Me and Orson Welles
Studio: Freestyle Releasing, LLC
Rated: PG-13
Cast: Zac Efron, Christian McKay, Ben Chaplin, Claire Danes, Kelly Reilly
Director: Richard Linklater
WorkNameSort: Me and Orson Welles
Our Rating: 3.00
It remains one of cinema’s funny little twists that among a dozen or so attempts to portray the formidable director Orson Welles, the most captivating thus far came from a TV movie (1999’s RKO 281, with Liev Schreiber as the larger-than-life genius), a medium Welles himself might have laughed off.
In the past, Hollywood films have cast Welles in casual asides (Cradle Will Rock, Ed Wood). The 2006 Spanish drama Fade to Black gave Welles his due, but Richard Linklater’s Me and Orson Welles might be the first Hollywood film to take the man seriously.
The story is seen through the eyes of a young New York actor (Zac Efron) who impresses Welles enough to finagle a role in Welles’ modernized 1937 production of Julius Caesar. (The two bond over their utter disregard for Shakespeare’s ‘to be or not to beâ?� soliloquy.) Efron’s Lucius leaps into the chaotic fire that is a Welles production, falling in love (to the bemusement of these theater vets), seeking Welles’ approval and catching a glimpse of the man’s hidden passions, namely the book The Magnificent Ambersons. Welles seems to caress his copy of the book in a scene made all the more poignant knowing his future heartbreaking attempt to adapt it in a film version. Though his film was released, the picture was ripped from his hands, re-shot and re-edited, and Welles’ rough cut was destroyed by the studio.
Scenes like these are intoxicating for fans of cinema and theater and are helped along by virtual newcomer Christian McKay’s snappy portrayal of Welles. But they are few and far between. Most of Me and Orson Welles sinks under its own stiff weight while Efron and Claire Danes struggle with the jazz-age dialogue, which itself never achieves liftoff. The script, adapted from Robert Kaplow’s novel, is by first-time writing team Holly Gent Palmo and Vincent Palmo Jr.
Linklater seems to have fun going big. His long, busy tracking shots and sweeping cranes never feel forced, but eventually you wonder what they’re in service of. Like Tim Robbins’ Cradle Will Rock, Welles is a cinematic lark of self-contained reverence, something that best belongs on a stage, like its characters. Linklater does escape the Mercury Theatre at times ‘ we see at least one other character’s apartment as well as a fine re-creation of the Metropolitan Museum of Art ‘ but these scenes never amount to much.
The real action is back at the Mercury, and especially with Orson Welles. Linklater plays on the joke that a major part of being in a Welles play is simply waiting for Welles to arrive, but that waiting asks too much from the viewer when scenes without McKay lack sparkle or wit.
Thinking back to why Liev Schreiber’s take on the man was so thoroughly pleasing, I’m reminded that his Welles was surrounded by characters like Herman J. Mankiewicz, Gregg Toland, David O. Selznick and William Randolph Hearst. Compare that to the sensitive-yet-overconfident drama kids at his feet here.
‘Tell me what company you keep,â?� someone once said, ‘and I’ll tell you what you are.â?� Me and Orson Welles, by that standard, is pretty damn dull.
This article appears in Dec 16-22, 2009.