Dates and times subject to change with little or no notice. Seating, you should know, is limited to a couch, a chair, and three square feet of floor. To request a spot, send an e-mail to tom@modernarthur.com specifying which movie(s) you would like to see and why.

SEVEN WEEKS FOR OLD ORSON

We begin, actually, with young Orson, on November 23rd. With a simultaneous screening of The Magnificent Ambersons and It's All True. The year was 1942. Orson was poised to make a follow-up to the colossus that was Citizen Kane, but typical studio meatheadery, low test audience scores, a Hearst-initiated Hollywood backlash, and even WWII weighed Orson down. In an effort to help America's war efforts, Orson left Ambersons during the editing process and went to South America, sent by Nelson Rockefeller to make a series of goodwill films under the U.S.'s Good Neighbor Policy. However, Orson's artsy, vérité take on the project was not what Rockefeller & Co. envisioned, and support for Orson's docudramas quickly waned. What's more, a mystic drove a blade through the shooting scripts and the work fell under a hex. The project was evetually abandoned, its scenes pieced together 50 years later, a decade after Orson's death. But worst of all was, while Orson was wrestling with his cursed vision in South America, RKO, the stateside studio in charge of Ambersons, strongarmed their way to the master print, cut it to pieces, and gave it a happy ending. That's right, simultaneous.

. . .

The only prerequisite for these Seven Weeks for Old Orson is to know that Orson made arguably the greatest movie of all time at the age of 25, only to be disputed for the rest of his career. There was never not a fight for Orson while he worked, it seemed, never not some suit to spar with. What we'll be focusing on is Orson from the age of 45 and beyond; from the onset of his professional punch-drunkedness to its sad, fat aftermath.

. . .

Let us jump ahead twenty years. We're in the sixties now. Witness the crash of the wave caused by the events surrounding The Magnificent Ambersons. Poor Orson--lonely at the top, as they say--has been pretty much phased out of Hollywood at this point, forced to patch his film art together a scene or two at a time, depending on if and when he can scrounge up money from backers in France, Italy, West Germany, Spain, Switzerland, Yugoslavia, or wherever. The American studios claim his films are too expensive, that despite being innovative they are not well received, and that Orson's enormous ego makes him difficult to work with. In some respects, they're not wrong. It's all quite depressing, really.

We'll kick the afternoon after Thanksgiving off by fast-forwarding through David and Goliath, from Orson scene to Orson scene (he didn't direct the movie, but he probably directed himself), before watching his "difficult" take on Kafka's The Trial. I've read that The Trial was considered "poor" in its day, but has since aged well, and is now regarded as "fine."

A fifteen minute breather, maybe twenty, then it's on to Chimes at Midnight, wherein Orson, despite a paltry budget, evidenced most in inconsistent sets and a shoddy soundtrack, lets his Shakespeare flag fly. He becomes Falstaff. And then he wins a Special Jury Prize at Cannes, naturally. Chimes at Midnight, success.

. . .

Orson Welles: The One Man Band, an invaluable documentary made in the 90s about Orson's unfinished projects of the 60s, 70s, and 80s will be shown on November 27th. If we can get our hands on Vienna, a short, Vienna will follow. Don't get your hopes up, though. It's a raaaaare one. Later that night we will fall asleep watching the remains of Orson's Don Quixote.

. . .

The late sixties, early seventies. [sigh] As far as the books and imdb.com are concerned, Orson's primarily an actor now. He still directs, but as we learned last week, in The One Man Band, it's not often that he directs to completion. In order to maintain the lifestlye of food, wine, and artistic demon-hunting he's grown accustomed to, Orson must act and act some more, usually in his friends' art house fare and/or at the B-level. B-level, meaning the movies are Bs. Orson's always A-level. What? He is!

There are many films to choose from from this period. I based my decisions on what was available on eBay for around $5. On November 30th, Blood and Guns, in which Orson plays a ruthless Mexican colonel will be followed by Orson's over-the-top (read: A+) turn as Long John Silver in Treasure Island. Tacos or fried shrimp or both, and wine, will be partaken in.

The Witching, also known as Necromancy, also known as The Toy Factory, also known as A Life for a Life, also known as Rosemary's Disciples deserves it's own night. The night of December 6th. In it, according to the back of its box, "Orson Welles plays the head of a witches' coven in the town of Lilith, where he needs the powers of Pamela Franklin to raise her son from the dead." I cannot wait.

Also deserving of its own night, if only because it sounds like it's gonna wear us out, is Malpertuis, a Gothic, Dutch, surreal, art house, haunted house mystery in which Orson plays a wealthy, old, eccentric coot whose fortune is given to the tenants of his crazy house upon his death, provided none of them ever leave. Early reports promise Greek mythology, mad taxidermy, an endless labyrinth, a series of grisly murders, and the two Ds: dread and decay. We'll be watching it on the 8th.

. . .

I've got a Field Trip in mind for the weekend of December 10th, to the Museum of TV & Radio. There we can hope to watch some of some, if not all of, if not more than, the following:

Shindig!; Orson Welles' Great Mysteries; Tut: The Boy King; Who's Out There?; Scene of the Crime; Magic with the Stars; Orson Welles' Magic Show; The Orson Welles Show

. . .

Christmastime is when I pack up and move to Pennsylvania for a week. If you care to join me, I will be dorking it up on the 26th with Transformers: The Movie. Orson voiced the character of Unicron just weeks before his death in '85. It would be his final performance. From those stageplays he made when he was just a pup at the Todd School for Boys in Illinois to Unicron the Transformer at the experienced old age of 70. From there. To here.

Transformers will be preceded by the original trailer for Star Wars, which Orson narrated.

Three days later, things take a turn towards the eerie and foreboding with a late-night showing of The Man Who Saw Tomorrow, a 1981 documentary about the predictions of Nostradamus. Orson "presents" the film, scaring us first about the icy accuracy of the Louis XVI, Napoleon, and JFK predictions, before going on to assure us that the world won't end until the year 3797 and Ted Kennedy will soon be our president.

Upon returning to New York, on the 30th, we will peruse the small amount of Orson's advertising work I've been able to round up, and the Frozen Peas outtakes will be listened to followed by an episode of The Critic which parodies them. And if I was able to find my old Animaniacs videos while I was home, we'll watch a Pinky & the Brain or two. Sadly, the laughs they bring will be short lived, as we segue abruptly into Orson's last appearance on film, as the character Danny's Friend in the melancholy Someone to Love, directed by someone not Orson, released two years after Orson's death. Orson spends his twenty minutes of screen time waxing poetic about life, love, loss, and loneliness presumably to Danny, his friend.

On the fourth day of the new year, we'll screen the other we're-all-doomed documentary Orson narrated, The Late Great Planet Earth. Based on the book of the same name, it chronicles events prophesized in the Bible that describe Jesus Christ's imminent return and the fiery peril that awaits us. Believe it or not, the New York Times claims the book was "the no. 1 non-fiction bestseller of [the seventies]." I guess that means it sold more than the actual Bible...

If by some stroke of luck I get my hands on the African termite documentary, Mysterious Castles of Clay, it will follow. I probably won't, thus it probably won't.

Then, the evening will draw to a close with Orson's heart-wrenching rendition of, "I Know What It Is To Be Young (But You Don't Know What It Is To Be Old)," his first and last foray into song-speaking.

. . .

And finally, on January 10th, we end our little festival with the impetus for it, F for Fake. It's about art and forgery, the truth and lies, part documentary, part unclassifiable. It is Orson's finish. Closure both for him and for us. Near its end, he has this to say:

And with that, we'll raise our glasses and toast the dead artist; our newfound friend, our surrogate grandfather, the genius giant that was and will forever be Orson Welles.



Presented by modernarthur.com/blog




Nov. 23
The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) + It's All True (1942/93)

Nov. 25
David & Goliath (1960)
The Trial (1962)
Chimes at Midnight (1965)

Nov. 27
Orson Welles: The One Man Band (1995)
Don Quixote (1957 - 72)

Nov. 30
Blood and Guns (1968)
Treasure Island (1972)

Dec. 7
Malpertuis (1971)

Dec. 8
The Witching (1972)

Dec. 10
Field Trip to Museum of Television & Radio

Dec. 26
Star Wars trailer (1977)
Transformers: The Movie (1986)

Dec. 29
The Man Who Saw Tomorrow (1981)

Dec. 31
Frozen Peas outtakes
The Critic episode (1995)
Orson advertisements
Someone to Love (1987)

Jan. 4
The Late Great Planet Earth (1979)
"I Know What It Is To Be Young" (1984)

Jan. 10
F for Fake (1974)