The man who wrote Citizen Kane, laid bare
THE LEGEND OF ORSON WELLES IS A FOLK SONG with many stanzas and no end. He was a genius and a tyrant, a young rogue who either maximized or squandered his talent, depending on whom you talk to, an imperious figure who, in his last years, gained too much weight and had to peddle wine on TV commercials to make some dough. Welles and the movie that made him, 1941’s Citizen Kane, are the stuff of lore. But Kane wouldn’t be Kane without Herman J. Mankiewicz, the man who co-wrote—or possibly even just wrote—its script, almost without getting credit. A great wit, raconteur, heavy drinker and gambler, Mankiewicz deserves his own wry, sardonic ballad, served up with a double shot. If only more people actually remembered, or cared, who he was.
David Fincher cares. With his he’s made a movie that revels in an era when journalists, novelists and playwrights flocked to Hollywood to make big money, sometimes screwing up their lives even in the face of their great good fortune. is a clever and entertaining feat of old-Hollywood hagiography, rendered in pearlescent black and white that mimics the look of films from Mankiewicz’s own lost era. It’s a detail that’s especially poignant since most people will end up watching on comparatively small screens, at home. (It was produced by Netflix.)
