Few motion pictures from the oeuvre of Orson Welles can be presumed as being fully realised, such is the vivid literature of production chaos accompanying each project. We have anomalies in Citizen Kane (1941) and Touch of Evil (1958) – and this the 1998 re-release that celebrated technical whiz Walter Murch translated from Welles’ 58-page instructions. Every other movie from Welles is a mess, though usually a daring and admirable work.
The enfant terrible of a hundred biographies was indulged one time only; he seldom again had the money to finish productions, or manage them, or bring his visions to satisfactory fruition. It’s one of cinemas great tragedies and there are more than plenty. He exists in this liminal world of half-realised dreams, grandiose what-might-have-beens, stunted ambition, self-sabotage, a proclivity for playing Icarus.
And The Lady from Shanghai (1947)? It’s a hoot. Despite the confusing plot (probably by design), it is technically cutting edge, with Welles’ virtuoso camera taking us on a wild ride up there with the most lauded noirs of the era. A highly funny film that verges on self-parody, especially in the courtroom scenes, it’s as weird as a Welles movie gets.
Worth watching for his ‘Irish’ accent alone.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 