cinematic power of Orson Welles' 1941 tale of newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane, a film highly praised at the time of its release but quickly forgotten, only to be rediscovered decades later and universally anointed the greatest film ever made.
Welles was just 25 when production began on Kane in August of 1940. He had achieved great success in radio with his Mercury Theatre company and RKO Pictures had come courting, offering the untried auteur a film contract with complete artistic freedom. Welles was both star and director, had co-written the script and cast the film with actors from his theatre troupe, all virtually unknown to Hollywood.
The film unfolds in flashbacks and follows the life of a young country boy who in 1871 is transferred into the custody of New York financier Walter Thatcher (George Coulouris) by his mother after a literal gold mine is discovered on the family's property. Mary Kane (Agnes Moorehead) wants a better life for her son, a proper education and to be free from the clutches of her abusive husband.
When we next see Charlie Kane he's 25 (now played by Welles) and in full possession of his $60 million-plus fortune. One of the assets that intrigues him is the New York Inquirer. As he writes Thatcher: "I think it would be fun to run a newspaper."
So with the help of college friend Jed Leland (Joseph Cotton), Kane begins to raise the circulation, via salacious journalism, allowing him to acquire more newspapers and slowly build an empire. Soon he's marrying the President's niece and mounting a run for governor of New York. But things take a turn for the worse when his affair with aspiring singer Susan Alexander (Dorothy Comingore) is revealed, costing Kane his marriage and derailing any political chances he once had.
Kane in turn becomes a recluse, retreating to his palatial Xandadu compound where he makes it his mission to turn the talentless Alexander into a singing superstar.
I first saw Citizen Kane in a high-school film class and was instantly taken by its masterful script (it won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay), effortless acting and exquisite photography. I saw it again in college and my affinity only grew.
Over the years I've sought out a revival screening or two (even taking my mom to one) and each time I've left the theater in a state of sheer awe, in both craft and relevance decades after its release. It's not one I revisit every year, but it is a film that unequivocally reminds me of why I love cinema every time I screen it.
You can count on one hand the films that still resonate today 75 years after their release. Citizen Kane is one that will continue to be studied and admired by generations of movie lovers: old ones like me, and new ones yet to discover its charms. I'm envious already.
Happy Thanksgiving!
