The Eyes of Orson Welles (15.)
Directed by Mark Cousins.
Featuring Mark Cousins, Beatrice Welles. 112 mins.
Some thirty years after we bid him rest in peace, Orson Welles finds himself wrenched from the ground to and be addressed on first name terms by Whisperin' Mark Cousins. "Dear Orson Welles," it begins, but after that, it's all very matey. It starts off with a catch up of what has been going on without him – 9/11, the internet, mobile phones, Obama, Trump - over shots of the New York skyline, before getting onto its main business which is explaining his life to him.
Welles tended to prefer the company of rich Eurotrash types, anyone who could provide him with fine wine, big meals and a good bullfight; would he have been buddies with the painfully earnest Cousins, the Belfast critic and filmmaker who has never seen a funding body he didn't fancy his chances of wheedling money out of? Orson had a fondness for struggling filmmakers who were a bit full of themselves and could talk a much better film than they could make, (notably Henry Jaglom) but I think he might have found Cousins' puppy dog fervour a bit too much. They do though bring out the best in each other.
Cousins is famous for his passion for movies, which is an essential attribute for a critic, but not enough in itself. Passion can be alienating if it seems like you are trying to take possession of the subject. Cousins quote about first seeing Touch of Evil when he was ten, “I swooned, I felt a whoosh of love,” seems designed to put as many backs up as possible. But after fifteen minutes, irritation at the approach is replaced by an appreciation for the quality of the insights. Built around a collection of Welles' sketches that Cousins collects from a secure storage unit in New York, the film explores his visual style, his politics and his love life, as well as his identification with Kings and Jesters. It's a very rich and rounded portrait, bringing something new to a man whose life has already been thoroughly explored.
He doesn't go for the obvious targets: his famous radio production of War of The World is unmentioned, Kane is not centred on and The Magnificent Amberson is largely brushed over. Instead, the film keeps coming back to often overlooked Welles films, Mr Arkadin and Macbeth. He pinpoints, perhaps inadvertently, his flaws, his fervour for overwhelming whatever topic he was addressing with his extravagant style.
I went into this thinking there was no need for another film on Welles, but this is worth the effort. Probably we should stop idolising Welles (he was ultimately a failure) but I suspect we will keep coming back to him because there was so much more to him than film directing, and therefore he was interesting. After him the intriguing big-name director was Kubrick and he just sat at home obsessing over films and the details of films, but did it in secret.
Magician
Lady From Shanghai
Touch of Evil
Chimes at Midnight
F is for Fake
The Immortal Story
Too Much Johnson
Directed by Mark Cousins.
Featuring Mark Cousins, Beatrice Welles. 112 mins.
Some thirty years after we bid him rest in peace, Orson Welles finds himself wrenched from the ground to and be addressed on first name terms by Whisperin' Mark Cousins. "Dear Orson Welles," it begins, but after that, it's all very matey. It starts off with a catch up of what has been going on without him – 9/11, the internet, mobile phones, Obama, Trump - over shots of the New York skyline, before getting onto its main business which is explaining his life to him.
Welles tended to prefer the company of rich Eurotrash types, anyone who could provide him with fine wine, big meals and a good bullfight; would he have been buddies with the painfully earnest Cousins, the Belfast critic and filmmaker who has never seen a funding body he didn't fancy his chances of wheedling money out of? Orson had a fondness for struggling filmmakers who were a bit full of themselves and could talk a much better film than they could make, (notably Henry Jaglom) but I think he might have found Cousins' puppy dog fervour a bit too much. They do though bring out the best in each other.
Cousins is famous for his passion for movies, which is an essential attribute for a critic, but not enough in itself. Passion can be alienating if it seems like you are trying to take possession of the subject. Cousins quote about first seeing Touch of Evil when he was ten, “I swooned, I felt a whoosh of love,” seems designed to put as many backs up as possible. But after fifteen minutes, irritation at the approach is replaced by an appreciation for the quality of the insights. Built around a collection of Welles' sketches that Cousins collects from a secure storage unit in New York, the film explores his visual style, his politics and his love life, as well as his identification with Kings and Jesters. It's a very rich and rounded portrait, bringing something new to a man whose life has already been thoroughly explored.
He doesn't go for the obvious targets: his famous radio production of War of The World is unmentioned, Kane is not centred on and The Magnificent Amberson is largely brushed over. Instead, the film keeps coming back to often overlooked Welles films, Mr Arkadin and Macbeth. He pinpoints, perhaps inadvertently, his flaws, his fervour for overwhelming whatever topic he was addressing with his extravagant style.
I went into this thinking there was no need for another film on Welles, but this is worth the effort. Probably we should stop idolising Welles (he was ultimately a failure) but I suspect we will keep coming back to him because there was so much more to him than film directing, and therefore he was interesting. After him the intriguing big-name director was Kubrick and he just sat at home obsessing over films and the details of films, but did it in secret.
Magician
Lady From Shanghai
Touch of Evil
Chimes at Midnight
F is for Fake
The Immortal Story
Too Much Johnson
