Friday, February 20, 2015

It Happened One Oscar Night Eighty Years Ago

It Happened One Night Is Playing in Theaters

It Happened One Oscar Night Eighty Years Ago

(from Sag Harbor Express Online 2/19/15)


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By Danny Peary
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Considering the title of Frank Capra’s classic, it seems odd that this weekend the IFC Center will be showing It Happened One Night at 11 a.m. in the morning.  But no matter, it’s Oscar weekend and this 105-minute, black-and-white comedy gem captured all the major awards for 1934 on February 27, 1935 at the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles.  So see it after breakfast even if you have to hitch a ride, as Clark Gable (who was loaned to Columbia Pictures as punishment) and Claudette Colbert do unforgettably in the film. Incidentally, Colbert, a splendid actress who is too often forgotten today, had to be persuaded to get off a train bound for New York to collect her statue.  No true movie fan should have to be persuaded to see this marvelous film whenever it plays on the big screen, but let me reprint what I wrote about it thirty years ago inGuide for the Film Fanatic:
“Irresponsible heiress Claudette Colbert (as Ellie Andrews) runs away from home after her father (Walter Connolly) annuls her marriage to a no-account aviator playboy.  She wants to get back to the playboy and becomes the object of a nationwide search.  She ends up on a bus with boozy, hardboiled reporter Clark Gable (as Peter Warne).  He says he won’t turn her in, as long as he can get an exclusive on her story–that will get him his job back at the paper that fired him.  On their journey they do a lot of squabbling, but fall in love.  Super Frank Capra comedy was supposed to be a minor picture but wound up as the first picture to win all five major Oscars: Best Picture (a rarity for a comedy), Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Adapted Screenplay (by Robert Riskin).  Many critics regard it as the first screwball comedy, but the humor is surprisingly controlled.  It comes naturally from the two actors, whose characters are wild only at the beginning.  What makes the film so special is that it is composed ofsmall moments–Gable demonstrating hitching techniques for Colbert (who realizes a pretty leg is better than a thumb); Gable teaching Colbert how to dunk donuts properly; Gable carrying Colbert across a stream and arguing with her about the definition of a piggy back ride; the motel scene (Gable didn’t wear an undershirt, causing sales to decline nationwide) in which Colbert and Gable sleep on opposite sides of a hanging blanket–the “Walls of Jericho” will come tumbling down in the end.  Weirdest scene has Gable pretending to be a mobster to scare off Roscoe Karns so he won’t blab about Colbert’s whereabouts–Gable actually threatens to harm his children.  From Samuel Hopkins Adams’ story “Night Bus,” which provided the title. Also with Jameson Thomas (as the aviator), Alan Hale, Ward Bond.”  Good news is that the IFC Center is showing a new print that was made from a digitally-restored master film copy.  It was restored frame-by-frame from the original negative in 2013 of the pre-production-code film that Colbert thought back in 1934 was “the worst picture in the world”–until she took home (or to New York) her only Academy Award this week eighty years ago.

Friday, February 13, 2015

See the Vain Die Ugly in Jane Clark's "Crazy Bitches"

On VOD

See the Vain Die Ugly in Jane Clark's Crazy Bitches

(from Sag Harbor Express Online 2/11/15)


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By Danny Peary
Jane Clark
Jane Clark
It is a fertile time for horror films directed by women. Australian Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook and Iranian Ana Lily Amirpour’s A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night have become cult hits and have had long theatrical runs, including at the IFC Center in New York.  Leigh Janiak’s Honeymoon, a creepy body-snatcher film I can’t stop thinking about, was one of many that recently played on VOD.  Jessica Cameron, Tonjia Atomic, and other determined female directors have been churning out micro-budget pictures that play at horror festivals (some only for women directors) or stream online, and have built up large fan bases.  Now joining the crowd is Jane Clark, who is best known for her award-winning shorts and a striking 2013 non-horror feature starring Lukas Haas, Meth Head.  Her new low-budget slasher comedy, with the inviting title of Crazy Bitches,debuts Friday on VOD and numerous web sites.  If 50 Shades of Greyturns out not to be the ideal Valentine’s Day film for you and your honey, Clark’s take on twisted love might be the perfect antidote.
It’s 2015, but characters in horror movies still don’t know better than to spend their holidays in isolated cabins, including ones where ghastly murders have taken place and the killer is still on the loose. In defense of Clark’s crazy bitches who hold a reunion at a ranch far away from civilization, they don’t learn about the past murders until they’ve already unpacked and are thinking about alcohol and sex–and they don’t realize that prior to their arrival, one of them, the sex-crazed Viviana (Candis Cayne, the first transgendered actress to play a starring role on a network TV series, Dirty Sexy Money) met a gruesome fate in the opening scene of the movie.
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So Taylor (Samantha Colburn), seductive lesbian Cassie (Cathy DeBuono), Minnie (Liz McGeever), Alice (Victoria Profeta)–who has learned her husband has been sleeping around–Belinda (Guinevere Turner), Dorri (Nayo Wallace), Princess (Mary Jane Wells), and token catty gay guy BJ (Andy Gala) settle in, as Clark writes in her synopsis, “for several days of gossip, girl time and grub.  They start off where they always do, old rivalries in place, extreme vanity covering great insecurities, but a true love for each other is underneath the bickering, sniping, and sassing.”  But when girls disappear or turn up dead, the survivors “turn on each other, accusing one another of jealousy, chemical imbalance and murder.  The accusations are improbable, sort of, but could one of them have actually done it?  The weekend turns into a race against death.  Who will make it out alive?”  I became curious about Crazy Bitches when I saw Jane Clark’s witty, clever video asking for funding for her movie.  I was pleased to be able to do the following interview with the amicable director-writer-producer only a month later, in time for her film’s premiere.
Danny Peary: You live in Los Angeles but have been a programmer and board member for the Woods Hole Film Festival in Cape Cod, Massachusetts.  Are you from either place?
Jane Clark: I grew up in Delaware but spent my summers in Woods Hole as a kid. The Woods Hole Film Festival was the first festival I played at with my first short film, Dog Gone, and from there I developed a friendship with the program director, Judy Laster, and a fondness for what is a really lovely and fun festival. Unfortunately, I had to step down from the board recently because of time constraints.
DP: What was your background that led you into acting and then writing, directing, and producing?
JC: My background is fairly eclectic. I was one of those kids that didn’t know what they wanted to do. My mother wanted me to be a psychologist because she thought I had good intuition about and empathy for people. My parents were academics and really expected the same from me, but to their credit they also were very into the arts so I was raised on theater, musicals, opera–we went to art museums and concert halls. I studied classical piano, played the sax in all three bands in school, and on my down time liked to sketch and read. I was great in creative writing. They were striving to make me a well-balanced individual, which I think they accomplished, but it also backfired on them because I found myself really drawn to be a creator. I started with acting and painting, but when I tried my hand at filmmaking I realized all the disciplines I enjoyed were compacted into this one career–writing, acting, frame, color, texture, music, tempo–all of it are elements to a good film. Then add to that the good intuition and empathy that my mother recognized early on andvoila!
DP: For those of us who watched the late 1990s television series, Chicago Hope, would we have been familiar with your recurring character back then?
JC: It wasn’t anything too glamorous. I was a nurse. They never gave my character the same name because I think that would have required giving me a contract, but they liked me and knew they could rely on me to do the job. I ended up doing about 14 episodes over two years. Every now and then someone thinks they recognize me from it, but you’d have to have been a really loyal fan for that to be the case.
DP: At the time you were acting on television and seemingly having a breakthrough, were you thinking of making movies?
JC: That’s the irony of Chicago Hope. It was a great gig because I loved being on that big set and the paycheck was decent. I did initially think that it could lead to something bigger. When it became evident the producers weren’t inclined to give me anything more involved, I wrote an episode with an actress who played another of the other recurring nurses. We worked ourselves into small but significant roles in the hope we would inspire the writers to do the same, but it never happened. I think that’s when I started really getting frustrated with the business. Then the show ended, and I just knew I had to do something more.
DP: Did you lose an interest in acting, even in your own films, or think it would be too hard to write parts for yourself and act and direct at the same time?
JC: Acting is a craft and you operate to a degree with an awareness of the technical aspects of the job. But to be truly present for the people you are acting with, and to deliver as truthful a performance as possible, you also need to be able to work at a certain level of unconsciousness. At least that is how I do my best work. Directing requires an objective eye. You need to be an observer to the actor’s work so you can guide them if and when they need it.  I think my job as a director is to provide a safe and trusting place for an actor to take chances. They need to trust that I am there for them 100 percent so when I asked them for something, they know it’s a well-considered request. For me, the two skills, acting and directing, don’t mesh at the same time. I wouldn’t say I’d never act in my own films, but if I did it would be in a small role in a simple scene. I’d certainly be happy to act in someone else’s film though!
DP: Do you think you could have made Meth Head and Crazy Bitches right off the bat or did you need to learn to make features by making your shorts first?
JC: I was attached to direct a feature before I had produced or directed anything. And we came close to getting it funded. We had a star attached, the budget was $1M, and we had several large companies interested. It fell apart–long story–but it was really a lucky thing. Knowing what I know now, I don’t think I could have pulled it off at the level that I expect from myself. When it fell apart, I took a step back, acknowledged that making features was really something I wanted to take a stab at, and then set about teaching myself what I needed to know as a producer and as a director to make sure I had the confidence and knowledge to make my first feature a good one.
DP: Did your shorts have common themes and similar amounts of drama and humor, or did you want to try completely different films each time?
JC: They are each different and similar at the same time. My through line is my love of character–they are all driven by character and relationships. And each script has true story at the core of it, as well as humor–some more, some less–with the exception of The Touch, which is serious and sad. But each is different in the way they look visually and in the type of story I’m telling. I’ve done everything from films dealing with social issues to family films to romantic period dramas.
DP: So it was always your goal to make feature films.  I think almost every short filmmaker has that as a goal, but because you are writing a book about making short films, my guess is that you love the form and wouldn’t mind continuing to make shorts.
JC: It has always been my goal to make features for many reasons, not the least of which is that I hope I make a living at this directing thing! I do, however, think shorts are a great learning tool, a calling card for people to see what you are capable of, and in their own right quite fun and challenging. My book sprang from the panels I have done over the years at seminars. I’ve sat on panels with people who have been much more experienced and much higher up the ladder. And I’ve sat in audiences and listened to those same people. And what became apparent is that as esteemed as those other producers and filmmakers are, they are so far removed from the realities of most of the people attending the seminars that they really couldn’t offer specific help. But I could. Most of the people attending those seminars hadn’t made one film yet. Or perhaps they had made a short, but it hadn’t turned out so well. So I thought that since I couldn’t get to every panel and talk to every aspiring filmmaker, I would put it all down and offer my knowledge in a more accessible way. The book works just as well for making a feature, because I never saw short films as being less. Everything I learned to do to make a good short film applies to my feature work as well.
DP: Did you give yourself permission to make Crazy Bitches, a loony film about female characters, because you had already made an intense film about male characters, Meth Head?
JC: I really didn’t think about gender with Meth Head except that I wanted to make sure meth addiction was portrayed honestly and felt strongly that meant one of the addicts needed to be a woman. But the decision to make the film was primarily sparked by need. I had lost a family member to meth at about the time my actor friend, John W. McLaughlin, came back into my life and told me he had dropped out because he had become addicted to the drug. He told me really the bookends of his story, how he got in and how he got out, and I was stunned by even those limited details. The fact that two people that I loved were struck down by this drug–one made it out and one didn’t, but both paid a great price–broke my heart. Still, I didn’t think of putting it to film until I was sitting at the awards show at Sundance, frustrated I wasn’t there with a film of my own. I met a woman director there who had won an award and she had made her feature film for $150K and some grants. I thought, dammit! That’s what I have to do, figure out a film I can make for a controlled budget, but about something I can care about, something that would be worth the sacrifices. The idea of Meth Head popped in my head, and I texted John right then and said, “When I get home we need to talk. If you are willing to share your story with me, I think we can make a really powerful movie.” [John W. McLaughlin appeared in Meth Head and Crazy Bitches.]
DP: For decades females didn’t make horror films–and for the most part didn’t see them either.  Why do you think there are suddenly many women making really good horror movies, from The Babadook to Honeymoon to A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night?
JC: And Crazy Bitches, I hope. I’m not sure, truthfully, but I hope it translates into an easier time for women getting the films financed and distributed in the future.  I think there is a difference in films made by women whether horror or any other genre. There is no getting around the reality that men and women are different in many ways, filmmaker or not. And since that is the reality, then of course we often have a different approach to storytelling. Not any better, not any worse, just different. And perhaps, because the woman’s voice hasn’t been heard much it feels fresh right now. Eventually, when women have gained parity in the industry the differences will just be about the artist and not their gender.
DP: Do you like the “cabin in the woods” subgenre or did it serve your purpose?
JC: It served my purpose, but I do like it. I tend to enjoy horror films that keep me suspended in tension and “cabin in the woods” allows for that automatically because there is no easy escape.
DP: Of course, it reminded me of all those cabin in the wilderness movies, but also slasher films in which a secret killer wants revenge on young people, and The Descent, because there are only females who are isolated and in trouble.  Were there any horror films that influenced you?
JC: Well Friday the 13th is indelible, but partly because I saw it for the first time on a date. A guy asked me to come over and watch a movie, and that was the movie. Getting scared in a dark room and being alone with a cute guy is part of the memory. The Descent is pretty awesome. I think somewhere along the line, I got caught up in the serious actor thing and stopped watching scary movies for awhile, so my education is stunted and I tend to go back to old school slasher movies and films like The Omen. Specifically to Crazy Bitches, the other film that influenced me wasn’t a horror movie. It wasBridesmaids. Since I am primarily focused on the girls and who they are to each other and within themselves, the horror acts as a fun backdrop but it’s the humor that cements it.
DP: In the production notes you say the genesis of Crazy Bitches was a close friend saying something insensitive to you in order to boost her own ego.  How did the idea from the film start with that and expand?
JC: I started thinking about what she said and why she said it. The statement sounded vain, but under it was this huge insecurity. I knew her well enough to understand that. The idea that vanity is really the flip side of insecurity and that those two things are contained in one person gave me the start to the shades of gray I’m always interested in. That expanded out to this idea that we as human beings are very quick to judge others by first impressions, but the truth is that if you take the time to really know someone you will find out they are so much more than what you assumed–or perhaps not even close to what you assumed.  The reality is any judgment we lay on someone at first sight is determined as much by their surface appearance and behavior as by our own feelings about ourselves.
DP: While watching your film I was thinking of the four leads in Girls being part of a group (probably with the male leads) that goes to a cabin in the woods and then everyone starts saying insensitive, bitchy things to each other as they always do…and then dealing with somebody trying to kill them off.   Is that something similar to your concept of this film?  I ask half in jest but as with your characters, those four characters in Girls are insufferable and insensitive and say the worst things to deflate each other but somehow…we get to like them…
JC: Crazy Bitches was written before Girls appeared. I’ve never actually seen the show. But from what I understand, they try to strip the relationships down to an honest truth–girls can be not so nice to each other at times. But here’s the thing. They actually care about each other. At least in Crazy Bitches, they might say things that are insensitive and sometimes they don’t mean to hurt and sometimes they do, but that doesn’t negate the fact that they absolutely love each other.
DP: I would think the hardest thing about making your movie is tone, because it’s a wild ride and often over the top but you do insert some seriousness into it.
JC: Yes, tone is always tricky. But the mantra to the actors was “keep it real.” The humor and pathos being mixed would never work unless the actors embodied their characters truthfully and fully. You walk the line a little bit when it’s appropriate, but if they were playing over-the-top, you’d never buy the characters as real people, and the more serious stuff wouldn’t work. The piece would feel uneven. Instead, because the actors are playing the truth of each moment, the over-the-top moments work because they come from the circumstances that they find themselves in.
DP: I said before that the young women in your movie are a bit hard to like at first–it’s as if they are the only ones who can tolerate each other–but talk about the difficulty of getting us to like your characters and then killing them off?
JC: Because the film, for me, speaks to the damage that words can do, from the thoughtless to the heartless, these women had to be real and if they are real, then you have to feel at least empathy for them. And then they have to die. Because this is after all a horror film! But I liked that challenge and I think it makes the film a more interesting journey because of it.
DP: I believe the deaths viewers will have the hardest time dealing with is of two women who just before they are killed had a conversation where they left vanity behind and were very open about their vulnerabilities to each other–showing tremendous progress in overcoming damage in their lives.  Was this something you considered?
JC: My goal was always to make you care about the people who are dying and that means you have to know them a little deeper than on the surface. And I think the contradictions within the scenes and scene-by-scene help with that. I also really like the contradictions. I like humor mixed into a sensitive conversation or anger pressed up against compassion. I like it because that is really true to life. I’ve used it in other films, but I pushed it more in this film than I have before. I think the idea that it was a horror film gave me more liberty to play with the tone, as you mentioned before.
DP: Talk about your cast, including Guinevere Turner, who was terrific in the groundbreaking Fish, and co-wrote with Mary Harron, American Psycho and The Notorious Bettie Page.
JC: Guinevere is awesome. We met at a party. She insisted that I give her a role and thankfully she is a hard person to say no to. I love my entire cast and they each brought their own intelligence and ideas to the characters. Part of my greatest joy in directing is the time I spend both in rehearsal and on the set, learning to understand the actors and finding a way to give each one what they need to do their best work.
DP:  I would think that since you wanted friction between the young women, you’d push a bunch of actresses who didn’t know each other into a close space so the tension between them was real.  But did they know each other?
JC: Actually, I think it’s just the opposite–actors can “act” tension or annoyance, but the bond between people is more of an organic thing. For instance, in Meth Head, Lukas Haas and Wilson Cruz were friends and had worked together as kids, so finding a true affection for each other was easy because it was real–which was especially helpful because Lukas is straight.  With Crazy Bitches, I originally wrote each role for someone I knew. Partly because selfishly I thought it would be fun to work with a bunch of friends. And partly because I was counting on everyone knowing each other, or at least I assumed if they were friends of mine, they would all get along. The idea that all the actors really like each other is particularly important because the characters love each other despite their faults. In the end, not everyone I wrote for was free when we were ready to shoot so I did bring in new people. That made rehearsal even more valuable as it gave them all time to get to know each other a bit. A few of them went out socially beforehand as well to facilitate that camaraderie.
DP: Were there auditions and script readings or was everything too rushed to do that?
JC: Most of the actors were cast well before we shot. But I had to recast four key roles at the last minute, which for me was a potential nightmare. I had one day of auditions set up to accomplish the impossible, and I was ready to push the film back if I couldn’t pull it off.  I never leave the level of talent up for grabs, and I am incredibly discerning about my choices, so it was a lucky stroke of fate when one-by-one the right person walked in for each unfilled role. Truthfully, I couldn’t believe it. Three days later we were doing a table read, and the next day we kicked into a week of rehearsals.
I don’t ever work without rehearsals because the reality is that once we are shooting, it is fast and furious. We blocked out most of the scenes ahead of time and then talked about intention and how each of the characters relates in the scene at hand. I also had conversations with the actors to discuss their own motivations, backstory, etc. After blocking and conversation, we’d run the scene until we had worked out the kinks. We also used that time to do some improv, which gleaned a few comedic gems. With all of that under the skin, we could show up on the day and not spend valuable shooting time working things out off camera.
DP: Usually, a writer-director will say she or he is part of every character.  I’m going to guess that you know all these women very well but none of them are you.
JC: Actually, some are less of me and more based on people I know. That said, Princess and Taylor are the closest to me. It may seem counter-intuitive because they are very different people, but we’re all complex and these two women represent my duality.
DP: Taylor is supposedly a virgin who is afraid of sex, with men or women. Usually virgins survive in slasher movies because they have their wits about them, but Taylor is clearly vulnerable.  Princess is super smart yet she has the stupidest name and she is stupid in wanting sex and more sex with imbecile ranch hand Gareth [Blake Berris], putting herself in danger.  Does sex neutralize intelligence?
JC: No. Insecurity does. Princess doesn’t have sex with Gareth because she’s horny (though he is awfully cute.) She is insecure about her physical appeal. Getting Gareth’s attention and turning him on (albeit on a short-term basis) reassures her that she is an attractive individual. Because it isn’t real however, every time she sleeps with a guy and he moves on, her low self-worth is re-activated and she needs to repeat the action. That makes her appear as if she’s some confident sexed-up being, but she’s actually just the opposite. Now Viviana is truly a powerfully sexual woman.
DP: I thought it was interesting that the most tension between characters is between gay BJ and lesbian Cassie.  Does he feel threatened by her, and not just physically?
JC: I’m not sure he feels threatened by her physically, truthfully. He’s like a smart and feisty little dog that thinks he can challenge the big German Shepard. It is more his ego that is threatened. Every time he tries to take charge, Cassie steps in and everyone follows her instead. He also, over the course of the film, starts to feel like his friendship with his BFF, Minnie, is threatened. At the same time BJ and Cassie do have a common bond in that they both came out when that was a harder thing to do, and at times, BJ actually rises to Cassie’s defense. No relationship is without jealousy, envy, and resentment even when it exists because of love and commonality.
DP: In typical cabin in the woods-wilderness movies, almost all the guys and the female bimbos think about sex all the time. In your film Cassie and Gareth are the two who try to seduce every woman.  Talk about that and whether you were trying to draw a parallel between them, at least before she rethinks her position in a scene with Minnie.
JC: I liked the parallels because I like stripping away the difference between gay and straight.
DP: Talk about directing group scenes and intimate two-character scenes.  Which do you prefer?
JC: They each have their beauty. I couldn’t pick one over the other. Two person scenes are quiet intimate experiences, which can be really special. And I will say the more people in the scene the more difficult the job, because I still need to be guiding each of those people to their best work. It compounds when you add the fact that I do a two-camera shoot, in which case I’m also dealing with two monitors and two different views. But that challenge, when executed well, is also part of the thrill.
DP: What was the reaction to your film at the recent Desperado LGBT Film Festival in Phoenix?
JC: We had so much fun! We’ve played about 20 events this past fall and summer, and I’ve made it to about 10 of those. Desperado was our last US festival and the audience was terrific. Most stayed for the Q&A and there was a line of people who wanted to jump in on photos so it was a full night!
DP: I’m sure there was a big laugh each time Cassie complains, “Fuckin’ straight girls!”
JC: That always gets a laugh, straight/gay, men/women, doesn’t matter.
DP: Talk about the making of this film because I know there were a lot of difficulties because of time and location.
JC: It was tough. I’m lucky I had low-budget boot camp making Elena Undone [which Clark produced in 2010 for writer-director Nicole Conn] and Meth Head because I wouldn’t have made it through otherwise. There is a real skill in making limited funding and 15 days of shooting work. We started by shooting six nights in a row because I had to be out of the house before the owner returned from a trip, which started the production in a challenging way. It was blistering hot, which was not only physically uncomfortable for everyone, but it was stressful because the whole film was built around rain and thunderstorms. We stood in horse manure for a couple of hours for one scene. That was fun. We had blood gag knives that didn’t work, equipment that was defective, and a makeup trailer that lost electricity in the first hour. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. It could easily have blown up on me if the crew had rebelled, but no one did. We really became a team in that all-for-one and one-for-all kind of way.
DP: Talk about working with your cinematographer, Cecilia Guerrero–again.
JC: I adore her. She was my second camera on Meth Head and we got to know each other a bit as artists on that film. She had a great eye for detail and a great spirit as well. I’ve had some talented DPs over the years, but ours was the easiest relationship I’ve ever developed with one. We talked a lot about the mood and the lighting and the idea of creating dark corners where scary things could be hiding, which she did beautifully. We spent a lot of time in the days leading up to the shoot talking through my diagrams (I do shot lists and diagrams but not storyboards) and bringing her ideas to my vision. We actually stayed in an RV on the property the first six days so we could have more time to work each afternoon before the shooting day started.
DP: I like the music, including “Crimson and Clover” by someone who sounds a little like Susannah Hoffs.  How did you want to use your soundtrack?
JC: I think music can either enhance a film or cause the audience to bump out, and it’s a tricky process finding the right material and using it well. I have gotten a lot of compliments on both the Crazy Bitches and Meth Head soundtracks, so I think I do pretty well in my choices. I have a music supervisor, Jennifer Corday, who is connected with great, fresh talent. I also tapped friends to give me music, and I had some musicians that came through referrals. The “Crimson & Clover” track was a fluke. On little films like this you really can’t afford a song like that. I was looking only for temp music for that scene so that I could cut the scene. But as my composer likes to say, I fell into “temp love.” I couldn’t see the scene without it. So I got the publishing rights then asked my friend Edith Crash to work with me on a rendition that would go with the cut. My composer, Charlton Pettus, is also a music producer so he came on to meld the pieces into a beautiful whole.
DP: Is there a point where we’re supposed to solve the mystery about the identity of the killer or killers, or is that impossible until “the reveal” at the end?  Or even impossible after that because you are not revealing everything?
JC: Ha! No, I’m not revealing everything. Some things you’ll just have to wait to find out in Crazier Bitches! There are clues all the way through, though. It’s pretty dense material and it goes fast. A lot of the clues are subtle, but some people have gotten at least part of it. I’ve been told by a few fans who have gone to several different festivals that they actually liked it better on repeat viewing because once you know who did it, you could stop figuring and start noticing much more of the detail.
DP: I’d correct them by saying “you know one person who did it.”  So the open ending will be leading to Crazier Bitchesand Craziest Bitches?
JC: With any luck and a serious investor, yes! I’ve got the concept for Crazier Bitches and a business plan for both films, and I’d like finance both films together and shoot them back-to-back.
DP: Where does this film fit into your career as a whole?
JC: It is my master plan to always be learning and growing and challenging myself. And to never fall into sameness. So jumping from the intensity of Meth Head to the insanity of Crazy Bitches is a great start.  I admit I have gotten slightly hooked on horror and, besides completing my Bitches trilogy, I have written and am dying to make a ghostly love story and I am writing another project for Candis Cayne that is a more serious slasher.  Also I have a detective/serial killer film set up to shoot in Paris as soon as we can find our leads, and I’m interested in writing a biopic.  So while I will probably live a little longer in the horror world, I will also be expanding out to new genres and returning to a few older ones as well.
DP: How and when can people see Crazy Bitches?
JC: On February 13th, we release Crazy Bitches on the Web on sites like iTunes, YouTube, Googleplay, and Vudu; and on VOD on pretty much every cable and satellite TV platform including Time/Warner, Comcast, Charter, DiSH, ATT Uverse, and Verizon FiOS. The DVD and Blu-ray will come out on April 1, and we expect to launch internationally sometime in early May. If enough fans are interested, we may take Crazy Bitches on a mini-theatrical tour on Halloween. People can keep up with us on the website www.thecrazybitchesmovie.com, Facebook at thecrazybnation, and Twitter at @CrazyBitchesMov.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

On VOD: Ruth Wilson in "A Walk Among the Tombstones"

Playing on VOD

On VOD: Ruth Wilson in A Walk Among the Tombstones

(from Sag Harbor Express Online 1/29/15)

walkamongposter
By Danny Peary
Ruth Wilson.
Ruth Wilson.
Until she recently won Golden Globe as the Best Actress in a Drama Series for Showtime’s “The Affair,” Ruth Wilson was known best in the US for her TV work at home in England: “Suburban Shootout,” “Jane Eyre,” and as Alice Morgan opposite Idris Elba in “Luther.”  That didn’t change despite her having the female leads in two major American movies, “A Walk Among the Tombstones” and “The Lone Ranger.”  But now that she’s captured a major award for a critically-acclaimed (and renewed) TV series, her celebrity has increased and there is new curiosity about her two movie performances before she was a drawing card.  ”A Walk Among the Tombstones,” which director-screenwriter Scott Frank adapted from the novel by Lawrence Block, is now being featured on VOD.  Initially, the film’s lone drawing card was Liam Neeson, who plays Matthew Scudder, a troubled former cop who is now a troubled unlicensed P.I. hot on the trail of murderous kidnappers.  But you might want to take a look now because of Wilson, who plays Jo, a police detective who once had a relationship with Scudder.  For the Australian magazine FilmInk, I did a set visit for Scott Frank’s thriller, during which I watched a scene in which Joe and Matt reunite in a bar and did the following brief one-on-one with the very cool actress.
Danny Peary: Is the scene we saw today Jo’s first scene in the movie?
Ruth Wilson: Yeah, it’s the first time she and Matt meet. She doesn’t appear until halfway through the movie, actually. She comes in quite late. They haven’t seen each other for a number of years, and he has left that world because the drink was getting to him, he needed to get out. And in the first half of the movie, he’s being dragged back into the world. And he comes to Jo who he used to work with and had a certain chemistry withyears ago, to get information out of her. To share information, is how they do it. In that time that they’ve not been in each other’s world she’s gone from being a cop on the beat to being a detective, so she has much higher standing. It’s almost an alternative life he could have had. You never know what would happened between them…
DP: Are you wearing the ring of your character?
RW: Yeah, yeah.  The wedding ring isn’t mine, I’m single still.
DP: How did this role come to you?
RW: Scott Frank offered it to me. He’d seen Luther and heard that I worked with John Lee Hancock and Gore Verbinski last year.  Both are friends of Scott’s. Scott was looking for someone and I think John said, “You really got to see this girl.”. So he went to see a film I did last year, and he offered to me.
DP: You’d read the script…
RW: I read the script, of course, and thought the characters are really strong.  Scott’s writing has a real depth of character, the scenes are complex and quite interesting;  it’s not straight-forward, everything is very subtle and underneath the words. He’s an amazing writer, the best, so to work with him as a director is really exciting.
DP: I would say the scene you did today would have been appropriate for audition. Did you audition?
RW: It is, but he offered me the part without an audition. That doesn’t happen very often. You take the jobs that are given to you, and you don’t have to audition for them, it’s much easier.
DP: Did you and Liam know each other before or meet each other on the film?
RW: Liam I met when I came out here and we started filming. I met him on set so we chatted then. Liam had seen a lot of my work, and I know a lot of his friends. We chatted a bit about it. We spoke to Scott a lot about our scenes.
DP: How many more scenes do you have to film?
RW: I’ve just got one more left, tomorrow. In the whole film there are only four scenes. They’re all quite long. What you saw today is our first scene, and there’s three others after it. That’s a four-minute scene. The other ones are very long and kind of detailed. A lot of comes out in those scenes. I have found that quite hard, that you come on to something and you’re drafted and we film these scenes over three weeks, so it’s hard to do.  You drop in, do your bit, out again. Each day feels like the first day, which is always rough. But Liam has made me feel at ease, and Scott has too, so it’s been good.  I usually prefer more rehearsals, I quite like working it through and deciding what you’re going to do and then –”got it!” And then a scene doesn’t take so long to shoot. But in this case we have scenes that are long and we’re finding the way to go. It’s quite a demanding process in that way. But it’s interesting.
DP: In the scene I saw, it takes only about 20 seconds before we know most of their history, which is impressive. Did you talk more about their history off-camera?
RW: Yeah, yeah. We talked about how things could have happened between them. She’s much younger, but she has that relationship with him. They had a real connection, and they understand the world in the same way. Everyone knows stories about him. She’s the one person who can put him on the spot, ask him questions, and say to him, “Why are you here, what are you doing, have you stopped drinking?” She’s the only person in the whole film who does that. She actually questions him.  And that’s why he respects her and wants to be around her.
DP: She’s alone in a bar, which his kind of interesting.
RW: I think she’s happy there; she’s popular in that environment with the boys. I got a sense that my character was from a cop background, the family was in the industry, there was no choice really but for her to go into it. She’s had to fight her way to get to where she is. She’s got a really tough shell, and she’s learned the male banter as well–she’s had to speak in that language in order to survive.
Q: Did you talk about Jo with Scott?
RW: Yeah. Where’d she come from, how is she in this environment–is it through her family?  What’s her relationship with Matt? What happened with him before–anything sexual?  He said, “No, I don’t think so.” He looks out for Jo, she’s his family in a way.
DP: Having read the script, were you and Scott on the save wavelength, or did you say, they definitely had sex and he said the definitely didn’t?
RW: I’m sure they’ve had something in the past, and maybe she not really married, she’s just lying that she is to protect herself.
DP: Your character was originally a guy, so what difference did it make changing it form Joe to Jo?
RW: I think you need a woman in this piece.  It’s incredibly male-dominated, it’s violent, women are getting abused and destroyed. There’s a lot of that in this thriller genre, and it’s good to have a female role in it that represents the other side, actually, the tough woman, the strong woman in that environment. What I think is interesting about changing it to a woman is that she’s had to get through a lot to get to this point in her life, and be that successful in her career. And she makes Matt more 3-dimensional in that he can have this relationship with this woman he’s intrigued by and is also put on the spot by. I think she makes Liam’s character a lot of more interesting.
DP: Jo doesn’t answer Matt when he asks if she’s really married. I think she’s really married, but I’m not sure.
RW: When I first read the script, I asked Scott, “Is she really married?” And he said, “I think so.” It was like maybe, maybe not. If you leave that hanging, no one knows. You should infer what they want from it. I think she is married, She has made that choice. But I quite like the idea of her still being single, because I can’t really imagine her at home with her kids. If she is married her husband must be someone who would have probably known Matt Scudder as well, when he was a cop.  But you never see her husband and there is never a reference to a family–I think that’s often what the police are like, but I still think it could be that she’s lying there!
DP: When Matt asks the married Jo, “Are you happy?,” she replies, “On occasion.” What is she thinking when she says this?
RW: Part of it is: it could’ve been you. I wanted Joe to make Matt feel he’s put on the spot, more than make it so that she’s made the wrong choice in her life. I wanted to make it more of a “I don’t know, what do you think, Matt?” kind of thing. She’s always antagonistic with him, it’s never  I’ll give you my weakness and open myself up to you. It’s always I’m going to fight you.
DP: They’re a potential couple who’ve never had the right timing.
RW: It’s something like that. He was off the rails, it was never going to work out. But there’s always a connection between them, they really enjoy each other’s company and as I said, they understand each other. I think that never goes away. With that chemistry there will always be potential.
DP: Do you have any action scenes?
RW: I would have liked to shoot a gun, but I don’t have any action scenes.  I just have all those talky scenes where I’m speaking all the time.
DP: Since you came late to the project, did you get to do any research for your part?
RW: Yeah, I met with a female detective from Queens.  It was really interesting because she discussed what it’s like to be a woman in that environment and what it’s like to see these things every day and deal with drugs and violence and death. She was saying, “You can really only last in that business for twenty years because you get downed by what you see.”  It’s kind of like how bruised people need to put on a shell for protection, because they’re constantly seeing things people shouldn’t have to see, and dealing with those images. It’s how you define yourself. That’s who you are. There’s nothing else, that’s what you become.
DP: Is there a point doing a role like this that you say, I have to stop researching?
RW: Yeah, it becomes unhelpful after a while. It’s important for us to just tell the story and do those scenes with Liam as written rather than having us become this odd couple who’s not really adhering to the script.  I think you’ve got to do research and then use that for the scenes that exist.
DP: Yes, Jo has only four scenes, but if  what should her fifth scene be?
RW: We were saying that we’d like to a film a scene of  Jo and Matt together on the beat. I think it would be quite fun to see them younger  at a time before this all happens.
DP: Where does this fit into your career?
RW: This is about being in New York, working with Liam, and doing a modern thriller. And working with Scott, of course.  I respond a lot to the director because they bring depth and detail to the script–and in this case, Scott was the writer, too. It was important to do something like this and challenge myself. Take a small role and see what I can do with it.

Evangeline Lilly on "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies"

Playing in Theaters

Evangeline Lilly on The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

(from Sag Harbor Express Online 1/19/25)


TheHobbitBattleofposter
By Danny Peary
THE HOBBIT: THE DESOLATION OF SMAUG
Back in the long-ago days before movie trilogies meant three films, Evangeline Lilly became a huge television star in Lost as the clever, sexy, and gutsy Kate, who two male rivals voted “Coolest Female to Be Stranded on an Island With.”  Now she’s establishing herself as an action movie star as the formidable wood elf Tauriel in Peter Jackson’s two-part final chapter of The Hobbit, and the upcoming Ant-Man. The “defining” third film in Jackson’s trilogy, The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies had its top box-office spot taken by Taken, but it is still attracting large audiences in many Long Island theaters, including in Hampton Bays, and in New York City.  So I am posting this one-on-one with Lilly that I did for the Australian magazine FilmInk prior to its release.  For those who ask, “What’s Evangeline Lilly really like?,” my answer is, She couldn’t have been nicer.
Danny Peary: I know that you read J.R.R. Tolkien when you were 13 or 14. Back then it was almost only males who picked up Tolkien.
Evangeline Lilly: It was because of my dad. My dad had The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings in a box set, which I still have at home, from when he was a boy, and he’d read it in the 1960s. I was a reluctant reader as a kid, I didn’t really like reading, but certain odd-looking books would appeal to me.  It was always the ones that looked dark, that looked like there was something off. And the cover on dad’s book was the illustration that Tolkien drew of Smaug sitting on his pile of gold with a tiny little Bilbo in front of him. The combination of the black and red and the way they would write J.R.R. Tolkien to look like Elvish writing had an air of mystique that intrigued me.
DP: The other thing I know about your youth in Canada is that you played soccer.  There weren’t a lot of girls playing soccer at the time.
EL: I was responsible for starting the first girls’ soccer team at my high school, with my math teacher.  He was male and was originally from Latin America, so of course he loved football.
DP: Were you an active kid?
EL: Once I reached a certain age. I was very lethargic and very quiet and very passive as a little girl. And then strangely–even my family marvels at this now–when I reached about eight or nine years old, I went out and was playing soccer with the boys at lunch and I just happened to realize, as I did in the couple of years before from playing tag,  that I was really fast.  My speed was a new factor for me.  I started playing soccer and that brought out a more aggressive tomboyish side that I didn’t know existed inside of me, and then I started getting really excited by the notion that I could compete with the boys.
DP: When did you first consider yourself an actress?
EL (laughing): I still don’t. To be honest. I never wanted to be an actor.  I stumbled into the job.  The way I became an actor initially was because I was scouted on the street. And I’ve been scouted probably half a dozen times, and I constantly say, no, this is not all there is, I’m an intelligent person, I don’t need to be a model, I don’t need to earn my living by looking pretty, I can do a hell of a lot more than that. But I think that is getting better and better every year. I think that women are being less and less pigeonholed every where, especially beautiful women. We’ve seen enough of them branch out in intelligent ways that they’ve paved the way, I think.   I have been fortunate enough to keep working but I continue to look at other people out there and say, now that’s an actorthat’s truly a professional thespian. Like Cate Blanchett, who is clearly on a whole other level from most human beings, Robert Downey Jr. is a consummate professional, Johnny Depp. There are people who can embody another human being to the degree that, despite their level of fame, you get lost in their characters. And there are other actors out there who of course will remain nameless who have reached such heights of fame that I can’t get past them and get lost in their characters when I watch a movie. It’s so-and-so playing a role, it’s not the role.
DP: It is a pleasure meeting you because I saw every Lost episode and you were part of my life for so many years.
EL: Thank you.  That means a lot to me.  That was my life for so many years also.
DP: As a TV fanatic since I was a kid, I often think about great casting when someone nobody heard of is cast and is perfect for a part.  That how I thought of you on Lost.  How did they come up with you to play Kate from out of nowhere?
EL: It really was out of nowhere. J.J. Abrams is brilliant, and I speak from observing the other people that he’s cast.. He’s responsible for discovering Bradley Cooper, Kerri Russell for Felicity, Jennifer Garner.
DP: And you. Did you realize that was great casting from your end, that this was a perfect part for you?
EL: I think that I knew.  I knew that it was risky casting, because I’d never done anything and I wasn’t trained so poor J.J. had to deal with a girl who was very inexperienced and didn’t have tricks and tools to use. But what I could recognize was that I was so much like Kate in real life. There were so many parallels between myself and Kate Austen. J.J. is a perceptive human being, and I think he can sense people’s characters when he meets them even for a moment, and he perceived in me that there was something about my spirit and my character that was like hers. And over the years as they were building Kate she was influenced by the writers getting to know me.
DP: She’s very loyal and she has that indomitable spirit and is funny. Is that what you’re talking about?
EL: I think about these things. She was really very independent and very scared to commit and be still, and I had a lot of that; and actually Lost was a particular challenge for me because I had to stay in the same place, on a small island, in the same job, with the same people for six years. I’d never done that before ever in my life.  I went to five different elementary schools, I moved around a lot, I was a restless soul.  I came from a progressive place, Vancouver, a was a very forward-thinking, aggressively liberal female. Kate had that in her.  She had an “I can do whatever a guy can do” attitude, which is the attitude I came into the shooting process with at 24 years old.
DP: I was leading from your casting in Lost to Peter Jackson’s picking you for The Hobbit when he could have picked any actress in the world. Was this the right part for you, too?
EL: I think so. I dreamed about being an elf for years as a child. So not only did I already love elves and understand what it meant to be an elf before I was cast, but also I had a penchant for strong female characters and they wanted Tauriel to be the warrior. That’s something Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens had been dreaming of. Even when they were working on Lord of Rings twenty years ago, they were dreaming of creating a female warrior elf. What they said to me was that they wanted her to be strong, they wanted her to be a warrior, but they wanted her to also be vulnerable and relatable. And they felt that was something I knew how to do.
DP: Compete with men is what you have do in some of your roles, is that right?
EL: In a way I do.  And the grace of being in these male-dominated films that I tend to choose to be in is that I’m not competing with anyone for attention because I’m the only female. So I get the best of what there is for the women. Physically and mentally, Tauriel has it the best but she has had to compete with other elves to reach the level that she’s at.
DP: She’s the head of the guards, but no one points out she’s a woman.  Her gender is just accepted, right?
EL: She’s accepted. And I think that calls to Tolkien’s vision of that world, where women are equally as powerful and revered as men, there is no gender bias.
DP: The character’s always thinking, it’s kind of a survival instinct.
EL: And I suffer from that–insomnia–because I can’t shut off my brain.
DP: Let me read a quote of yours: “Tauriel is slightly reckless and totally ruthless and doesn’t hesitate to kill.”  Is she “totally ruthless?”  I don’t see her that way.
EL: First of all, sound-bites are often used as sales techniques, so it sounds cool to have a gal say that. When you have a film that hasn’t come out yet what you say isn’t always totally accurate to the character. But I do think that she is ruthless at moments, and what I feel happens inside of her when she witnesses injustice is that a righteous anger burns so bright in her that she can be slightly reckless, she can make impulsive decisions or take  actions that otherwise she might not have. For example when they’re questioning the orc that they capture and trying to get information out of him about what’s going on and why his orc pack is on the move and why they’re chasing these dwarves, she wants to take his head off. That’s a somewhat reckless and ruthless moment for her, because the level-headed and wise thing to do is to question him for as long as it takes and get as much information out of him as possible.  But she’s so angry and so impassioned by the fact that they’ve not only slaughtered innocent creatures but also have invaded her home, which is sacred to her.  It’s never addressed in the films, but her parents died at the hands of orcs.
DP: So a female character is brought in and now there is a male/female dynamic. Peter Jackson doesn’t really have a lot of that in his movies. Was there a difference on the set when he directed intimate scenes and when he dircted action scenes?
EL: Oh yeah.  He loves the action, the blood and the guts and gore.  He got to be like a kid in a candy shop. But when it came to the more intimate scenes, he brought in his female back-ups, his two writers.  Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens show up on set and now suddenly you’re being directed by two or three people. He was like, “I don’t know what to do with these scenes!” He leaves the mushy stuff to the women.
DP: Your character in The Hobbit is 600 years old. Does she want to have a kid yet?
EL: She’s so young! She’s just a baby.
DP: Is that an issue, though, for your creating that character? Does she want to get married and have a kid or does she want to stay a warrior? Which isn’t mutually exclusive, you can do both…
EL: Among the things we talked about on-set with Peter was: what is the elf notion of romance and love, and does it exist in the way it does for human beings?  And do they procreate, and how do they procreate? And what does an elven baby look like? I was reading The Silmarillion when I was working on the film, and my perception of Tolkien’s view on elves and the way he created them was that elves were created in the beginning of time in different stages of growth and development. But I don’t know that they procreate. I’ve never read or heard or seen anything about an elven baby.
DP: Maybe for 200 years you’ll be carrying around a baby that doesn’t get older.
EL (laughing): It’s all a great big mystery to me.
DP: Last year I talked to Lee Pace about immortality because he plays a vampire in Twilight and an elf king The Hobbit.  Did you ever think about playing an immortal? Is that important to your character?  She’s immortal, so is life more precious? Or less precious?
EL: I threw out the idea of her being immortal, I just threw it out. I wanted my character to be relatable, I wanted her to embody the essence of youth, and I think all young people feel invincible. I think there isn’t a young person out there who has a proper sense of their own mortality. And so I just put the whole notion that I was immortal aside, and played the character without thinking about that.
DP: She can live forever, but she can be killed in battle, that’s what the king doesn’t want.
EL: Because he’s lived through so many eons his immortality has a profound effect on his character.  Thranduil has to embody all of that experience. My character is only 600 years old, which sounds really old but in the elf world really isn’t. She hasn’t seen that much or experienced that much and I didn’t want to be playing beyond my years, so to speak.
DP: I read that you’d stipulate you’d not be in this movie if there was a love triangle, as in Lost.  But there is.
EL:  I didn’t want to play a love triangle, I’d done it for six years and it was always one of the aspects of Kate that I found less admirable. In this film it ended up needing it. We shot the whole principle photography without any love triangle, and when we were finished, the studio notes that came back were saying, “I’m totally confused. We don’t really get what’s going on with these characters.”  And when we were shooting, I felt confused, too.  It just hadn’t been made clear enough because when you have only a finite amount of time onscreen to tell a story, subtle and delicate human ambiguity doesn’t read. You have to amplify, magnify to get them across. That’s what happened with the love triangle, we had to amplify subtle things and make them bigger.
DP: How does love affect Tauriel? Is she thrown off by her feelings for the dwarf?
EL: I think she’s thrown off by them. It continues to surprise her, throughout both films.  She doesn’t expect to ever be thrown off by anything. So she is thrown off by it.
DP: What happens in this movie in regard to her understanding romance?
EL: It ends up dictating so much of my character’s arc in the third film.  It drives all of her decisions.  There’s always something driving the plot and for my character in the third film there is this confusion over emotion. She starts the film in her youth, being so sure of herself, she knows what’s right she knows what’s wrong and she’s going to fight for the right things, and she starts to just get confused.  And I’ve been through that. I love showing that on the screen, because sometimes I think that if could have my fifteen-year-old mind I could rule the world. I was so sure of myself twenty years ago, and now every time I come up against a big issue or a big decision, so much of me has enough life experience to know to doubt myself. And that’s what starts to happen with Tauriel. It’s basically a kind of coming-of-age film for her.
DP: You’re writing and doing charity work and protesting global warming, so it was a big decision to disappear from the world for a year and go to New Zealand to make the movie?  Especially since you aren’t even an actress!
EL (laughing): The hardest decision about that was to go back to work when my son was three months world. I thought I’d be disappearing from the world but in a whole different way, I thought I would be holed up in a quiet little bungalow in Hawaii being a mama and writing. I got to do that eventually–once we finished filming The Hobbit I spent two years just working on my writing [including on her children’s book The Squickerwonkers, which came out in late 2014] and being a mom and it was blissful. I had to go out and promote The Hobbit last year, and I’ve done some work like that, but truly it was two years when I wasn’t on a film set. So those respites I hope will come to characterize my career. In an ideal world, I hope to do a film and then slip away and work on my books. For me, that’s sanity and that’s joy. I don’t want to jump from movie to movie.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Joseph McBride to Appear at Fabulous Orson Welles Tribute at Film Forum

Playing at Film Forum

Joseph McBride to Appear at Fabulous Orson Welles Tribute at Film Forum

(from Sag Harbor Express Online 1/11/15)



I hope all movie fans are aware of the extraordinary retrospective, "Orson Welles 100," that began at the Film Forum on January 1 and concludes Tuesday February 3.  Every theatrical feature Welles directed will be screened, some in different versions. We can see reconstructed versions of various films and several newly restored prints. There will even be a presentation of Too Much Johnson on Monday February 2, which will combine a reading of William Gillette's 1894 play by the "Film Forum Players" and recently discovered rough-cut footage Welles shot in 1938  (three years before the release of Citizen Kane) to be used (it never happened) in conjunction with his Mercury Theatre's adaptation of Gillette's farce.  Additionally, there will be films helmed by other directors featuring Welles the actor.  Credit for this one-of-a-kind Welles showcase goes to programmer Bruce Goldstein and series consultant Joseph McBride, the foremost Welles expert in the world.  Certainly a highlight of the five-week series will be McBride's appearances four days this week.  On Wednesday January 14 at 7 pm, he will introduce the 108-minute prerelease "Preview version"  of Touch of Evil and discuss all three versions of Welles' masterpiece that are showing in this series. On Thursday at 7:10 and Saturday at 2:45, he will present "Wellesiana," which is fascinating program of Welles rarities, including the short he made at 19, The Hearts of Age, rushes, trailers, and TV appearances.  On Friday at 7:10, he will present the "Scottish" version of Macbeth--did you even know it existed?  Not to be missed is a 5:15 Saturday screening of the 1942 studio-edited release version of The Magnificent Ambersons, after which McBride will compare it to the unofficial 1993 Roger Ryan "reconstruction" and the missing-in action Welles cut, the intrepid critic's "holy grail."  Throughout the series, Joseph McBride's book, What Ever Happened to Orson Welles?, will be on sale at the concession stand. 
I will be excited to be at the Wednesday evening event for two reasons. First, Touch of Evil is a personal favorite (which I included in my new--shameless plug--eBook, Cult Crime Movies), which I have seen countless times but never in this version.  Second, though we have had contact through the years, I will be seeing my friend Joseph McBride in person for the first time in forty-five years. Joe and I both attended the University of Wisconsin-Madison in the sixties and were part of an incredible film community on campus that turned out numerous film critics, film historians, and filmmakers.  Indeed, I saw so many great movies for the first time at screenings of the Wisconsin Film Society, which Joe ran. I am eternally indebted.  I admit to being a bit in awe of him because at the time I was getting (unjustly) B minuses on my film papers, my fellow student was actually getting erudite film books published!  It was obvious to everyone that he was headed for a tremendous career as a writer and scholar.  Sure enough, he went on to write seventeen books (and counting), including acclaimed biographies on Welles, John Ford, Frank Capra, and Steven Spielberg and an interview book with Howard Hawks--as well as his mind-blowing nonmovie tome, Into the Nightmare: My Search for the Killers of President John F. Kennedy and Officer J. D. Tippit. His scriptwriting credits include cult movies Rock 'n' Roll High School and Blood and Guts and American Film Institute Life Achievement Award specials on Capra, Fred Astaire,  Lillian Gish, John Huston, and James Stewart. He received the Writers Guild of America Award for cowriting AFI's Salute to John Huston with producer George Stevens, Jr., and also has received four other WGA nominations and two Emmy nominations.  In the 1970s, he played a film critic in Welles' still-unfinished The Other Side of the Wind.  He is the subject of Hart Perez's 2011 documentary Behind the Curtain: Joseph McBride on Writing Film History. McBride, who teaches film at San Francisco State, resides in Berkeley, so I conducted the following Q&A with him about Orson Welles and his upcoming appearances at the Film Forum via email.  It's long but worth a look. In our 48-year acquaintance, it is the first time I ever interviewed him.
Danny Peary: Did you discover Orson Welles as a kid in Milwaukee by seeing a film or several of his films on television or in the theater?
Joseph McBride: No, I was a film buff from childhood but saw mostly new films then and didn’t see a Welles film until I went to the University of Wisconsin, Madison (where I met you and your brother Gerry). It was on September 22, 1966, in Professor Richard Byrne’s film class (one of the few film classes we had at UW), that I first saw Citizen Kane. It changed my life. Until then I was an English major planning to be a journalist and write novels. After that I wanted to devote my life to studying and writing about films and to making them. It led me to be a screenwriter, author of film books (including three on Welles), and film teacher. Shortly after that classroom screening, serendipitously, the Memorial Union had a mini-Welles retrospective. I saw such films as The Magnificent Ambersons and Touch of Evil and realized that there was much more to Welles than Kane. I couldn’t find a good book on Welles in English to read, so I began writing my first book on him, which took four years to write and was published in 1972 by the British Film Institute in its Cinema One series as Orson Welles.
DP: Didn’t you update it?
JM: I updated and expanded it by 30,000 words in 1996. I recently reacquired the rights and will do another edition, but I think I will wait until The Other Side of the Wind is released, unless that is delayed further.
DP: I was eighteen when I met you and you were twenty and by that time you were obsessed with and incredibly knowledgeable about film.  How much of that was due to Welles?
JM: As Jean-Luc Godard once wrote, “May we be accursed if we ever forget for one second that he alone with Griffith--one in silent days, one sound--was able to start up that marvelous little electric train. All of us, always, will owe him everything.” My scholarship on Welles led to my entire career as a film historian and critic. I soon discovered John Ford and began writing about him as well. When I learned that Ford was Welles’s favorite director, it all seemed fitting. Ford has long been my favorite--I think he’s the greatest of all filmmakers--but Welles always has that special place in my heart.
DP: Looking back, why do you think you, coming from Milwaukee, became so enamored by Welles?  It couldn’t have been because he was from Wisconsin too, right?
JM: Actually, it was partly because he was from Wisconsin. When I learned that, soon after seeing Kane, that also seemed fitting. I was trying to move into the wider world, and I was pleased that such a genius had come from what I then viewed as our somewhat backward state. I’ve since come to realize I was being patronizing about Wisconsin, from which so many great people have emerged. But we do have to emerge. As Lenny Bruce put it, “Milwaukee is the kind of town where cab drivers ask you where to get laid.”
Madison is a more sophisticated place. In those days we had thirty-five film societies (including the Wisconsin Film Society, which I ran so I could show the films I wanted to see) and tremendous political ferment, which also furthered my education greatly. I wrote most of Orson Welles in a student rooming house a couple of blocks from the public school Welles had attended when he lived in town for a year at the age of ten. Only many years later did I learn that he had lived in an apartment just up the street and around the corner from where I wrote the book. These “coincidences” helped galvanize my interest in Welles, and The Magnificent Ambersons is my favorite film in part because it so profoundly captures the spirit and tragedy of life in the Midwest. The film is so personal to Welles, such a loving but clear-eyed recreation of the time just before his birth.
DP: Did the fact that Welles was so young when he burst onto the movie scene with Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons impact you because you were young?
JM: Yes, indeed, I also wanted, rashly, to make my first feature film by the time I was twenty-five. When I told Welles that in 1970, I was twenty-three. He kindly said, “You will.” I was making Super 8 shorts and writing scripts at the time, using the Welles-Herman J. Mankiewicz script of Kane and a 16mm print of the film as my Bible (I found the script at the Wisconsin Historical Society and spent a month typing an exact copy, since I couldn’t afford to Xerox it). I didn’t sell my first screenplay until 1976, though. There’s only one Orson Welles, but as François Truffaut noted, Kane “consecrated a great many of us to the vocation of cinéaste.”
DP: When I met you, you were equally a John Ford fanatic and expert.  If I said, Welles and Ford have nothing in common, what would be your response?
JM: I think that’s wrong. Both were intensely nostalgic and critical of American history, for starters. They mourn a lost Eden that they know didn’t actually exist. Truffaut said Welles made two kinds of films: The ones he made with his left hand have guns in them, and the ones he made with his right hand always have snow. The snow films, such as Kane, Ambersons and Chimes at Midnight, are the most Fordian. Welles was asked what directors he most admired, and he said, “The old masters. By which I mean John Ford, John Ford, and John Ford.”
DP: Did they cross paths often in Hollywood?
JM: They had a sort of artistic kinship from the beginning. Ford came to the set of Kane to wish him well and to warn him against his assistant director, Eddie Donahue, who was a front-office spy. Welles arrived in a stagecoach at the wrap party, which had a Western theme to honor Ford (Welles famously had studied the filmmaking craft before making Kane by screening Stagecoach over and over). Ford later wanted Welles to play Mayor Skeffington in The Last Hurrah, but the Red-baiting Ward Bond interfered with Columbia Pictures and evidently discouraged them from letting Ford cast Welles (Ford was furious at Bond; Welles thought, or said he thought, that his agent had bungled the deal). Early in Welles’s time in Hollywood, Ford and his pals, including John Wayne, sent Welles a makeshift cardboard certificate festooned with beer-bottle labels that said simply, “Orson Welles has been elected.” Welles said it was the only award he ever kept on his office wall, until someone stole it. I’m not sure how much time Welles spent with Ford; probably not a lot, especially if Bond was around. But Welles pumped Ford collaborators such as Gregg Toland and Tim Holt at great length about the master’s working methods and learned much from Ford, such as how to avoid closeups and to stage scenes in long uninterrupted takes. I believe Ambersons, for example, shows the influence of How Green Was My Valley, which opened the same day Welles’s film began shooting. But Welles moves his camera much of the time, and Ford rarely moves his. You don’t have to be identical with your master to learn from him.
DP: In Sight & Sound’s last critics’ poll, Vertigo replaced Citizen Kane as the greatest movie ever made. I think Vertigo, for all its virtues, is about Hitchcock’s tenth best film, so I wasn’t pleased.  I’m not sure you think Citizen Kane is Welles’s best film, but what was your reaction to the poll?
JM: Polls are somewhat frivolous, but they at least stimulate discussion, and I was glad to be asked anyway. I felt somewhat guilty not putting Kane in my top ten, but Welles is the only director who has two films on my list--Ambersons and Chimes. I love Vertigo too and wrote and coproduced the documentary Obsessed with “Vertigo”: New Life for Hitchcock’s Masterpiece. But among Hitchcock films, I probably prefer Psycho and Marnie. Nevertheless, I think it’s idle to rank films of that level of quality, as polls compel us to do. And I would add that I believe we have David Thomson to blame for Kane being displaced from the top spot, since he had written a Sight & Sound piece urging people to do just that. Thomson wrote perhaps the worst book on Welles, the grossly underresearched, sloppy biography Rosebud, in which says he hopes The Other Side of the Wind never comes out, so he was somewhat biased. But then I didn’t put Kane on my Sight & Sound list, so you can blame me too. I think I wore out Kane after watching it more than a hundred times. I know every shot and every line before they appear onscreen, which spoils it for me to a large extent, unfortunately. I loved it too much.
DP: When I first met you in 1967 and still when you wrote the book Orson Welles that was first published in 1972, I already believed you were the top expert on Welles.  Looking back, do you think there was still a lot for you to learn about him and his films?  Have your views changed in major ways regarding his directing, his acting, particular movies, or Welles himself?
JM: Yes, Welles scholarship was still in its formative phase back when I began. I’ve written two more books on him since then as well as updating my first one. In the process, I have learned a lot more about him thanks to my endless research and the fine work of many other researchers. He has many more facets than I could have dreamed of at the time. He keeps surprising us with new dimensions and new discoveries, not only in film but also in radio and theater and television and print and other media. I have seen much more of his work (including the unfinished work) than I was able to see when I wrote my first book. And his career is not over, since he left a number of unfinished films for his admirers to complete, perhaps partly by intention to keep us working for him (we members of the cast and crew of Other Wind called ourselves members of VISTOW, or “Volunteers in Service to Orson Welles”).
I spent decades trying to make a deal to complete Other Wind, and Gary Graver (the film’s cinematographer) and I made one with Showtime in 1999 for $3 million, and then I was fired from the project by Oja Kodar and Peter Bogdanovich, who thought they didn’t need me. I didn’t make a fuss because I didn’t want to hurt the film, but I washed my hands of any more direct involvement with it. The project then immediately collapsed. If I had remained part of it, it would have been out by about 2004. I have answered questions and helped the current producers of the film with whatever advice and encouragement I can. And then there is Don Quixote waiting to be finished properly . . . no one has stepped up to the plate. Jonathan Rosenbaum, who has probably seen more of the Quixote footage than anyone else, told me he thinks that is the great unfinished Welles film. One of my remaining projects is to do what I can to search for the complete print of Ambersons that Welles may have left in Brazil. It’s a long shot, but who would have thought his unfinished 1938 film Too Much Johnson would have turned up in Italy?
DP: Can you briefly tell of your involvement with The Other Side of the Wind, including your getting to meet Orson Welles?
JM: It was a Walter Mitty experience. I went to Hollywood in 1970 to interview Ford, and I looked up Bogdanovich. When I called him, he said he was “on the other line with Orson.” I was almost finished writing my book on Welles and had no idea he was in the States; he always seemed to be Somewhere in Europe when I was writing it. Peter said Welles wanted me to call him. When I did, he said, “We’re about to start shooting a new film--would you like to be in it?” Since I had never acted before, all I could think of was a stupid question, “Is this going to be a feature-length film?” He laughed and said, “We certainly hope so.” Actually, my question wasn’t that stupid, since it’s still not a feature-length film. He cast me partly because he appreciated my published articles on his work that I was excerpting from the book. And partly because Bogdanovich recommended me as a funny young film buff type. After I spent an afternoon talking with Welles about all kinds of subjects, I was before his cameras, playing a spoof of myself and helping Welles write my own dialogue. I kept doing that for the next six years. The Other Side of the Wind was my film school.
Joseph McBride and Orson Welles, 1978
 
DP: What kind of relationship did you have with Welles after meeting him on that film?
JM: I allowed myself to be putty in his hands. In any case, after we wrote the dialogue I had to speak, he was dictatorial about exactly how I moved and spoke. He would often say, “It’s terrible when a director gives line readings, but --,” and give me a line reading. I was pleased, because he was teaching me. But he bullied me a lot to keep me in an intimidated mood to fit the character. After about four years into the shooting, one of the crew told me that at rushes, Welles had said, “Joe looks good up there onscreen. But then he always looks good onscreen.” So I instantly relaxed and enjoyed myself for the next two years. Our relationship was always friendly but a bit prickly on occasion since I didn’t hesitate to disagree with him. He was irked when we had some political disagreements the day we met--he didn’t like it when I criticized Lyndon Johnson over the Vietnam War and when I also said the antiwar protesters in Madison were getting crazy and were about to kill someone, which they did just two days later.  So I think he always felt somewhat on guard with me. But he often called me over to explain what he was doing. I think one reason he put me on the set was that he wanted a historian there who would report accurately what he was doing.
DP: I know that in your writing you at times contradicted what Welles said about his own films.  Did you ever teach Welles anything about his own films that he had never thought of? Would he argue with you? 
JM: I am not sure if I taught him anything about himself; he was one of the most self-aware of artists. We did have differences of opinion on some of his films. One time during the making of Other Wind, I heard Welles say loudly from another room, “Joe would like Christopher Plummer. He doesn’t like my Shakespearean performances either.” I hastened to Welles’s side and reminded him that I thought his Falstaff in Chimes at Midnight was his greatest performance and that I also thought he was good as Macbeth, but that he was miscast as Othello. That didn’t seem to mollify Welles. He didn’t try to argue these points with me, though. He was thin-skinned about criticism, as most directors are, but I think he ultimately, if grudgingly, respected the fact that I wasn’t a sycophant and didn’t simply praise his work but had complex opinions about it and drew distinctions.
DP: What Welles character would Welles have most enjoyed spending an evening dining with as friends?  My wild guess would be Harry Lime in The Third Man, directed not by Welles but Carol Reed—maybe the prewar Lime, before he went bad? Was Lime integral to Welles?
JM: As odious as Lime is, Welles no doubt would have found it fascinating to spend time with such a character.  His films show that tendency. But Harry Lime was actually the character Welles played that he despised the most. He considered Lime the most evil character he played. After all, Lime profits from selling diluted black-market penicillin that kills people, including children, and he has no compunction about it. It was ironic that Welles became identified with that character to the point that when he would enter restaurants, the orchestra would strike up the “Harry Lime Theme.” And he played Lime again in the British radio series that downplayed Lime’s villainy and played up his charm. So what other character would Welles have wanted to dine with? He most identified with and loved Sir John Falstaff in Chimes at Midnight. Welles considered him the most completely good man in all drama. Falstaff of course would have been a great dining and drinking companion as well! But I also have a sneaking suspicion Welles would have found much to enjoy having dinner with Charlie Kane. He played him as more charming than he is in the script. Asked why, he said he found out more about the character as he played him.
DP: I think Welles movies are about flawed men, betrayal, bad choices, hubris, and failure. Do you consider these essential to Welles?  And what have I foolishly left out?
JM: Yes, those are key themes in his work. He would say they are key themes in all serious drama--as he did when a French interviewer noted that each of his films is a story of a failure with a death in it. I would add that a constant theme of Welles’s work is the intense friendship between two men, one of whom ends up betraying the other. This can be traced back to Welles’s feeling that he betrayed his father, by abandoning him when he was drinking himself to death; Welles actually believed he had killed his father. And perhaps this theme stems from Welles’s feeling that his mother and father betrayed him by dying in his youth. There is a homoerotic element to the male relationships in Welles’s films that is one of the two great taboos in Welles criticism. The other you’re not supposed to acknowledge is that he was blacklisted. I discuss both of those topics in my 2006 book What Ever Happened to Orson Welles?: A Portrait of an Independent Career, and drew some of the expected flak for doing so, but I am glad to have broken the taboos.
DP: If you asked Welles if he was proud of his movies, what would his honest answer be?
JM: Welles was always dissatisfied with his work and would still be reediting all his films now if he had the chance. But he knew his worth. He would say such things as, “In moving the actors in relation to the camera, I believe I have no peer.” He was proudest of Chimes at Midnight. It expresses his worldview most fully, and there is little distance between him and Falstaff. It’s such a profound and beautiful and haunting film. Ambersons probably would be his greatest film if we still had all of it. He said it was much better than Kane before RKO started hacking it up.
DP: If you asked Welles if he was happy with his film career, what would his honest answer be?
JM: He said on numerous occasions late in life that he should have left the film business, which treated him so badly, but that he fell in love with movies, the most expensive mistress a man can have, and couldn’t leave her. His first wife, Virginia Nicolson, advised him not to go to Hollywood and stay in the theater instead. Their daughter, Chris Welles Feder, told me he acknowledged late in life that Virginia was right. He would have been happier in the theater and would have had an easier time of it (his Mercury stage production of Julius Caesar cost only $12,000 to mount). But then we would not have all those great movies.
DP: Was he pleased that you, Peter Bogdanovich, and most film critics of the sixties and seventies and film historians revered him, or did he humbly—the wrong word for Welles?--think he didn’t deserve such acclaim?
JM: I don’t know how humble he was, and he actually was to some extent, but Welles was once accused of being vain. He said precisely, “I am conceited--I am not vain.” He said once that since he didn’t command the popular audience that Doris Day pictures did, he needed serious film magazines such as Sight & Sound to keep him viable. So he appreciated what Peter and I and others wrote about him. But I believe that need caused him to resent us critics as well. He shouldn’t have had to depend on us to the extent he did. That’s one reason he takes out against us in The Other Side of the Wind. I was aware of that when we colluded in satirizing the foolishly earnest young critic I was playing. I sympathized with his point of view and shared his sense of the absurdity of the situation, that a Mister Pister could be important to the career of a Jake Hannaford (the legendary director played by John Huston). But in fact, critics and historians are important to careers and to analyzing and to some extent judging them; we just have to avoid being too self-important about it.
DP: Was he slightly embarrassed that “Rosebud” caused such a reaction in the film world? Or was the devilish magician pleased?
JM: He thought “Rosebud” was the weakest element in the film. That’s why he wrote that line in which the reporter says, “I don’t think any word can explain a man’s life.” But it is thrilling when the camera then leaves the reporter and reveals Rosebud. It explains parts of Kane, but far from everything. Jonathan Rosenbaum has said, and I agree, that Kane is about the impossibility of completely defining a human being. Welles tried to put as much of that into Kane as he could, but felt somewhat stymied by the “Rosebud” theatrical gimmick, as he considered it, and by people seizing on it to think they understood Charles Foster Kane once they knew he had been deprived of his childhood sled. And yet his loss of his childhood, his Eden, is critical. His mother actually sells him to a bank (one of the film’s profound mysteries). That means a great deal in the scheme of things.
DP: In my chapter on Citizen Kane in my 1981 book Cult Movies I contended that Kane remembers “Rosebud” so strongly not because he wishes for a return to his idyllic youth as most critics profess—because he was not happy then—but because the sled was his one possession before he had the money to buy everything (and everyone) and lost the capability to grow up to become a great man. This interpretation doesn’t contradict anything you said but I don’t think anyone else has ever written this. What do you think?
JM: Your observation about the sled is a good insight. I hadn't looked at it in quite that way before. The sled means more than one thing. I think in its largest sense it is a clear symbol of all he has lost. He may not have had a happy childhood in Colorado (that's an excellent point—there is the implication his father beats him, and his mother is severe, though anguished--why she sells him to a bank is somewhat mysterious), and Welles mourned Lost Edens while still recognizing they are imperfect. But I would not necessarily say the sled is his only or even Number One possession, since we see the glass ball on a table behind his mother in a slight panning movement at the exact moment when she signs him away. This is of course mysterious, since it turns up in Susie's apartment where she lives when Kane meets her in New York and later at his Florida castle, Xanadu.  It's another symbol, and it pops up as if by magic. We don't literally have to think he carried it from Colorado to Xanadu, but it links him emotionally/thematically with his mother (like the stuff he keeps at the warehouse and/or moves to Xanadu, including the sled). Very few viewers even notice the ball in Colorado, or in New York. It took me multiple viewings to spot it in those scenes, though in New York it's more visible since it's in the foreground (our view is directed into the background through a mirror, though, so the magician is using indirection). The film does say a lot about possessions not equaling happiness, but this possession is a vestige of happiness.
DP: Tell me about the Welles documentaries you have been in. And did you always feel you should have been the director?
JM: I ask Welles a question in his 1981 documentary Filming “The Trial,” which he didn’t complete but has been assembled by the Munich Film Museum. It’s a fascinating ninety-minute discussion about the film and other topics with an audience at the University of Southern California. He blows off my question about whether he dubs eleven voices in the film to demonstrate his ubiquity. I am also in several recent documentaries on Welles as a pundit or talking head or witness. I did a forty-five-minute interview with Robert Fischer, Perspectives on “Othello”: Joseph McBride on Orson Welles, which was released in the Fall of 2014 with the French Blu-ray edition of that film. I am in Chuck Workman’s blitzkreig-style feature documentary Magician and French documentaries by Clara and Julia Kuperberg and by Elisabeth Kapnist. No, I didn’t wish I were the director. I am happy to sit and be interviewed. Directors have to get up at five in the morning. Being a writer means you can sleep in and work late and work in your bathrobe. And being a talking head means you can set your own schedule. Little did I know all that when I foolishly wanted to be a director in what Welles would call my “hot youth.” I turned down two offers to direct films, because it’s not a job I am meant to do.
DP: I know the Film Forum is only one stop on your schedule and that you will be speaking at several Welles events this year.  Will this be different from the others?
JM: This is a wide-ranging retrospective programmed by the estimable Bruce Goldstein. He is including all of Welles’s released films except for the unavailable Filming Othello, along with some films Welles acted in but did not direct. Bruce is also producing and writing the intertitles for the first-ever production of the Too Much Johnson footage with a reading from the William Gillette play. (William Holhauser is editing the footage, and Allen Lewis Rickman is adapting and directing the play portion of the event). Other Welles events I am attending will be conferences or briefer retrospectives. I am going to Woodstock, Illinois, where he went to the Todd School, to talk about Other Wind and Ambersons, and to Kenosha, Wisconsin, where he was born, to show Ambersons in a house in his old neighborhood that resembles the Amberson mansion. I will also be part of a scholarly conference at Indiana University in Bloomington, where Welles’s Mercury Theatre papers are housed. And I will be part of a conference in Barcelona, where international scholars will assemble and we will watch a restored print of Chimes at Midnight in the cathedral where Welles shot thirty percent of the film.
DP: The Film Forum is, amazingly, showing three versions of Touch of Evil, and you will be comparing and contrasting all three.  Would I or anyone else have seen the 108-minute "preview" version you are introducing when you talk on Wednesday, January 14?  And if you had your way, would you keep only one version in circulation or do you like having all three versions available to the public?
JM: The preview version is available on the Universal DVD set with the other two versions. It is good to have all three versions: preview, release, and restoration. I was a consultant (along with fellow Welles scholars Jonathan Rosenbaum and James Naremore) on the 1998 restoration done by Walter Murch. Murch made fifty changes to correspond to requests by Welles to Universal-International in his fifty-eight-page memo in December 1957 after seeing a version they had put together after barring him from the editing process (that version already contained additional scenes shot by another director, Harry Keller). The studio followed only a few of Welles’s requests, but Murch did all he could, and it helps the film immensely. The preview version contains some footage by Welles that was not retained in the 1958 release version, but it also contains more of the Keller footage than made it into the release version, so it’s a mixed bag. The preview version is not the “director’s cut.” Nor is the Murch version, though both have mistakenly been described as that. The director’s cut has vanished. The studio, which Welles said was positive about the shooting and the rushes, was horrified by the film as he assembled it and reedited it. As Murch put it, “The film committed perhaps the worst sin in the Hollywood book: it was a decade or so ahead of its time.”
DP: Do you consider Touch of Evil separate from his other masterpieces and more connected to Man in the Shadow? Of course, both films were brought to him by Albert Zugsmith.
JM: Man in the Shadow helped lead to Touch of Evil, and it has some elements similar to the thematic concerns of Welles’s own films as a director (partly because he helped write the earlier film, which was directed by Jack Arnold), but it’s not remotely in the same league artistically as Touch of Evil. Charlton Heston also played a key role in getting Welles the job of directing Touch of Evil (for which Welles initially was considered only to play the “heavy,” Captain Quinlan), but Welles’s prior working relationship with Zugsmith also was important.
DP: According to Zugsmith, he and Welles got along well and Welles didn't object to Zugsmith's cutting suggestions.  Is that accurate and if so why was Welles so amenable to the cuts?
JM: Although Welles seems to have had a rapport with Zugsmith, Welles wasn’t amenable to most of the many alterations the studio did to the film, as the memo shows. Diplomatic as that memo is--because he was trying to persuade the studio to go along with his suggestions, even though he had no contractual control--it clearly emerged from his acute distress at how much tampering had gone on behind his back. Zugsmith’s role in all this is not entirely clear, but it’s evident that the blame rests on the executive level at Universal-International. Nevertheless, Touch of Evil is a genuinely great film. Heston liked to patronize it by calling it the greatest B movie ever made, but it requires no such excuses. It’s a spectacular Hollywood comeback by a formerly blacklisted director who was making a frontal attack on the abuse of police authority and on injustice toward minority groups in the U.S. As such it remains highly timely. And aesthetically, of course, Touch of Evil is one of the most daring, innovative, and groundbreaking of Welles’s films, which is why it’s one of his most influential and widely imitated works.


A lurid poster to help promote an art film
 
DP: I think Janet Leigh, even more than Rita Hayworth in The Lady from Shanghai, is portrayed sexually. Few other females in Welles's films are remembered for being sexual.  Leigh has some pre-Psycho scenes that are far more lurid than anything in Welles's other films.  So was this Zugsmith's influence, or did Welles do this on his own?
JM: Zugsmith’s lurid influence certainly can be credited in part with this development. And Touch of Evil was such an influence on Psycho that Welles was angry about it, even claiming to me that Psycho is “a sick film.” Welles’s work as a director until what I call his “Oja period”-- i.e., his films after he met his companion and collaborator Oja Kodar in 1962--had been relatively puritanical when it came to portraying sex. In that era he hated to be blatant about sex, and the roles played by women in his films also tend to be less complex than those of his men. Shanghai, however, deals with sexuality to a large extent, partly because it’s a meditation on Rita Hayworth (Welles’s second wife) and her appeal as a star. The “Oja period” Welles films--from The Trial and The Immortal Story to The Other Side of the Wind and The Dreamers and other unfinished works--deal much more explicitly with sexual themes, both heterosexual and homosexual. Welles seemed somewhat liberated by Kodar’s influence. And the changing times no doubt influenced him; no artist is immune from the world around him, and Welles was always reflecting and commenting on social changes. In Other Wind’s film-within-the-film, he’s partly satirizing the sex-and-violence obsessions of what we now call Easy Rider era Hollywood, and specifically the way the visiting filmmaker Michelangelo Antonioni deals with American youth culture in Zabriskie Point, a fascinating film about that era, even if Welles loathed Antonioni. The sex scene in the car in Other Wind is one of the greatest sequences in Welles’s body of work. That tour-de-force sequence of rapid, rhythmical editing and expressionistic color changes, coupled with the intense action of Kodar humping Bob Random in a car in the rain, amounts to a cinematic equivalent of an orgasm.
DP: Including Moses and Ben-Hur, do you think Ramon Miguel (“Mike”) Vargas in Touch of Evil is Charlton Heston's most important role?
JM: Heston was described in France as “an axiom of the cinema,” and he deserves cinematic immortality for getting Welles to direct Touch of Evil, not to mention his always solid body of work as an actor. He is fine as Vargas--he doesn’t get enough credit for being unstereotypical and heroic as the Mexican official, a role for which he is unfairly disparaged by today’s PC police--and I also particularly admire his General Gordon in Khartoum.
Welles, Heston and camera operator Phil Lathrop
 
DP: How many times did you have to see the three-minute opening shot before you fully appreciated it?
JM: The very first time, in a little room at the Memorial Union in Madison…it blew me away! It is enhanced in the Murch version by not having the titles superimposed to distract us from the visuals. And by having the sounds of the border town play in a complex Murchian aural collage (as Welles intended) rather than being drowned out by the former Henry Mancini title music. Welles told me, on the other hand, that the first interrogation scene in the apartment (lasting five minutes and twenty-three seconds) is “the greatest use of the moving camera in the history of cinema.” He said that while “Everyone talks about the opening shot,” he felt that interrogation scene is more impressive. I agree. There are more than sixty camera moves and several characters moving balletically from room to room, along with their shadows. The other two interrogation scenes in the apartment are also done in unbroken long takes, although they are shorter. These three interrogation scenes are subtler than the spectacular opening shot, so most viewers don’t realize how astonishing they are technically and artistically.
DP: Perhaps the most overlooked aspect of Touch of Evil is the relationship between Welles's brilliant but crooked, racist cop and his adoring partner, who eventually realizes his idol is corrupt. This is far-fetched, but do you think this relationship resonated with Welles in that he was insecure that all his idolizing fans and critics would discover (wrongly of course) that he was a fake?
JM: Welles told Cahiers du Cinéma that “the real theme of the scenario is treason, the terrible impulsion that Menzies [Joseph Calleia] has to betray his friend,” Captain Quinlan. Menzies is acting on principle, after he comes to grips with the depths of his idol’s corruption, but on a human level it is tragic; it’s another of Welles’s male relationships that ends in betrayal. Heston’s Vargas also feels besmirched by having to bug Quinlan to get the evidence on him. These are elements that make the theme of exposing the abuse of authority more complex and nuanced. It’s not coincidental that the feature film Welles made in Hollywood after coming back from the blacklist deals with a friend betraying a friend.
But I don’t think Welles suffered from what’s called by psychologists “the imposter phenomenon,” the fear that one will be found out to be a fake and the feeling that one is being admired for the wrong reasons. Frank Capra suffered from that anxiety, as I discuss at length in my biography Frank Capra: The Catastrophe of Success. But Welles had a healthy self-regard. He had his anxieties and insecurities as every artist does, and his troubles with studios and money people, often centered around the editing process, caused him to be highly skittish in dealing with the “suits.” As Heston noted, the one skill Welles lacked was charming the money men, though understandably so. After Touch of Evil was taken away from him, which he called a “terribly traumatic experience,” he was lastingly resistant to working for major studios. I don’t know how he went on after The Magnificent Ambersons was mutilated, but he did. Still, after it happened again, though to a lesser extent, on Touch of Evil, he never wanted to direct a studio film again and went totally independent, literally making “home movies” for the rest of his time in America. My book What Ever Happened to Orson Welles? argues that he was always essentially an independent filmmaker, though from time to time he used the resources of major studios. I am indebted for this insight to the esteemed film historian Douglas Gomery, another of our University of Wisconsin “film mafia” colleagues.
 
DP: You're introducing the restored "Scottish version" of Macbeth.  I know the original Scottish burrs were restored by the UCLA Film Archive. What do you think that does for the film?  And is that the only change from the theatrical version you will talk about?
JM: I was amazed when Robert Gitt of the UCLA Film and Television Archive, with the help of Welles's longtime assistant Richard Wilson, restored Macbeth in 1980. I did a program with them at the University of Southern California when the film was unveiled there. (Yes, USC, not UCLA). Following its initial U.S. release in 1948, which occasioned critical derision, the film had been cut and partially redubbed, in a mistaken attempt by Republic to make it seem more intelligible to American audiences. Welles didn't want to make changes--such as redubbing his and other actors' authentic Scottish burrs to more "American"-sounding voices--but cooperated from Europe, where he had escaped from the blacklist, with poor Dick Wilson staying behind, having to execute the instructions for a 1950 reissue. Bob Gitt located original elements and put the film back the way Welles intended. I had been negative toward the film in my 1972 book Orson Welles but was delighted to find my opinion of it radically reversed with the restoration: The acting is much better with the Scottish accents (particularly that of Jeanette Nolan's Lady Macbeth, whose good work Welles thought was badly hurt by the dubbing), and the atmosphere, camerawork, and editing are richer, their texture more complex (the astonishing full uncut reel of King Duncan's murder was restored, for instance). I now see Macbeth as a triumph of avant-garde, low-budget filmmaking pulled off somehow within the Hollywood system (Republic sometimes went after prestige). The film was mocked by critics who preferred Laurence Olivier's stodgy Hamlet, but Welles's film is far more cinematically vital and daring.
DP: Would you want to see subtitles or should we just listen harder?
JM: Actually, Welles thought, and I agree, that the Scottish burrs are easier for American
audiences to understand, because that accent slows down the speech. The enhanced authenticity of the ancient tale also helps convey the strangeness of the story. It does help to be familiar with any Shakespearean play before you see its film adaptation. But most of us read (or used to do so) Macbeth in high school or college, and its relatively
straightforward plot makes it easy enough to follow. I am happy that my San Francisco
State students in my recent course on Welles found it among his most exciting films.
DP: Which do you prefer: Welles's Macbeth or Welles's Othello?
JM: Macbeth by far. I find some serious problems with Othello, both in Welles's performance (he was miscast and seems ill at ease in the role) and in the somewhat muffled soundtrack. The highly fragmented editing (necessitated by shooting on location for four years in different countries) is virtuosic, but I prefer the longer takes of Macbeth.
DP: What can the audience expect when you host “Wellesiana” at the Film Forum?
JM: Surprises, for various reasons, partly out of showmanship. We will show some crowd-pleasing familiar treats that bear repeating but are perhaps known by Welles aficionados more than by casual filmgoers, some rarities “civilians” may not know at all (such as his early experimental film The Hearts of Age), but much more that is esoteric and hard to see, little known even by Welles buffs. We will try to cover a wide range from early Welles to late unfinished Welles, with unexpected points of achievement and hilarity in between.
DP: And you are also introducing The Magnificent Ambersons and discussing the theatrical version with the studio-imposed edits and its differences from the original Welles version.  I would think the most difficult challenge you face is: convincing viewers who saw the cut version for years and consider it a masterpiece that the version Welles intended would have been so much better.
JM: I did the first verbal “reconstruction” of Ambersons for my 1968 Wisconsin Film Society book Persistence of Vision: An Anthology of Film Criticism and revised it for my 1972 book Orson Welles and again for the 1996 edition. I consider that my best piece of film criticism, one that shows in detail how much deeper Welles’s version was in every respect, thematically and stylistically. I believe Ambersons might well have been the greatest American film if RKO had left it alone. As we go on here, I will discuss my reasons for saying that.
DP: Both Robert Wise and Mark Robson expressed sincere regret to me that RKO forced them to edit a final version after Welles abandoned ship and went off to make Journey into Fear. So who do you think are the villains and the victims?
JM: Welles didn’t “abandon ship.” He was shooting Ambersons when Pearl Harbor was attacked in December 1941, and the U.S. government told him it was his urgent patriotic duty to go to South America to make a documentary, It’s All True, to celebrate our alliance with that part of the world and to help combat fascism. He was reluctant to go but felt he had no choice, especially since the Hearst papers and others were calling him a draft dodger. Welles had Norman Foster finishing Journey into Fear at the same time as Ambersons was finishing shooting. Welles made arrangements for Wise to go to Brazil to complete the finetuning of the Ambersons editing with him. Wise either couldn’t get a plane because of the war, or RKO reneged on the agreement, or both. Then the studio lied to Welles about what the budget was on It’s All True. They also fought with him over his duties to the U.S. to serve as a goodwill ambassador during the shoot and blamed him for production problems, not all of his control. Because of the studio’s chicanery, he never realized he actually was $447,452 under budget when he was doing his final shooting after being fired for allegedly being over budget; I discovered this by going through RKO and U.S. government documents. It changes everything about the myth that Welles was run out of Hollywood for extravagance. RKO spread that lie, which seriously damaged his career and is still believed by many people.
In his forced absence, Ambersons had a couple of previews in which mostly youthful yahoos hooted at Agnes Moorehead’s Aunt Fanny (as, indeed, they did until the women’s movement arrived in the late 1960s) and were restless over the film’s somber nature and harsh social commentary. So RKO got Wise to cut fifty minutes out of the film and reshoot parts of it; assistant director Freddie Fleck shot the ridiculous ending. Then RKO dumped the film on the market, deliberately sabotaged the release after it opened well in some places, and kicked Welles’s unit off the lot. Welles always blamed Wise for the ruination of Ambersons, and Wise deserves some of the blame, although it was a more complicated situation than laying it all on one man. Wise no doubt was advancing his career by doing the studio’s bidding, as Welles believed, but when I spoke with Wise more than once about the situation, it was clear that he sincerely believed he was saving a film that was almost unreleasable, even though he recognized Welles’s version was better.
The problem with that was that Wise was a Hollywood guy through-and-through and Welles was not; Welles was an artist. Welles also had the misfortune to be making a film attacking American industrialization and pollution at the precise time the country was gearing up its industrial production massively for its entry into the world war.  In that climate, Ambersons was seen as subversive, which, in a way, it is. And Welles was the fall guy for a change of regimes at RKO and for a board of directors that never believed hiring an artist from the New York stage was a good idea. Jean Renoir once remarked that Welles’s problem in films was that he was an aristocrat working in a popular medium. He was a democrat (small “d”) and progressive politically but an aristocrat by temperament.
DP: I know that you feel the edits broke up the film’s fluidity at key times, including the ending, and made the town less important than it should be.  What else? Without giving away too much of your talk, what are the main points you try to make in your talk?
JM: My friend Roger Ryan put together his own partial “reconstruction” using stills to cover many of the missing scenes and having amateur actors deliver the missing dialogue, which we know from the cutting continuity for the Welles version. Roger also uses the Bernard Herrmann music that had been cut from the film (Herrmann took his name off it when another composer redid part of his work). The result of this “reconstruction” is actually shocking--it’s such a different film from the release version. It’s far darker and far more political. RKO tried to cut as much of the critique of industrialization and its prescient view of air pollution as it could, although some remains. There were many more Chekhovian overtones of the family lamenting the changes in their town and their lives; it was an American Cherry Orchard. What a disturbing and challenging film about our society Ambersons would have been if it had been left alone. Roger’s admirable attempt to show us what it was like is only partial, but we can get the idea of what it was.
DP: This film is so unlike Welles’s other films—though you have pointed out connections to Citizen Kane—so I sincerely ask: why did he want to adapt the book into a movie?  Was it the story or the filmmaking possibilities that most intrigued him?
JM: Welles saw in the book and in the film much of his own upbringing and heritage. He believed novelist Booth Tarkington based Eugene Morgan partly on his own father, industrialist Richard Welles, and there is evidence that Tarkington did know Mr. Welles. I also believe that George Orson Welles saw his dark side in the devilishly charming but destructive young George Amberson Minafer, and the death scene of his mother, Isabel Amberson Minafer, is drawn from Welles’s memory of his own last meeting with his mother, who died when he was nine. As I mentioned, Welles felt he had caused his own father’s death. Welles suffered from lifelong guilt as a result, much as George does after his mother dies, although he may not fully appreciate all the damage he has done. Welles was always mourning Lost Edens. This was his. It can’t get any more personal than that, even if someone else wrote the book. I think Falstaff is Welles as he saw himself. George is Welles as he feared he partly was or had been when he regarded himself as the demonic youth he portrays in his semiautobiographical 1934 play Bright Lucifer.
Welles and Tim Holt
 
DP: Did Welles cast Tim Holt as George because he resembled Welles? And do you think Holt is the weak link in the movie, or am I underestimating him?
JM: Welles played George in the 1939 radio version, poorly, putting on a pouting little-boy voice. He was too old to play George in the film, so he narrates instead, with unparalleled eloquence. I want to write an essay on how good Tim Holt is in that film. People have always underestimated him because they find his character objectionable. You have to differentiate between an actor and the character he or she plays. Over the years I have come to appreciate just how fine and nuanced Holt is. He somehow manages to make us empathize with George despite all of his egomania and all the despicable things he does, including killing his mother after ruining her life. He’s a classic tragic protagonist. I want to explain how he does that. His George manages to charm people who should know better, such as Lucy and Eugene Morgan. That trait is critical to the success of the performance. For contrast, see Jonathan Rhys Meyers in the abysmal 2002 TV remake of Ambersons. He is so monstrous and loathsome that no one would want to be in the same room with him. Holt’s George, by contrast, is very human. He compels people to want to be with him, if only to try to understand him, as we do with tragic characters.
I also identify with Holt because Welles would shout at me when I was acting in Other Wind, “Don’t act!” I read in a 1942 Los Angeles Times article that Welles would do that to Holt as well. But Holt was an accomplished actor (he is also fine in John Huston’s The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and Ford’s My Darling Clementine, among others), and Welles was the greatest actors’ director in the history of the cinema. His secret was that he treated every actor differently and was a master psychologist, giving each actor what he or she needed. So he drew great performances not only from John Gielgud and Jeanne Moreau but also from Tim Holt and Dorothy Comingore and many others of varying range.
DP: Do people at your talks ask about Stanley Cortez?
JM: I was on a panel with him once. He was as pompous and arrogant as Welles thought he was. He was a great cameraman in many ways but a “criminally slow” one, according to Welles. Cortez falsely claimed he shot all of Ambersons. But Welles told me with bemusement about the time he received an invitation to a tribute for Cortez, “the only cameraman I’ve ever fired.” Actually, he fired some on Othello too. But Welles told me he fired Cortez from Ambersons for slowness. Cortez cried and begged to stay on the film. So Welles relented to the extent of setting up a second unit for Cortez. Cortez would work for three or four hours setting up a shot while Welles was working on the main unit with Harry J. Wild or Russell Metty or other DPs who were faster. Then Welles would go and quickly direct the scene Cortez had set up, and return to the first unit. There’s no denying Cortez did beautiful work in Ambersons, but it wasn’t all him. He was also fired from Chinatown, another great film. That said, Cortez did astonishing work on The Night of the Hunter. And I wish I’d asked Sam Fuller how he got Cortez to do those quickie shoots on Shock Corridor and The Naked Kiss, also strikingly shot films.
DP: How important is The Magnificent Ambersons to Welles’ career and how important would it be for movie fans to see the “director’s cut?"
JM: If we could find the director's cut, it would be one of the great artistic finds in history. Welles’s standing in film history is already high, but it would go even higher. I am planning an expedition to Brazil to do what I can to see if it can be found.
Welles directing The Magnificent Ambersons
 
DP: Would you have liked Welles, if he had the money, to have done a remake to his liking later in his career with an entirely new cast?
JM: Not a remake, but he was thinking of redoing the lost ending in the boarding house with Joseph Cotten and Agnes Moorehead naturally aged into their roles. That would have been wonderful. I saw the frame enlargement of the final shot when Bogdanovich had it in 1970. It’s since been lost. It shows an overhead long shot of the polluted city with Eugene’s little car vanishing around a corner. There is an elevated train in the background, the car is surrounded by tall impersonal buildings, and smoke wreathes the atmosphere. It’s a hellish vision of what happened to our country in the modern machine age.
DP: Is there any question you would now like to ask Welles about Ambersons to satisfy your curiosity?
JM: Yes, I wish I’d asked him in great detail what he did with that print in Brazil and if it was left there or might have come back with him. Frame enlargements were made of missing scenes. I thought perhaps he had them made after his return to Hollywood in June, but evidently they were made in Hollywood when he was in South America. Some mysteries remain.
DP: Many decades have passed since you first became a Welles fan. We’re nearing Welles’s age when he died.  How has your aging changed how you look at him and his work?  Do you see anything differently because you have a different perspective?
JM: Sure, and I’m older now than he was when I met him. Films change as we grow; they seem to change for better or worse. We can see layers and depths we may have missed before. But my view of his work has remained relatively consistent. Like Welles, I was into old age themes when I was very young; I did not identify with my generation. Perhaps I am less into old age now that I am getting to be a certified geezer. In any case, I have learned that once you start writing about someone, you can never stop. I am sure when I turn ninety, I will be writing a book called Orson Welles: The Last Word.
DP: What are the five Welles films you want to be buried with?
JM: This interview has taken a very morbid turn! But that’s OK, Danny, since Welles’s films are so much about mortality. I think the only immortality is when a person or a work lives in our memory. I think about John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King and Orson Welles and John Ford all the time. So they live in my memory and those of many other people. We don’t need to be buried with their works. They become part of us.