Probably no American director could claim to be more influential than Orson Welles. The man is almost a character of myth as his meteoric rise lead him to one of the greatest Hollywood contracts of all time, only to have his fame snatched away by studios afraid of backlash from William Randolf Hearst and audiences not ready for the genius of Citizen Kane. Further studio interference crippled Welles’ pictures, especially The Magnificent Ambersons, which was cut by 43 minutes while the Director was out of the country. After various flirtations with success, Welles would follow up with a labyrinthine film that would baffle executives, giving more credence to his prima donna reputation. In the end, Welles was a vagabond, borrowing money where he could to make his movies, which he would often never even finish.
One often wonders if Welles would have been more successful as just an actor. On top of all the layers of Citizen Kane’s story and direction was a command debut from Orson Welles, the actor. Welles is able to take charge of a scene with his on camera presence as if he were turning on a switch. For instance, take the scene in which Kane explains that he is actually two people.
As Charles Foster Kane who owns eighty-two thousand, six hundred and thirty-four shares of public transit – you see, I do have a general idea of my holdings – I sympathize with you. Charles Foster Kane is a scoundrel. His paper should be run out of town. A committee should be formed to boycott him. You may, if you can form such a committee, put me down for a contribution of one thousand dollars.
During this portion of the scene, he’s quite jovial. His manner is mischievous, simply trying to throw his financial advisor off kilter. But as the conversation gets serious, we see how this man, who had never been the lead in a motion picture before, could completely take over the screen. Instantly changing tone, Orson goes from lovable oaf to crusader. As he calls the Transit Company a bunch of “money mad pirates”, we see a man we want to root for, not only Kane, but Orson himself. This also makes both of their downfalls all the more heartbreaking.
Throughout the years, Orson starred mostly in his own pictures, but one of his greatest successes was in Carol Reed’s The Third Man. Welles’ Harry Lime was what he referred to as a “Star Part”, and maybe the greatest one in history. This is a character that everyone talks about for an entire picture and then when he finally shows up, it’s an amazing event. Indeed Lime was a pivotal role in Welles’ career. Helped immensely by his screen presence, Lime is the most memorable character of the film, even though he is on screen a fraction of everyone else’s screen time!
After another series of starts and stops on various projects, most notably Mr. Arkadin and Don Quixote, Welles was called in to star in what was probably his last masterpiece. In Touch of Evil, Welles was brought in to star opposite Charlton Heston. Problem was, Heston believed Welles was being brought in to direct the film as well and refused to work with anyone else. Universal, the studio financing the picture, agreed as long Welles kept the fee they had already agreed to. Welles did agree to those terms, rewrote the screenplay and made his last masterpiece.
Touch of Evil Starring Charlton Heston, Janet Leigh, and Orson Welles. Directed by Orson Welles
While Welles the actor give a tour de force in Touch of Evil, initially it’s very difficult to ignore the quality of the film’s direction. The picture begins with one of the most famous shots of all time. A bomb is placed in a wealthy man’s car as he crosses the border from Mexico to America. Unbroken, the crane shot moves to Mexican Drug Enforcement Agent Mike Vargas (Charlton Heston). He’s just married Susan (Janet Leigh) and takes her for a chocolate soda as the car with the bomb passes them. As the couple gets to their destination, the car explodes, virtually in front of them.
From these opening moments, the film caused controversy. Universal wanted the film’s opening credits to roll as the shot unfolded. Welles completely disagreed, probably noting that the credits would take away from the intricate work he had already put into the sequence. Universal won out, but Welles’ original intentions were finally realized on screen when the film’s “director’s cut” was released in theaters.
After the explosion, shades of The Third Man show up as the Police officers at the scene wait for the arrival of Welles’ Police Captain Hank Quinlan. This goes on for minutes, as they wait for the arrival of the man, supposedly one of America’s most decorated Police Officers in the country. When he finally arrives, we don’t get the beautiful, charming Harry Lime, or the dark but charismatic Michael O’Hara of Lady from Shanghai. We get a character who seems to embody Welles’ world weary inner self.
Hank Quinlan can almost be looked at as an evolution of Welles’ screen persona starting with the idealistic Kane, then moving to the Nazi War criminal of The Stranger who would make him a little darker. The man fighting his past in Lady from Shanghai would have an inner grotesqueness, but still keep his charm, as would Harry Lime in The Third Man. With Mr. Arkadin the persona would start to let his monstrousness show, and Quinlan would be a full on demonstration of the darkness within Welles unleashed in front of a viewing audience. Quinlan’s girth was exaggerated by Welles’ camera angles and by layers of padding on his face and body. He speaks in a way that is almost indiscernible, like he’s in a perpetual stupor, though the film mentions quite often that he has been sober for years, apparently giving up alcohol for candy bars. Making things worse is that Quinlan believes his own reputation, judging that he does the right thing, even when his methods are less than credible.
To complete the look, he walks with a cane and up against the masculine Heston as Vargas, Quinlan looks like an ogre from myth. This is the struggle that drives the entire picture. The virtuous Vargas, symbolized by the actor that was the epitome of masculinity for a generation, must take on the gargantuan cop that seems as dirty on the outside as he is on the inside. The plot is almost inconsequential as the real story here is the struggle between these two titans.
Caught in the middle of their struggle are two characters, who are the moral barometer for an audience watching these two extremes. First is Janet Leigh’s Susie Vargas. Seemingly, cast aside by her driven husband looking for justice, Susie is stuck out at a remote motel, waiting for her Mike to return to her. Quinlan sets up the poor woman to frame her on murder and drug charges. The scenes in which Susie is assaulted by a gang working for Quinlan while at the motel are some of the most tension filled ever put on screen. Everything from the look of the gang to Dennis Weaver’s shaky motel clerk are there to make you squirm from frame one. Even though we don’t see anything on screen, what we’re preparing for makes us as uneasy as anything ever put on film. This is masterful storytelling by Welles.
The other character having to deal with the conflict between Vargas and Quinlan is Hank’s best friend and partner Pete Menzies played by Joseph Calleia. Menzies worships Quinlan, as Hank once took a bullet for his partner and he is unquestionably loyal. This is a wonderful performance by Calleia, as Pete is very lovable, almost like a lovesick puppy. His devotion to Quinlan speaks to us at a level we ourselves felt while watching Welles stand up for the people of New York in Kane. His disappointment and heartbreak when Quinlan’s true nature is revealed to him is also a similar feeling to watching Kane tear up his “declaration of principles”.
A wonderful cast rounds the film out, but there’s barely room for anyone else as Heston and Welles chew up the scenery around them. Marlene Dietrich is most impressive, though her part is quite minimal. Her Tanya is a fortune teller and owns a shady dive south of the border. We infer that she and Quinlan were once lovers, and that deep down she still has a love for him, but has forced herself to put it away forever. She knows he will only lead her to destruction otherwise. Her lines about Quinlan “not having any future” are simple, yet haunting. Apparently, Universal didn’t even know she was going to be in the film until they first saw rushes. She appeared as a favor to Welles and shot all of her scenes in one day.
Other supporting players include perennial Welles co-stars Joseph Cotton and Akim Tamiroff. Cotton plays a coroner and is miles away from his usual everyman persona. Tamiroff plays “Uncle” Joe Grandi a Mexican crime family boss who helps Quinlan frame Vargas. Both roles come off as creepy, but so does the rest of the film.
Speaking of creepy, Dennis Weaver gives probably his most memorable performance as the motel clerk who freaks out seemingly every other moment he’s on screen. Mercedes McCambridge, who had just been nominated for an Academy Award in 1957, plays a female gang member who “likes to watch” as they assault Leigh’s Susie. Zsa Zsa Gabor fans only get a glimpse of her, but she’s as ravishing as ever.
Much like every other studio film he ever made, Welles lost control of this picture during post production. Getting the film in on time and on budget apparently wasn’t enough for studio bosses, off put by the film’s eccentric style. They re-shot scenes and edited the film poorly, making it harder to understand. The film failed at the box office, but was hailed by European audiences and critics, who had trumpeted Welles accomplishments before. Now, the film is considered the masterpiece it is, especially after the “director’s cut’s” 1998 release, restoring a lot of footage. Before losing control of the film though, Welles had a virtual toy-box of great actors and decent budget to work with. He made one last attempt at the fame he deserved, and instead was shut out of Hollywood forever. What the studios did was deny audiences one of the most gifted film makers who ever lived.
Picture Credits: dvdbeaver.com, tcf.ua.edu, metroactive.com, eskimo.com
