RKO 281 (1999) - full transcript
Coming to Hollywood as a celebrated boy genius featuring a spectacular career arc in New York including his radio hoax War of the Worlds, Orson Welles is stymied on the subject for his first film. After a dinner party at Hearst Castle, during which he has a verbal altercation with William Randolph Hearst, Welles decides to do a movie about Hearst. It takes him some time to convince co-writer Herman J. Mankiewicz and the studio, but Welles eventually gets the script and the green light, keeping the subject very hush-hush with the press. The movie is about an aging newspaper publisher who controlled his enemies as ruthlessly as he controlled his friends; and whose mistress was destined for fame. When a rough cut is screened, Hearst gets wind of the movie's theme and begins a campaign to see that it is not only never publicly screened, but destroyed.
Orson?
Come into the light.
Never stand in the shadows.
You were made for the light.
Always remember that.
Now turn around and make a wish.
Go on.
You must blow out your candles.
One breath now.
That's all you get... one chance.
Are you ready?
Now.
He came to the
town of magic and dreams,
a flashing star, blazing
through the firmament of illusion.
He was 24 years old
and his name was Orson Welles.
Sound the trumpets,
unfurl the banners, Hollywood,
the boy wonder has arrived.
May 6th, 1915, the prodigy makes his debut
on the world stage in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
May 7th, he speaks
his first words, and they are
"I am a genius."
Subsequent developments
confirm this opinion.
At 18 he goes to New York,
the cauldron of the world.
Watch out, cauldron. Orson has arrived.
Like Hannibal over the Alps,
the boy genius invades the Great White Way
with production after production.
And then he takes to the airwaves...
step two in his plan for global domination.
This is the end now.
They're running toward the East River.
Thousands of them, dropping in like rats.
"The War of the Worlds" broadcast
sends this nation spinning into a frenzy.
Yes, the boy wonder has fooled us all.
We had no idea any of this was happening.
I-I...
I feel just horrible.
Mr. Welles, can you
come over here. Mr. Welles!
Mr. Welles, over here!
How long can it possibly be
before the sunny land of dreams
tries to harness the combustible power
of this showman extraordinaire?
The winner in the Welles derby
is George Schaefer,
the head of RKO Pictures.
With a contract unimaginable
before the days of Orson,
Mr. Schaefer captures the
whirlwind, snares the beast.
Eyebrows raise and jaws drop
when terms of the deal come forth.
The boy wonder can write,
direct and star in his own projects.
The studio? Well, they
just pay the bills. Oh!
So cometh Orson.
He met the biggest of the big
and charmed his way through the town.
From the Brown Derby to the Copacabana,
from Louella Parsons to Hedda Hopper...
those rival maidens of Hollywood gossip.
And so today, almost a year
after his arrival,
we leave the boy wonder still hard at work
developing his much-anticipated
first feature.
We're waiting, Orson.
Genius? Who does that
cocksucker think he is?
Word is glory boy's
all finished, Mr. Mayer.
Can't come up with a movie.
They're laying bets over at RKO
this deal ends up with him
never doing a picture. Huh.
Back to New York he goes. Yeah.
After RKO boots him,
let's pick him up cheap.
Have him do that "War of
the Worlds" crap as a feature.
It's money in the bank for us
and bingo, no more genius.
This is Hollywood,
junior. What did you expect?
And you keep coming up
with the same elitist crap.
Enough, Mank.
God, I've heard this from Schaefer
and everyone else at RKO. I
don't need to hear it from you.
"Heart of Darkness," million-dollar budget.
No one wants to see that.
That's nonsense and you know it.
Orson, what do you think movies are
about? Don't start this, Mank, please.
No, I'm interested. What do
you think movies are about?
Life's rich pageant.
Life's rich pageant, my ass.
People are sick to death of life.
They want make-believe.
Okay? They want Tarzan and Jane,
not "Tristan and Isolde."
You know what they want, Mank?
Magic.
You know what
your job is in Hollywood?
Put butts in seats.
Let me see that.
It's all about selling
popcorn and Pepsi-Colas.
Not for me it isn't.
Then you're about to become
the youngest never-was
in the history of Hollywood.
Better than the oldest has-been. Is it?
Okay, Mank.
What are we going to write?
I don't know. You tell me.
You're the boy wonder.
Well?
Jesus Christ. Come on.
The old man doesn't cotton to lateness.
Good evening, Mr. Hearst.
My name is Orson Welles.
Orson!
So we set traps everywhere, right?
And every morning,
the traps would be sprung
but there would be no mice.
What? Woman: So one night I noticed
Pops here getting out of bed...
"Sigmund
Freud: Life and Times."
Oh, that's a great idea.
Just got your ass kicked on Joseph Conrad
and now it's the id and the superego.
I'll be goddamned if he
isn't springing the traps
and leaving cheese for the goddamn mice.
You... you and that guy Disney,
in love with the damn rats.
Okay then... Manolete.
Who?
Manolete, the great Spanish bullfighter.
Imagine Clark here in a
glittering suit of lights...
on the Andalusian plains.
Mr. Welles is attempting semaphore.
Bullfighting, Miss Davies.
Oh. Is dear Mank your bull?
My factotum, comrade-in-arms, ally.
Flunky, pimp.
Writer. That too.
You fight many bulls
there in New York, Orson?
No, when I was a tender lad,
my father and I made a tour of
the grand boulevards of Europe.
When we were in Spain
I had the good fortune
to sit at the knee of Manolete,
the greatest bullfighter of the age.
"What is the matador's
greatest enemy?" he asked me.
And of course I naively
responded, "The bull."
No, the bull is merely his adversary.
His greatest enemy is his own fear.
You see, to kill the bull,
one must first learn to think like him.
Having said that, he strode forth
gallantly into the ring. He flourished.
Flourished again.
Suddenly the bull charged.
It thundered towards him,
its calamitous hooves
shaking the earth beneath Manolete's feet.
And as it was almost upon him,
he stepped to the side,
flourished again and struck.
And when the dust cleared...
the sword was gone.
Vanished in the bloody eye of the beast.
That is barbaric.
Of all man's sadism...
none is more depraved
than his cruelty to animals.
Oh.
In Spain, sir, the cruelty would be
in denying the beast a fighting end...
as in your magnificent zoo, for instance.
And who are you, sir?
Orson Welles, sir.
Ah, the actor.
Mmm. And director.
I wish you luck.
In Hollywood,
the bull and the matador
are both slaughtered.
Why the crack about the zoo?
Why not just let it lie?
Because he's a hypocrite,
Mank. Yeah, so what?
Listen, I like to come here.
I want to be asked back.
Why? You have no place here.
Because Marion's my friend.
Did you hear what he said to me?
Preaching against man's cruelty to animals?
I mean, come on. Listen, come here.
I want to show you something.
The old man owns
the biggest publishing empire in the world.
When you have all that,
you can preach whatever you want.
Like appeasing Hitler.
A lot of people agree with him, Orson.
He tells them what they want to hear.
As if that was something to be proud of.
Can't smoke here.
Of course. How could I forget?
No smoking, no drinking...
no moral vices whatsoever.
I suppose keeping an alcoholic mistress
half your age is considered a virtue here.
The old man has
his own way of doing things.
I'll say.
Ah.
Oh God, these parties are awful.
You need to
get out of here, Rapunzel.
That's why he has the parties.
He says it's like bringing the world to me.
But it's not so bad here.
I mean, what girl doesn't
want to live in a castle?
Hey, Mr. Welles
certainly is a caution, isn't he?
And attractive, in a... hammy sort of way.
Listen. Why don't you come down
and stay with us for a few days?
Just tell the old man...
He needs me here.
So how big is this monstrosity? The estate?
Half the size of Rhode
Island. You're kidding me.
No. It's the place God would have built
if he'd had the money. Hello.
Manky.
Will you dance with me?
I'll dance with you. Oh good. Thank you.
Ooh. You've been naughty. Can you smell it?
So are you ever gonna do a picture?
Oh God, not you too,
Carole.
It's gonna be fine, Orson.
You're gonna do just great.
You're just scared.
Am I? Mm-hmm.
Hmm.
And what am I scared of, Carole?
Of being found out.
Of not being a genius.
God damn it, Pops. You gotta do something.
There's no need for that
kind of language. God damn it.
Orson. Hmm?
You missed the beat.
Oh!
I've got it. I know
what we're going to do.
Imagine a man who has shaped his time.
A titanic figure of limitless ambition.
A man with an empire at his feet,
controlling the perceptions
of everyone beneath him.
A modern feudal lord.
The great American biography,
a journey into the heart of the beast.
Oh no. Don't you see it?
He spent a lifetime making
entertainment out of other people's lives,
and now we turn the tables on him.
It's perfect! It's perfectly suicidal.
How long have I been looking for the answer
when all this time it's been
right here under my nose?
Every day in the newspapers, on the radio,
waiting for us in that ridiculous castle.
Orson, stop stop. Waiting
to be... I've talked to Arnie.
He says it's all right.
He says he's a public figure
who sought out that
publicity, so legally he can't...
Listen to me, you child.
He doesn't worry about
legalities. Do you know why?
Because he has more power than
you could even begin to imagine.
All the more reason to do it!
'Cause he insulted you at a dinner party?
Because he's a hypocrite.
Because he's a political turncoat.
He claims to care about the common man
when nothing could be
further from the truth.
Well, he's a journalist. He owns Hollywood.
We're the shit on his shoes.
You better go back to Broadway, kiddo.
I expected more from you, Mank.
Yeah, me too, but I got used to it.
How does that feel, getting used to it?
How does that feel, going up to the palace
and amusing all the lords and
ladies with the same old stories
they've heard a hundred times before?
How does it feel being
the ugly little monkey
they keep around to amuse themselves?
I remember a man who wrote,
a writer who dazzled me
with his wit and insight
who hasn't had a credit in four years
because he's been so furiously busy
wasting himself amusing his keepers,
because he's a sycophant
and because he's been thrown
out of every studio in Hollywood
and no one will hire him
because he's a drunk.
Which reminds me... I'm sorry, Mank,
you must be thirsty. Here. Have another.
I wouldn't want to stand
in the way of progress.
Do you honestly expect me
to believe you care about me?
You don't give a fuck
about anyone but yourself.
Hearst was right about you.
You're just another goddamn actor.
Mank, I'm sorry.
Orson, I don't have it in me anymore.
I used to have dreams too,
but that's over now.
It doesn't have to be. It is.
No studio would hire me. I'll hire you.
I just know this is the
story. Everything in my life...
all the potential, all the promise...
has led to this moment,
to right now, to you and me.
Orson...
he will destroy us.
Take my hand, Mank.
We'll make history.
We'll scorch the earth.
We will astonish them all.
Notes for a novel.
My great modern tragedy...
on Hearst. You're joking.
I guess great minds think alike, kid.
You've never told me about this before.
I haven't even looked at it in 10 years.
More importantly, I never
showed it to anyone else.
You know why? Because I wanna go on living.
Time to let go of that ambition, old boy.
"Rosebud."
What?
"Marion told Carole Lombard
that the old man's pet name
for it is 'Rosebud.'"
My God, Mank.
He has a pet name for her pussy
and you never told me?
Orson, you can't do a picture
where you have a pet name for a pussy.
In fact, you can't do a picture
where you have any name for a pussy.
Oh, I think we can find a way.
You just don't get it, do you?
Wh-why do you think
I scrapped all this stuff?
You can't scrap this. It's too good.
This is gold, Mank. Gold. You want gold?
I'll give you some gold. This is a story
you won't find written down in there
or anywhere else for that matter.
It's 1924 or so...
and Hearst is giving a birthday party
for an old Hollywood producer
called Thomas Ince...
on his yacht.
And all the usuals are there
Charlie Chaplin, Louella, et cetera.
And at this time
Marion was screwing everyone,
and so she slips off with Chaplin.
Hearst sees this.
He goes absolutely nuts.
He's there on the deck with a revolver,
just blasting away like Tom Mix.
And he hits Thomas Ince
right in the chest and he is dead.
Dead.
The empire snaps into action.
Ince is cremated lickety-split.
No police. No inquest.
The Hearst papers
cover it up nice and quiet.
The next morning, Hearst offers Louella
a lifetime contract
to keep her all hush-hush.
Now you tell me.
You still want to take a shaft
to a man like that?
Are you kidding me?
More than ever.
It's supposed to be Siam.
Some kind of Balinese temple.
Does it look like a temple to you?
Hmm.
Marion, I've spoken to Millicent.
She said no...
again.
She believes it would put
her soul in peril.
Divorce is a very serious sin, evidently.
It's bullshit. It's bullshit.
She just cares about the money, you know?
She thinks that I'll make
you cut her out of the will.
I do wish you wouldn't use that language.
He's a monster,
Mank, an unfeeling monster,
like all great men. Yeah,
but how do we dramatize that?
Say we say there was a
time when he was innocent.
There was a time when he...
when he lost something.
Something he loved?
Hmm.
You're off there.
Men like Hearst don't love.
All men love, Orson, or have loved.
What about Marion?
She's just another piece in his collection.
Hmm? She's just like one
of the animals in his zoo.
To Hearst, that is love. "I love you.
I built you a beautiful cage."
It's...
love on his own terms.
No?
Love on your own terms.
Those are the only terms
anybody ever knows.
There's your tragedy.
Orson.
I'm in.
What? I'll write it.
Mank, that is the sweetest
thing you've ever said to me.
I'll call George. I'll get a secretary.
No, I'll get two secretaries.
We can get Houseman.
Don't just sit there. Start writing!
Orson, I just wanna know
when I'm gonna see a script.
How about
a month? Is that acceptable?
Acceptable? No.
Anything more than three weeks
is totally unacceptable.
All right, then fine. What do you want
me to do? I've got New York on the phone.
I've got a fiscal quarter. I've got
Mank and Houseman writing already.
Who? Mankiewicz. Herman Mankiewicz.
Mank?
That'd be a goddamn miracle.
"A toast then, Jedediah,
to love on my own terms,
because those are the only terms
anybody has ever known... his own."
Telegram from the Christ child.
"Schaefer loves the idea. Stop.
Keep writing. Stop. Stop drinking. Stop.
Did you work in the jigsaw
puzzles? Question mark.
Don't stop. Stop. Love you madly, Orson."
Asshole. Stop.
So Gregg Toland
plunks his Oscar down
for "Wuthering Heights"
and says, "Mr. Welles,
I want to shoot your picture."
"Mr. Toland," I said,
"you are the finest
cinematographer in Hollywood.
Why would you want to work
with a stumbling neophyte?"
"Mr. Welles," he replied,
"the only way to learn
anything new is to work
with someone who doesn't know
a damn thing."
Priceless.
The whole point, Hedda, is to use
the language of cinema as though
it's never been spoken before,
to challenge the audience.
Why does anyone go to
the movies in the first place?
To see themselves. To see their own...
bizarre, complex, fascinating
and paradoxical lives...
Orson, talk English, will you?
The most powerful
narrative tool ever invented
and it's fallen into the hands of bankers.
Come on, Louella.
There's got to be something
more to movies than money.
I'll give you an example.
What's your favorite picture?
"Gold Diggers of 1933."
So that the transition
is somehow less painful
as the audience leaves the
theater and returns to reality.
They feel as if their own
lives have been touched upon,
that they have been given...
well, at least a rendition of the truth.
That finally they have
been treated with... Orson.
This is all terribly interesting,
but what's all this I hear
about you and Dolores del Rio?
Now, Orson, you know
I'm just dying to see your picture
and I know it's gonna be boffo.
But the story's about a publisher, right?
You're not doing Hearst, are you?
Good God no. No no.
Our character is more an amalgam really.
Look into my eyes and tell
me you're not doing Hearst.
I'm not doing Hearst.
Well?
It's too long.
Oh. Well, talk to Houseman.
He's the one who wanted wide margins.
The flashback scheme isn't working.
And you have to keep Susan
and Leland separate at the end,
otherwise there's no sense of time lapse.
If you do that, then the logic breaks down,
because... Look, Mank.
It's a brilliant script.
No question. Absolutely brilliant.
It just... it needs
some shaping, that's all.
Yeah. Sure.
We should celebrate. Drinks, Housey.
I still have three weeks
left on my contract.
If you prepare some notes,
I'll do the revisions.
I don't have three weeks.
Schaefer wants it yesterday.
I'll send you the revisions. Oh and, Mank,
we need to change the name. Wha... what?
The title? No no, it's a grand title.
"American." I was thinking
more the character name.
"Charles Foster Craig" doesn't...
have the knives-out poetry
I was looking for. Okay.
I was thinking of Kane.
As in Abel?
K-A-N-E.
One strong syllable, "Kane."
"Craig" is one syllable.
Yes, but it's not a great syllable.
Thanks, Housey.
No, I haven't been drinking
since I started this.
To my invaluable comrades.
Goodbye.
"American"?
It's an awful title, of course, but I...
can't think of anything better.
Someone came up with
"A Sea of Upturned Faces"...
which has a
nice, sort of operatic ring to it.
I thought of "John Citizen, USA,"
but that struck me as a bit Warner Brothers
or God forbid... Capra-esque.
"Citizen." What?
"Citizen Kane."
That's your title. "Citizen Kane."
A "Z" and a "K."
It wouldn't look half bad
on a poster, would it?
Don't get too far ahead of
yourself. These budget projections...
I know, I know. I don't know
what you want me to do.
I've already cut the script
down to the bone. Listen to me,
and don't throw a fit.
I want you to seriously think about doing
"War of the Worlds." Oh
God, George, please, no.
Do "War of the Worlds" as a feature
and everybody'll be happy.
Don't ask me to do this.
You're a 24-year-old novice director.
This is difficult material,
maybe impossible.
And old man Hearst is gonna
come down on us with all he's got.
Think of the free publicity. Oh please.
Look, George, every idea has its moment.
This one is right now. If it's
half as good as I think it is...
It's not a matter of good or
bad. At the end of the day...
Why did you go into this business, George?
Why?
Wasn't there a time when making
pictures meant something to you,
that it mattered just a little bit,
that they were worth taking risks for?
George, If you look into my eyes right now
and tell me to go make "War of the Worlds,"
I will. I'll make it.
And yes, it'll make you money,
and I honestly...
I can't think of a reason why you
should let me make this picture
except that you should.
You know, I'd do anything
to get you the hell out of my office.
Here. Go make the goddamn picture.
All right. Tracking.
Medium shot, close-up.
Reverse.
Medium shot.
Reverse. What lens is that?
24. Open aperture.
We used it on "Long Voyage."
Could you run that reel again, Frank?
That's the one there.
I'm not sure, Mr. Welles. I'll try.
Yeah, Mr. Welles.
You fuck.
You selfish fuck.
A studio pal... if that's not
an oxymoron... sent it to me.
I thought we did it together, Orson.
I thought it was the two of us,
but, you see,
"Citizen Kane" by Orson Welles.
You took my name off the fucking script?
It's a mistake. Some steno
girl obviously made a mistake.
You took my name off the script?
You can't do that, Orson.
I fucking-well can.
I own your goddamn script,
and I can do anything I want.
Don't you forget for one minute that I took
your 350 pages of drunken rambling
and made a movie out of them.
And now I've got to shoot
the son of a bitch,
so thank you. Thank you
very much, but I have all I need.
And stop calling me.
Today...
Today we are beginning a great adventure.
Together, we're going to tell a story
that I think is of some importance.
Now... I won't lie to you.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
Every one of you
has had more time
on a sound stage than I have.
Every one of you knows your job
and I, of course, am still learning mine.
I ask for your patience and your help.
And I ask for one other thing. That you...
allow yourselves to get
a little lost with me...
to travel into the dark
wood of uncertainty,
to take a few wrong turns.
Because along the way, I...
I think we just might discover
something amazing together.
That's swell, Orson.
Now where do you want to put the camera?
It's a director's contract.
Why the hell did you sign this?
This is a suicide note, George.
The bastard's got us by the balls.
I trust him, Harry, deep down.
Have you seen 24? Yeah, I've never seen 24.
I've never seen anything
like 24. I don't believe it.
What?
He shot three scenes, two with dialogue,
when he was only supposed
to be doing camera tests.
George, the man is obviously an anarchist.
Yeah...
who's two days ahead of schedule.
Son of a bitch. 281.
I need you to look at the
camera, right into the lens.
Don't take your eyes off it
till I yell, "Cut."
Thank you, darling. The lines aren't
important right now. You sit right here.
See if you can get your...
sorry, sir. She's fine, thank you!
You just look right into the
camera and you'll be fine.
All right? Great.
I still think we should
under-crank and play it backwards.
When I want your opinion,
Gregg, I'll ask for it.
Collaboration, Orson. Make it fast, Andy!
Orson. Call it, Kit. Kit: Roll camera!
And action!
Oh!
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
That was terrific. Wonderful, Dot, really.
Really wonderful. Top-notch.
Ahem.
On the next one, maybe you
could close your mouth a little bit.
We can go for a slightly
more subtle version.
Well done though.
Right. Well...
Obviously, we need to go again.
I'll...
Be in makeup.
Orson, you cannot just destroy
a camera, for Christ's sakes.
Do you have any idea
what these things cost?
I know, George. I feel terrible about it.
How about this one,
Mr. Welles? That with a black tie.
Coming through. We
borrowed one from next door.
Well, stole it really,
but I don't think
they'll notice till Monday.
Look, I need... Perhaps this, Mr. Welles?
Try it with the other one. I'm sorry.
I need Agnes for another day.
Do you think you could fix it for me?
Good. Look, thanks,
George. I've got to run, okay?
Gregg!
What?
Action. Rosebud?
I'll tell you about Rosebud.
Cut. Let's go again.
Action. Rosebud?
Keep rolling.
Rosebud?
I'll tell you about Rosebud.
Cut. Again.
Orson, you cannot
shoot 56 takes of one line.
It's the climax of the picture, George.
Don't you see?
The audience has been waiting
for two hours to find out what Rosebud is.
If they don't believe they're about to,
we've let them down.
The trick doesn't work.
The whole picture depends
on it! Orson, it's one line.
Cut, print, end of story.
Drunk. What do you care?
You don't care about anything except you.
You just want to persuade
people that you love 'em so much
that they ought to love you back.
Only you want love on your own terms.
Orson?
You want to cut?
No no. No no no, keep rolling.
Right. Sorry, Joe.
Anywhere in your speech.
Ready?
Action.
Drunk. What do you care?
And I'm looking at them, and...
they're looking back at me
waiting for something brilliant.
They ought to love you back.
The only thing is, so am I.
Waiting for some moment of inspiration
that'll finally convince
them all that I'm worth
all the time and trouble and
money they've invested in me.
But I'm not, am I, Mank?
I'm just a fraud who couldn't care
less about anyone except himself.
Isn't that right?
I don't know, Orson.
Is that what you think?
I don't know what I think.
That's the problem.
I just know that I miss you and...
I was wondering if you
might consider coming back.
First you wanted me out. I'm out.
I'm sorry.
This is the shooting script
we've been using every day.
I just... I thought you'd like to see it.
Did I ever tell you about my father?
He was a drunk, my dad.
When my mother died,
I was obliged to accompany him
on his business trips... Europe, China.
I suppose in one sense it
was a way of seeing the world.
Richard Head Welles
and his amazing boy genius.
But he would drink, and
it would get embarrassing
and well, I... I began to resent him
because I was so sparkling, you see.
So when we got home
and I went off to school,
I... decided to cut him off.
I turned my back on him because...
I couldn't have him
getting in the way of my genius.
He would write me letters
that I would never answer.
He would call me
and I would ignore his calls.
When he eventually visited me at school,
I would manage to find myself
conveniently indisposed.
When I finally did see him
again, he was in a coffin.
I was 15.
And...
all of a sudden, he wasn't the...
the embarrassing drunk anymore.
He was my father.
He was the man who showed me the world.
Have you shot the beach scene yet?
No. Good.
It occurred to me the other day
that we're starting that scene
completely incorrectly.
We should... no, we should...
Closer.
Closer. Stop.
Can you see my shoes?
Yeah, but we lose your head.
Joe! Do me a favor
and stand in here, will you?
Look, Gregg, it has to be lower.
This is
"the" scene. We have to look up
at these two men as pillars
soaring to the sky,
towering virtues in combat...
Orson! We've been through this.
We can't get the camera any lower,
so find another goddamn shot!
Orson,
what the fuck are you doing?
Looks like he's tearing out the floor.
It's 4:00 in the goddamn morning.
My favorite time of day, Gregg.
I've set back the
sacred cause of reform, is that it?
All right.
If that's the way they want it.
People have made their choice.
It's obvious the people
prefer Jim Gettys to me.
You talk about the people
as though you own them,
as though they belong to you.
Orson, I'm so goddamn tired.
Keep rolling,
Gregg. I can't remember the lines.
For Christ's sake. Come on, Joe.
You're drunk, you're angry. Now use it.
We're not all hopped up
on Benzedrine, Orson.
Some of us humans need sleep.
That's good, Joe.
Now give me the goddamn line.
I know you've been waiting for
weeks to say something to me.
Don't tell me you've gone soft now.
You don't care about anything except you.
You just want to persuade
people that you love 'em so much
that they ought to love you back.
Only you want love on your own terms.
A toast then, Jedediah...
to love on my own terms.
Those are the only terms
anybody ever knows...
his own.
Cut. Print.
What's next, Gregg?
That's it, Orson. We're done.
What? We're done.
Well...
How about
a real drink, then, hmm?
Mr. Welles, compliments of Mr. Schaefer.
Daylight. Hey.
Oh! Oh!
Orson? Hedda here.
Oh, Hedda,
what a surprise. You naughty boy.
What? You told me
that I would positively be
the first human soul
to see your masterpiece
and here I read in the "Reporter"
there's a screening
for the magazines tonight.
That's only a rough cut. Oh, rough cut.
Been there, Orson, know the drill.
See you tonight. Hedda, Hedda, I...
Little prick.
This is awful. There's no music.
The sound isn't even synced. Relax.
They've all seen a rough cut before.
I know, but why Hedda, George?
The magazines are one thing...
If Hedda says she's coming, you
just mix up a batch of martinis and pray.
What did that mean?
Oh, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Yes?
Hello. I am so delighted
you could take my call.
I just wanted to let you know
that I saw this Orson
Welles picture last night.
First screening ever, don't you know?
And, Mr. Hearst, I just
don't understand something.
I do not understand
why Louella has not told you
that it's all about you.
It's about me? Yes.
In detail? Yes.
Thank you for this information.
No, it's my pleasure, sir.
Yes?
Mr. Schaefer,
Miss Louella Parsons is here.
Here? As in right outside? Yes sir.
Tell her to wait a minute. Yes...
Shit.
Schaefer. Louella.
I gotta see this Welles picture.
I was just fixing something to drink.
You drink at 10:00 a.m.? No, I meant...
And I want to see the picture today.
Well, that may be a tad difficult.
Oh, cut the malarkey, buddy.
The boss himself wants me
to see the picture today.
He asked you personally? That's right.
Hearst? Bingo. I'll be back at noon.
Oh joy.
You will continue
with your singing, Susan.
I don't propose to have
myself made ridiculous.
You don't propose to
have yourself made ridiculous?
What about me?! I'm the
one that's gotta do the singing!
I'm the one that gets the raspberries!
Why don't you let me alone?!
It's all you.
The war with Pulitzer, the castle, Marion.
How so? The jigsaw puzzles
and... the career.
The man spending a fortune
to make her a star.
Only it's opera and not movies.
And... Yes?
The drinking.
Go on. The whole picture's a mess.
Jumps all over the place. Very arty.
It's all built around this sled
called Rosebud that the guy
had when he was a kid.
What did you say?
Yeah, that's the guy's last words.
They're about a sled he had
as a kid called Rosebud.
Makes no sense at all.
Rosebud. Yeah.
So our life is the subject for mockery.
All of it.
Every personal detail.
Thank you for your time.
Thank you, sir.
Miss Parsons.
I have one additional question for you.
Sir?
Why were we not informed of this sooner?
Sir?
I pay you a good deal of money
to be my eyes and ears in Hollywood,
do I not?
If you cannot provide this simple service,
then you are of no use to me.
But, sir... Please be quiet.
This young man
has made a motion picture
detailing my life.
This motion picture was made
at a not-insignificant studio
and you knew nothing about it.
He lied to me. He looked me in the face
and told me it wasn't about you.
And how do you feel when you are lied to?
I want blood.
Good.
Retain that feeling.
Let it nourish you.
It shall nourish us both.
Randolph. Louie.
I hope you don't mind
my popping in like this.
Not at all. Come on. Sit down.
What a wretched place this is.
I never come to town
without feeling filthy.
You really must buy that piece of property
near the castle and come north.
I wish I could, but... business.
Which is why I'm here.
You've heard of this
"Citizen Kane" picture?
Yeah. RKO. Mmm.
Evidently it details the exploits
of a newspaper publisher,
much like myself.
Entirely too much like myself.
No one wants their
private life paraded about
for the curiosity
of the moviegoing public...
if you catch my drift.
I don't see how the release of this picture
will do anyone any good really.
So sue him.
That's what I'd do.
Thank you, Louie.
I'll keep it in mind.
Say, while I'm in town,
why don't the two of us
drop by the L.A. Country Club
and play 18 holes?
Hmm?
Maybe we could get Mr. Warner to join us.
And Mr. Cohn,
and Mr. Selznick
and Mr. Goldwyn.
The club is restricted.
Oh, so it is.
How silly of me.
I sometimes forget that you're all Jews.
Apparently quite a number of people forget
if they ever knew.
See what you can do about
this "Citizen Kane" picture.
Will you, Louie?
That's right, fella.
And Mr. Hearst has authorized me to tell you
that you're looking at the
most beautiful lawsuit in history
if you release this picture.
He'll bleed your little studio dry,
and you can all go on back to New York
and do Shakespeare with the boy wonder.
Can I talk to Hearst?
You are talking to him.
The "Journal" was particularly
harsh on Roosevelt today.
You really
oughta lay off him, Pops.
He is the president, you know.
He's a Bolshevik.
He'll have us at war with
Germany within the year.
I think I'll run that picture
of him in a wheelchair.
Please don't.
What do you think?
Sir? We got the call.
Mm-hmm?
Thank you, Joseph.
What is it, Pops? Nothing
for you to worry about.
What is it?
The SEC has turned down my request
for relief on the debts.
How much?
It's not something... How much?
$125 million.
We're $125 million in debt?
Yes.
Wow.
How does one get $125 million in debt?
One... buys things.
Oh.
We open on Monument Valley.
Towering stalagmites
reaching towards heaven.
We track in on a single
solitary figure.
A quiet man. Come here.
What did I tell you?
Who is he? ...but I want it cold.
I don't want a hot sound.
No vibrato. No vibrato.
You wanna do "The Life of Christ"?
You have to admit, it has
a built-in audience, Gregg.
We shoot it like a western...
vibrant, stark, modern.
All on location in the Mojave Desert.
Hey, Gregg. His next
picture... he wants to play Christ.
Yeah, I hope he's planning to start
with the crucifixion. You
read Louella?
I am trying to work.
Sorry, Bernie, we'll take it outside.
It sounds wonderful.
So what am I today,
a puny upstart or a spoiled dilettante?
It wouldn't be that. She
probably can't spell "dilettante."
"And how is the country
to feel when this industry
continues to employ bedraggled foreigners
and swarthy refugees
instead of real Americans?
Doesn't Hollywood know
there's a depression on?
Don't real Americans deserve work?"
At least she's off "Kane."
Off "Kane"?
Orson, this is code language
to the studio bosses.
"Bedraggled foreigners
and swarthy refugees"?
Who the hell do you think that could be?
I don't know. Peter Lorre?
Who owns this town? Who
runs every studio? Jews.
Okay, they're Jews. So what?
They're Jews, just like you.
Just listen, you idiot.
This is just the first shot.
The next time, she will
actually use the "J" word
and the studio bosses will do anything
to keep that word from going into print.
And Hearst knows it. What
are they gonna do, Mank?
Are they gonna kill me?
Is that what you think?
Why don't you ask
Thomas Ince that question?
Sorry, Mr. Welles,
we need to be able to hear.
Orson. Orson.
He knows. Do you
understand what that means?
That he knows? He knows.
What are you afraid of, Mank?
It's done, it's in the can.
There's nothing they can do.
Yeah, and it will stay in the can.
That film will never come out.
Hearst will not allow it. The
studio heads will not allow it.
That film will never see the light of day.
Are you on their side, Mank? What?
That's what it sounds like
to me. Are you on their side?
I mean, for Christ's sakes,
you wrote the goddamn script.
You fought for the credit.
That's right, and I told you
that this would happen, didn't I?
Didn't I tell you? Huh?
Right. Listen, I got my
check. You got yours.
Let's move on. I will not move on!
Who are they, Mank?!
Who are these men that
you're so afraid of?!
Who are these tiny little fucking men?!
They're accountants.
We're ready. You wanna hear it?
Switch it off.
Switch it off!
Would everybody please leave?
They got us, didn't they, Pops?
I mean, they nailed us, didn't they?
The crazy old man and his whore.
Marion. Bought and paid for
just like one of his goddamn statues.
At least in the movie, he marries her.
That picture... I-I'm not that woman.
I know what I could've been
and I know what I gave up to be with you.
I mean, they've even got
the goddamn jigsaw puzzles in there, Pops.
Why? Why did they do that to us?
Why would they do that to us?
I don't know. I don't know.
Has he no idea of the
power that controls him?
Get me Louella Parsons.
Now.
Fancies himself an artist. That's not art.
It's an
abomination. The man's a charlatan,
a gossipmonger and a fraud.
Miss Parsons, I have Mr. Hearst.
Miss Parsons.
Use the file.
So what have we got here, I.B.?
We got faggots and commies and junkies.
We got movie stars screwing
niggers and little girls.
We got Jews.
We got MGM, Warner Brothers,
Columbia, Disney and Fox.
We got Hollywood.
What do you want? Kill "Citizen Kane."
How? I don't give a shit.
Now, the boss has been
working on some stuff,
and I've been working on some stuff.
Now I want all of you boys
working on some stuff,
'cause if it looks like this
movie is ever gonna come out,
I start running down the
street with these pictures
like a screaming woman
with her throat cut, you follow?
Joe, how bad is it?
Ms. Davies... Come on, Joe, how bad is it?
It's bad.
I've been thinking about
the "Examiner" in Chicago.
It's just not making any
headway against the "Tribune."
Circulation is way down.
I think we should buy the "Tribune,"
eliminate the competition.
And I'm starting a campaign
against Mr. Welles
and his tawdry little film.
Yeah.
Sure, Pops. Mmm.
What do you want me to do? I'm telling you,
no one's willing to open this movie.
So we open in Dallas
and Detroit, Kalamazoo.
It doesn't matter. For God's sakes, George.
We could show it in a circus tent!
Come on, Orson. We have to go public.
If they see "Kane," he's exposed.
The film is our best defense!
If we get the press on
our side... He is the press!
God damn it.
George, wait.
George.
You don't understand that the stockholders
in New York are scared shitless.
We start a publicity campaign
against Hearst now
and he'll destroy every
RKO picture that's out there.
I'm about this far away
from being fired myself,
and I'm the only friend you
have in the world right now.
So you've got to trust that I'll do
what I can. We have to fight them.
We have to go on the radio... Radio? You
think this is some kind of a fucking game?
Do you have any idea
how many people RKO employs?
You wanna shoot yourself in the head,
you just go right ahead
and do it. I can't stop you.
But you're not gonna drag
this company down with you.
George, we need to make a statement.
We have to tell people
what's he's trying to do.
There's not gonna be any statements!
I'm talking about jobs.
I'm talking about food on the table.
No, you're not. You're talking about
letting them bury my picture.
"My picture." "My picture."
I'm so sick and tired
of hearing you say that.
It's my picture too.
It's his life.
Did you ever think about that?
How can you defend him,
George, after what he's done to us?
He's a monster. He's a soulless monster!
Oh, come on. Who are you kidding, kid?
Huh? You're the soulless monster!
George, please, no.
George, listen to me. Orson, Orson!
It's all I've got! Orson!
It's all I've got, George.
Whose fault is that?
Explain it to me then.
There is nothing to explain.
Millions of dollars a year
on art and statues
and there's nothing to explain?
I will not defend my life to you.
I'm not asking you
to defend anything, Pops,
but we are in a pickle here
and we need to talk about it.
We are in no pickle, as you
so euphemistically put it.
You gotta wake up now, Pops.
There is nothing more to discuss.
You don't have any money left, okay?
That's what no one else
will tell you. You are broke.
You spent it all. You cannot buy
the goddamn "Chicago Tribune."
You can't buy a goddamn thing.
You are being excessively
theatrical, Marion.
As it just so happens,
I need the "Tribune."
But that's just it. You don't
need it. You don't need any of it.
I mean, that statue, for instance...
how much did that cost?
It's 17th century from
Avignon. That's in France.
I know where fucking Avignon is, okay?
There is no need for you to
use that kind of language with me.
Did you need it? Did you need any of it?
I wanted it.
And there is a difference
between "want" and "need."
Not to me!
Why? Why? Just so you could show
what a big man you are? Is that it?
That's right. You've captured me exactly.
And so, good night.
Where are you go...
Hey, Pops,
you will... you will not
walk out on me this time!
You are repellent to me when you drink.
Well, tough shit,
because we have to talk about this.
You are crude,
slovenly and unattractive,
and this discussion is at an end.
Fuck you, Mr. Kane.
I will not have this in my home.
I'm just trying to understand,
Pops. No, you're not.
You want to condemn me, like everyone else.
You want to point your finger
at the pathetic old man
grown lunatic with his spending,
trapped in his ridiculous castle,
still fighting old battles
he will never win. No, Pops.
There is nothing to understand.
I am a man who could've been great...
but was not.
I was 18 when we met. He was 50.
Really?
I just saw that big old gold ring
and I just grabbed right on 'cause
he was gonna make me a star.
And he did.
Yeah.
I wanted to do comedies.
Silly stuff, you know?
But Pops,
he doesn't get comedies too good.
He kept putting me in those period pieces.
Carole, you know this...
"Citizen Kane" movie?
The one that's supposed to be about Pops
and everything,
and the character of Susan Alexander
is supposed to be me? Marion,
everyone knows you're not like that.
But that's just the thing.
I am like that.
This little girl comes from nowhere
and meets this...
this guy.
He rules the world, you know?
And-and-and...
somewhere along the line she gets lost.
Thinking like that
is only gonna drive you nuts.
You were a great star.
You had a good run.
That ought to be enough.
But all of a sudden it's not.
You know?
It's hell when you gotta
look back and you say...
"What I could've been."
Can I help you?
My Lord.
How much for all of it?
♪ In an armchair by the fireside ♪
♪ Just big enough for two ♪
♪ We'll be happy... ♪
Of the Nazi weapons
of destruction. ♪ Oh so happy... ♪
It is unmistakably
apparent to all of us
that unless the advance of Hitlerism
is forcibly checked now
the western hemisphere...
♪ A little kiss or two ♪
♪ In the gloaming by the fireside ♪
♪ With you. ♪
You got my memo. What do we do?
He's a fucking pisher.
Why does Hearst give a shit?
It's enough that he does.
Would Louella really do it?
- In a New York minute.
- I say to hell with Louella,
to hell with Hearst. This hits all of us.
It's our business
and we can't take it lying down.
We all didn't make
"Gone with the Wind," you know?
Some of us can't afford your principles.
We gotta look at this checkbook-wise.
Who isn't hurting already?
All this "Jew" talk?
Now he's boycotting RKO ads.
Next week it's Warners,
Fox or Columbia, right? Goddamn right.
He's got us nailed.
Dates, times...
photographs, for God's sake.
I don't mean to be funny, but...
what could he have on Mickey Mouse?
He's got you so tied in with J.
Edgar Hoover and America First
you might as well put on a brown shirt
and kiss those happy little kiddies goodbye.
Relax, Walt. At least he don't
have you screwing Snow White.
I got fuckin' Errol Flynn on my payroll.
You're a smart man, Louie. I suspect
you didn't call us all here without a plan.
Give over. We will buy this movie...
and we will destroy it.
We will assemble a fund between us
and we will go to George Schaefer...
And we will buy the negative
and every print of "Citizen Kane"
and we will burn them.
If I don't hear an objection to this agenda
in the next five seconds, I'll
assume the motion is carried.
Very well.
What does it profit a man
to gain the whole world
if he loses his soul?
And John the Baptist
says, "A night with Rita Hayworth?"
George! Just the man we're looking for.
Look. Not a single
scene shot in the studio.
Of course, you're gonna have to help me with
accounting... I think you should sit down.
I don't want to sit down,
George. All right, don't sit down.
The bosses of the other studios
have made an offer of $800,000
to buy the negative and all the prints...
to burn them.
They went to the stockholders in New York.
I've been talking to Swanbeck.
I think they're going to take it.
Hmm.
You shit.
You treacherous little shit. Orson!
This isn't George's fault. Shut up, Mank.
You wanna take my movie, George?
Is that it? Is that what you came here for?
Okay, take it.
But why not take it all, George, hmm?
Why not take everything, George? Easy!
Everything I am, everything
I could be is in that film.
Take it, George. Here, I
offer it up to you. Take it.
No, George, wait.
George, wait, please.
George, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. Look, I am.
George, please just... just...
give me one more chance.
Let me go to New York. Please, George,
let me go talk to the
stockbrokers and I promise you...
I promise you, you will never see me again.
Ace of spades.
Ace of spades.
Good afternoon.
Today a man from Germany
invaded Greece.
He's already swallowed Poland,
Denmark, Norway
and Belgium.
He's bombing London as I speak.
Everywhere this man goes,
he crushes the life
and the freedom of his subjects.
He sews yellow stars on their lapels.
He takes their voices.
In this country, we...
we still have our voices.
We can argue with them
and we can sing and we
can be heard because we are...
for the moment... free.
No one can tell us
what to say or how to say it.
Can they?
Gentlemen...
I am one voice.
That is all. My picture is one voice.
One view, one opinion, nothing more.
Men are dying in Europe now,
and Americans soon will be,
so that we can surmount
the tyrants and the dictators.
Will you send a message across America
that one man
can take away our voices?
So...
who is Mr. Hearst...
and who is Mr. Welles?
Well, Mr. Hearst built a palace
of brick and mortar
and little wars and corpses piled high.
Mr. Welles built a palace of illusion.
It's...
what we call a matte painting.
It's a camera trick. It's nothing.
Nothing but a dream.
Today...
you have the chance
to let the dream triumph.
Thank you.
We open May 1st.
It was a pretty speech, Orson,
but you got lucky.
Hearst is going bankrupt.
It's all over the wire.
Pretty speeches change the world, George.
You meant it, right?
Does it matter?
Yes!
It matters.
We will be immediately closing 12
of the papers and the wire services.
And we will be liquidating some
other assets as soon as possible...
most of the land in Mexico
and your collection of art and antiquities.
Mr. Hearst spent his life
collecting this art.
We've been in touch
with Gimbels in New York
and they've agreed to hold a special sale.
They've given over an entire
floor to the merchandise.
You'll have to go there in person
to sign the bill of sale, by the way.
We don't know yet whether
we'll be able to retain the castle.
The land has some capital.
We might be able to keep it on
as an investment.
Maybe break it up into
smaller units for housing.
When will it come out?
We can't keep it a secret, sir.
Once we announce the Gimbels'
sale and start liquidating the assets.
Let it go, Pops. Let it go.
Mr. Hearst, I'm not sure
if you remember who I am.
My name's Orson Welles...
I know who you are.
Well, then you probably also know
that I've got a picture
opening tomorrow night.
Be happy to arrange some
tickets for you, if you'd like to come.
I wonder...
have you any idea the damage you've done?
Do you?
Intimately.
For every sin you've placed on my head,
I could give you a hundred others.
But I believe that a man's private life
should not be made public property.
Despite what you may have
read in your papers,
I'd like to think my film was more than
a cheap expose of one man's life.
And what would you call it?
My man gains the world and loses his soul.
I suppose in some circles
that would be considered
a fair exchange.
It's not my life you sabotaged
with your film, Mr. Welles.
My battle with the world is almost over.
Yours, I'm afraid,
has just begun.
Good luck, Mr. Welles.
Kane would've taken the tickets!
It's my birthday this
week. Did you know that, George?
26. Happy birthday.
Ain't it
the bee's knees to see
all the high muckety-mucks dolled up
like Aztecs for human sacrifice?
You gonna watch? I know how it ends:
Rosebud's the sled. Mank!
Rosebud's the sled.
Come on. It doesn't matter.
They'll hate it, anyway.
Not enough close-ups,
too many New York actors.
Knock it off, Mank. Relax, kid.
You made a great picture.
Now we have to convince them.
So does this mean you're in
for "The Life of Christ"?
I got the axe this morning.
Oh, you're kidding?
It's all right.
I made my choices, same as you.
This whole Hearst nightmare...
who's gonna remember it?
Nobody.
We'll be lucky if they
remember the goddamn movie.
What have I done? Come on.
He'll land on his feet. He always does.
Let's get a drink.
♪ Still I can't get no place with you ♪
♪ 'Cause you're so supreme... ♪
We pulled it off, didn't we, Mank?
Depends on what side you're on.
♪ I dream, dream day and night of you... ♪
Look, Mank, I... I never meant to...
Sure you did. Anyway,
was it worth it?
I don't know.
I can't imagine doing it any other way.
I suppose it's just my character.
It won't be easy, having
made your masterpiece at 26.
Is that what you think?
That I'm just gonna burn out
at the ripe old age of 26?
All stars burn out, Orson.
It's the flame that counts.
To the flame.
To the flame.
Come into the light.
Never stand in the shadows.
You were made for the light.
Always remember that.
Now turn around and make a wish.
Go on.
You must blow out your candles.
One breath now.
That's all you get... one chance.
Are you ready?
Now.
He came to the
town of magic and dreams,
a flashing star, blazing
through the firmament of illusion.
He was 24 years old
and his name was Orson Welles.
Sound the trumpets,
unfurl the banners, Hollywood,
the boy wonder has arrived.
May 6th, 1915, the prodigy makes his debut
on the world stage in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
May 7th, he speaks
his first words, and they are
"I am a genius."
Subsequent developments
confirm this opinion.
At 18 he goes to New York,
the cauldron of the world.
Watch out, cauldron. Orson has arrived.
Like Hannibal over the Alps,
the boy genius invades the Great White Way
with production after production.
And then he takes to the airwaves...
step two in his plan for global domination.
This is the end now.
They're running toward the East River.
Thousands of them, dropping in like rats.
"The War of the Worlds" broadcast
sends this nation spinning into a frenzy.
Yes, the boy wonder has fooled us all.
We had no idea any of this was happening.
I-I...
I feel just horrible.
Mr. Welles, can you
come over here. Mr. Welles!
Mr. Welles, over here!
How long can it possibly be
before the sunny land of dreams
tries to harness the combustible power
of this showman extraordinaire?
The winner in the Welles derby
is George Schaefer,
the head of RKO Pictures.
With a contract unimaginable
before the days of Orson,
Mr. Schaefer captures the
whirlwind, snares the beast.
Eyebrows raise and jaws drop
when terms of the deal come forth.
The boy wonder can write,
direct and star in his own projects.
The studio? Well, they
just pay the bills. Oh!
So cometh Orson.
He met the biggest of the big
and charmed his way through the town.
From the Brown Derby to the Copacabana,
from Louella Parsons to Hedda Hopper...
those rival maidens of Hollywood gossip.
And so today, almost a year
after his arrival,
we leave the boy wonder still hard at work
developing his much-anticipated
first feature.
We're waiting, Orson.
Genius? Who does that
cocksucker think he is?
Word is glory boy's
all finished, Mr. Mayer.
Can't come up with a movie.
They're laying bets over at RKO
this deal ends up with him
never doing a picture. Huh.
Back to New York he goes. Yeah.
After RKO boots him,
let's pick him up cheap.
Have him do that "War of
the Worlds" crap as a feature.
It's money in the bank for us
and bingo, no more genius.
This is Hollywood,
junior. What did you expect?
And you keep coming up
with the same elitist crap.
Enough, Mank.
God, I've heard this from Schaefer
and everyone else at RKO. I
don't need to hear it from you.
"Heart of Darkness," million-dollar budget.
No one wants to see that.
That's nonsense and you know it.
Orson, what do you think movies are
about? Don't start this, Mank, please.
No, I'm interested. What do
you think movies are about?
Life's rich pageant.
Life's rich pageant, my ass.
People are sick to death of life.
They want make-believe.
Okay? They want Tarzan and Jane,
not "Tristan and Isolde."
You know what they want, Mank?
Magic.
You know what
your job is in Hollywood?
Put butts in seats.
Let me see that.
It's all about selling
popcorn and Pepsi-Colas.
Not for me it isn't.
Then you're about to become
the youngest never-was
in the history of Hollywood.
Better than the oldest has-been. Is it?
Okay, Mank.
What are we going to write?
I don't know. You tell me.
You're the boy wonder.
Well?
Jesus Christ. Come on.
The old man doesn't cotton to lateness.
Good evening, Mr. Hearst.
My name is Orson Welles.
Orson!
So we set traps everywhere, right?
And every morning,
the traps would be sprung
but there would be no mice.
What? Woman: So one night I noticed
Pops here getting out of bed...
"Sigmund
Freud: Life and Times."
Oh, that's a great idea.
Just got your ass kicked on Joseph Conrad
and now it's the id and the superego.
I'll be goddamned if he
isn't springing the traps
and leaving cheese for the goddamn mice.
You... you and that guy Disney,
in love with the damn rats.
Okay then... Manolete.
Who?
Manolete, the great Spanish bullfighter.
Imagine Clark here in a
glittering suit of lights...
on the Andalusian plains.
Mr. Welles is attempting semaphore.
Bullfighting, Miss Davies.
Oh. Is dear Mank your bull?
My factotum, comrade-in-arms, ally.
Flunky, pimp.
Writer. That too.
You fight many bulls
there in New York, Orson?
No, when I was a tender lad,
my father and I made a tour of
the grand boulevards of Europe.
When we were in Spain
I had the good fortune
to sit at the knee of Manolete,
the greatest bullfighter of the age.
"What is the matador's
greatest enemy?" he asked me.
And of course I naively
responded, "The bull."
No, the bull is merely his adversary.
His greatest enemy is his own fear.
You see, to kill the bull,
one must first learn to think like him.
Having said that, he strode forth
gallantly into the ring. He flourished.
Flourished again.
Suddenly the bull charged.
It thundered towards him,
its calamitous hooves
shaking the earth beneath Manolete's feet.
And as it was almost upon him,
he stepped to the side,
flourished again and struck.
And when the dust cleared...
the sword was gone.
Vanished in the bloody eye of the beast.
That is barbaric.
Of all man's sadism...
none is more depraved
than his cruelty to animals.
Oh.
In Spain, sir, the cruelty would be
in denying the beast a fighting end...
as in your magnificent zoo, for instance.
And who are you, sir?
Orson Welles, sir.
Ah, the actor.
Mmm. And director.
I wish you luck.
In Hollywood,
the bull and the matador
are both slaughtered.
Why the crack about the zoo?
Why not just let it lie?
Because he's a hypocrite,
Mank. Yeah, so what?
Listen, I like to come here.
I want to be asked back.
Why? You have no place here.
Because Marion's my friend.
Did you hear what he said to me?
Preaching against man's cruelty to animals?
I mean, come on. Listen, come here.
I want to show you something.
The old man owns
the biggest publishing empire in the world.
When you have all that,
you can preach whatever you want.
Like appeasing Hitler.
A lot of people agree with him, Orson.
He tells them what they want to hear.
As if that was something to be proud of.
Can't smoke here.
Of course. How could I forget?
No smoking, no drinking...
no moral vices whatsoever.
I suppose keeping an alcoholic mistress
half your age is considered a virtue here.
The old man has
his own way of doing things.
I'll say.
Ah.
Oh God, these parties are awful.
You need to
get out of here, Rapunzel.
That's why he has the parties.
He says it's like bringing the world to me.
But it's not so bad here.
I mean, what girl doesn't
want to live in a castle?
Hey, Mr. Welles
certainly is a caution, isn't he?
And attractive, in a... hammy sort of way.
Listen. Why don't you come down
and stay with us for a few days?
Just tell the old man...
He needs me here.
So how big is this monstrosity? The estate?
Half the size of Rhode
Island. You're kidding me.
No. It's the place God would have built
if he'd had the money. Hello.
Manky.
Will you dance with me?
I'll dance with you. Oh good. Thank you.
Ooh. You've been naughty. Can you smell it?
So are you ever gonna do a picture?
Oh God, not you too,
Carole.
It's gonna be fine, Orson.
You're gonna do just great.
You're just scared.
Am I? Mm-hmm.
Hmm.
And what am I scared of, Carole?
Of being found out.
Of not being a genius.
God damn it, Pops. You gotta do something.
There's no need for that
kind of language. God damn it.
Orson. Hmm?
You missed the beat.
Oh!
I've got it. I know
what we're going to do.
Imagine a man who has shaped his time.
A titanic figure of limitless ambition.
A man with an empire at his feet,
controlling the perceptions
of everyone beneath him.
A modern feudal lord.
The great American biography,
a journey into the heart of the beast.
Oh no. Don't you see it?
He spent a lifetime making
entertainment out of other people's lives,
and now we turn the tables on him.
It's perfect! It's perfectly suicidal.
How long have I been looking for the answer
when all this time it's been
right here under my nose?
Every day in the newspapers, on the radio,
waiting for us in that ridiculous castle.
Orson, stop stop. Waiting
to be... I've talked to Arnie.
He says it's all right.
He says he's a public figure
who sought out that
publicity, so legally he can't...
Listen to me, you child.
He doesn't worry about
legalities. Do you know why?
Because he has more power than
you could even begin to imagine.
All the more reason to do it!
'Cause he insulted you at a dinner party?
Because he's a hypocrite.
Because he's a political turncoat.
He claims to care about the common man
when nothing could be
further from the truth.
Well, he's a journalist. He owns Hollywood.
We're the shit on his shoes.
You better go back to Broadway, kiddo.
I expected more from you, Mank.
Yeah, me too, but I got used to it.
How does that feel, getting used to it?
How does that feel, going up to the palace
and amusing all the lords and
ladies with the same old stories
they've heard a hundred times before?
How does it feel being
the ugly little monkey
they keep around to amuse themselves?
I remember a man who wrote,
a writer who dazzled me
with his wit and insight
who hasn't had a credit in four years
because he's been so furiously busy
wasting himself amusing his keepers,
because he's a sycophant
and because he's been thrown
out of every studio in Hollywood
and no one will hire him
because he's a drunk.
Which reminds me... I'm sorry, Mank,
you must be thirsty. Here. Have another.
I wouldn't want to stand
in the way of progress.
Do you honestly expect me
to believe you care about me?
You don't give a fuck
about anyone but yourself.
Hearst was right about you.
You're just another goddamn actor.
Mank, I'm sorry.
Orson, I don't have it in me anymore.
I used to have dreams too,
but that's over now.
It doesn't have to be. It is.
No studio would hire me. I'll hire you.
I just know this is the
story. Everything in my life...
all the potential, all the promise...
has led to this moment,
to right now, to you and me.
Orson...
he will destroy us.
Take my hand, Mank.
We'll make history.
We'll scorch the earth.
We will astonish them all.
Notes for a novel.
My great modern tragedy...
on Hearst. You're joking.
I guess great minds think alike, kid.
You've never told me about this before.
I haven't even looked at it in 10 years.
More importantly, I never
showed it to anyone else.
You know why? Because I wanna go on living.
Time to let go of that ambition, old boy.
"Rosebud."
What?
"Marion told Carole Lombard
that the old man's pet name
for it is 'Rosebud.'"
My God, Mank.
He has a pet name for her pussy
and you never told me?
Orson, you can't do a picture
where you have a pet name for a pussy.
In fact, you can't do a picture
where you have any name for a pussy.
Oh, I think we can find a way.
You just don't get it, do you?
Wh-why do you think
I scrapped all this stuff?
You can't scrap this. It's too good.
This is gold, Mank. Gold. You want gold?
I'll give you some gold. This is a story
you won't find written down in there
or anywhere else for that matter.
It's 1924 or so...
and Hearst is giving a birthday party
for an old Hollywood producer
called Thomas Ince...
on his yacht.
And all the usuals are there
Charlie Chaplin, Louella, et cetera.
And at this time
Marion was screwing everyone,
and so she slips off with Chaplin.
Hearst sees this.
He goes absolutely nuts.
He's there on the deck with a revolver,
just blasting away like Tom Mix.
And he hits Thomas Ince
right in the chest and he is dead.
Dead.
The empire snaps into action.
Ince is cremated lickety-split.
No police. No inquest.
The Hearst papers
cover it up nice and quiet.
The next morning, Hearst offers Louella
a lifetime contract
to keep her all hush-hush.
Now you tell me.
You still want to take a shaft
to a man like that?
Are you kidding me?
More than ever.
It's supposed to be Siam.
Some kind of Balinese temple.
Does it look like a temple to you?
Hmm.
Marion, I've spoken to Millicent.
She said no...
again.
She believes it would put
her soul in peril.
Divorce is a very serious sin, evidently.
It's bullshit. It's bullshit.
She just cares about the money, you know?
She thinks that I'll make
you cut her out of the will.
I do wish you wouldn't use that language.
He's a monster,
Mank, an unfeeling monster,
like all great men. Yeah,
but how do we dramatize that?
Say we say there was a
time when he was innocent.
There was a time when he...
when he lost something.
Something he loved?
Hmm.
You're off there.
Men like Hearst don't love.
All men love, Orson, or have loved.
What about Marion?
She's just another piece in his collection.
Hmm? She's just like one
of the animals in his zoo.
To Hearst, that is love. "I love you.
I built you a beautiful cage."
It's...
love on his own terms.
No?
Love on your own terms.
Those are the only terms
anybody ever knows.
There's your tragedy.
Orson.
I'm in.
What? I'll write it.
Mank, that is the sweetest
thing you've ever said to me.
I'll call George. I'll get a secretary.
No, I'll get two secretaries.
We can get Houseman.
Don't just sit there. Start writing!
Orson, I just wanna know
when I'm gonna see a script.
How about
a month? Is that acceptable?
Acceptable? No.
Anything more than three weeks
is totally unacceptable.
All right, then fine. What do you want
me to do? I've got New York on the phone.
I've got a fiscal quarter. I've got
Mank and Houseman writing already.
Who? Mankiewicz. Herman Mankiewicz.
Mank?
That'd be a goddamn miracle.
"A toast then, Jedediah,
to love on my own terms,
because those are the only terms
anybody has ever known... his own."
Telegram from the Christ child.
"Schaefer loves the idea. Stop.
Keep writing. Stop. Stop drinking. Stop.
Did you work in the jigsaw
puzzles? Question mark.
Don't stop. Stop. Love you madly, Orson."
Asshole. Stop.
So Gregg Toland
plunks his Oscar down
for "Wuthering Heights"
and says, "Mr. Welles,
I want to shoot your picture."
"Mr. Toland," I said,
"you are the finest
cinematographer in Hollywood.
Why would you want to work
with a stumbling neophyte?"
"Mr. Welles," he replied,
"the only way to learn
anything new is to work
with someone who doesn't know
a damn thing."
Priceless.
The whole point, Hedda, is to use
the language of cinema as though
it's never been spoken before,
to challenge the audience.
Why does anyone go to
the movies in the first place?
To see themselves. To see their own...
bizarre, complex, fascinating
and paradoxical lives...
Orson, talk English, will you?
The most powerful
narrative tool ever invented
and it's fallen into the hands of bankers.
Come on, Louella.
There's got to be something
more to movies than money.
I'll give you an example.
What's your favorite picture?
"Gold Diggers of 1933."
So that the transition
is somehow less painful
as the audience leaves the
theater and returns to reality.
They feel as if their own
lives have been touched upon,
that they have been given...
well, at least a rendition of the truth.
That finally they have
been treated with... Orson.
This is all terribly interesting,
but what's all this I hear
about you and Dolores del Rio?
Now, Orson, you know
I'm just dying to see your picture
and I know it's gonna be boffo.
But the story's about a publisher, right?
You're not doing Hearst, are you?
Good God no. No no.
Our character is more an amalgam really.
Look into my eyes and tell
me you're not doing Hearst.
I'm not doing Hearst.
Well?
It's too long.
Oh. Well, talk to Houseman.
He's the one who wanted wide margins.
The flashback scheme isn't working.
And you have to keep Susan
and Leland separate at the end,
otherwise there's no sense of time lapse.
If you do that, then the logic breaks down,
because... Look, Mank.
It's a brilliant script.
No question. Absolutely brilliant.
It just... it needs
some shaping, that's all.
Yeah. Sure.
We should celebrate. Drinks, Housey.
I still have three weeks
left on my contract.
If you prepare some notes,
I'll do the revisions.
I don't have three weeks.
Schaefer wants it yesterday.
I'll send you the revisions. Oh and, Mank,
we need to change the name. Wha... what?
The title? No no, it's a grand title.
"American." I was thinking
more the character name.
"Charles Foster Craig" doesn't...
have the knives-out poetry
I was looking for. Okay.
I was thinking of Kane.
As in Abel?
K-A-N-E.
One strong syllable, "Kane."
"Craig" is one syllable.
Yes, but it's not a great syllable.
Thanks, Housey.
No, I haven't been drinking
since I started this.
To my invaluable comrades.
Goodbye.
"American"?
It's an awful title, of course, but I...
can't think of anything better.
Someone came up with
"A Sea of Upturned Faces"...
which has a
nice, sort of operatic ring to it.
I thought of "John Citizen, USA,"
but that struck me as a bit Warner Brothers
or God forbid... Capra-esque.
"Citizen." What?
"Citizen Kane."
That's your title. "Citizen Kane."
A "Z" and a "K."
It wouldn't look half bad
on a poster, would it?
Don't get too far ahead of
yourself. These budget projections...
I know, I know. I don't know
what you want me to do.
I've already cut the script
down to the bone. Listen to me,
and don't throw a fit.
I want you to seriously think about doing
"War of the Worlds." Oh
God, George, please, no.
Do "War of the Worlds" as a feature
and everybody'll be happy.
Don't ask me to do this.
You're a 24-year-old novice director.
This is difficult material,
maybe impossible.
And old man Hearst is gonna
come down on us with all he's got.
Think of the free publicity. Oh please.
Look, George, every idea has its moment.
This one is right now. If it's
half as good as I think it is...
It's not a matter of good or
bad. At the end of the day...
Why did you go into this business, George?
Why?
Wasn't there a time when making
pictures meant something to you,
that it mattered just a little bit,
that they were worth taking risks for?
George, If you look into my eyes right now
and tell me to go make "War of the Worlds,"
I will. I'll make it.
And yes, it'll make you money,
and I honestly...
I can't think of a reason why you
should let me make this picture
except that you should.
You know, I'd do anything
to get you the hell out of my office.
Here. Go make the goddamn picture.
All right. Tracking.
Medium shot, close-up.
Reverse.
Medium shot.
Reverse. What lens is that?
24. Open aperture.
We used it on "Long Voyage."
Could you run that reel again, Frank?
That's the one there.
I'm not sure, Mr. Welles. I'll try.
Yeah, Mr. Welles.
You fuck.
You selfish fuck.
A studio pal... if that's not
an oxymoron... sent it to me.
I thought we did it together, Orson.
I thought it was the two of us,
but, you see,
"Citizen Kane" by Orson Welles.
You took my name off the fucking script?
It's a mistake. Some steno
girl obviously made a mistake.
You took my name off the script?
You can't do that, Orson.
I fucking-well can.
I own your goddamn script,
and I can do anything I want.
Don't you forget for one minute that I took
your 350 pages of drunken rambling
and made a movie out of them.
And now I've got to shoot
the son of a bitch,
so thank you. Thank you
very much, but I have all I need.
And stop calling me.
Today...
Today we are beginning a great adventure.
Together, we're going to tell a story
that I think is of some importance.
Now... I won't lie to you.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
Every one of you
has had more time
on a sound stage than I have.
Every one of you knows your job
and I, of course, am still learning mine.
I ask for your patience and your help.
And I ask for one other thing. That you...
allow yourselves to get
a little lost with me...
to travel into the dark
wood of uncertainty,
to take a few wrong turns.
Because along the way, I...
I think we just might discover
something amazing together.
That's swell, Orson.
Now where do you want to put the camera?
It's a director's contract.
Why the hell did you sign this?
This is a suicide note, George.
The bastard's got us by the balls.
I trust him, Harry, deep down.
Have you seen 24? Yeah, I've never seen 24.
I've never seen anything
like 24. I don't believe it.
What?
He shot three scenes, two with dialogue,
when he was only supposed
to be doing camera tests.
George, the man is obviously an anarchist.
Yeah...
who's two days ahead of schedule.
Son of a bitch. 281.
I need you to look at the
camera, right into the lens.
Don't take your eyes off it
till I yell, "Cut."
Thank you, darling. The lines aren't
important right now. You sit right here.
See if you can get your...
sorry, sir. She's fine, thank you!
You just look right into the
camera and you'll be fine.
All right? Great.
I still think we should
under-crank and play it backwards.
When I want your opinion,
Gregg, I'll ask for it.
Collaboration, Orson. Make it fast, Andy!
Orson. Call it, Kit. Kit: Roll camera!
And action!
Oh!
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
That was terrific. Wonderful, Dot, really.
Really wonderful. Top-notch.
Ahem.
On the next one, maybe you
could close your mouth a little bit.
We can go for a slightly
more subtle version.
Well done though.
Right. Well...
Obviously, we need to go again.
I'll...
Be in makeup.
Orson, you cannot just destroy
a camera, for Christ's sakes.
Do you have any idea
what these things cost?
I know, George. I feel terrible about it.
How about this one,
Mr. Welles? That with a black tie.
Coming through. We
borrowed one from next door.
Well, stole it really,
but I don't think
they'll notice till Monday.
Look, I need... Perhaps this, Mr. Welles?
Try it with the other one. I'm sorry.
I need Agnes for another day.
Do you think you could fix it for me?
Good. Look, thanks,
George. I've got to run, okay?
Gregg!
What?
Action. Rosebud?
I'll tell you about Rosebud.
Cut. Let's go again.
Action. Rosebud?
Keep rolling.
Rosebud?
I'll tell you about Rosebud.
Cut. Again.
Orson, you cannot
shoot 56 takes of one line.
It's the climax of the picture, George.
Don't you see?
The audience has been waiting
for two hours to find out what Rosebud is.
If they don't believe they're about to,
we've let them down.
The trick doesn't work.
The whole picture depends
on it! Orson, it's one line.
Cut, print, end of story.
Drunk. What do you care?
You don't care about anything except you.
You just want to persuade
people that you love 'em so much
that they ought to love you back.
Only you want love on your own terms.
Orson?
You want to cut?
No no. No no no, keep rolling.
Right. Sorry, Joe.
Anywhere in your speech.
Ready?
Action.
Drunk. What do you care?
And I'm looking at them, and...
they're looking back at me
waiting for something brilliant.
They ought to love you back.
The only thing is, so am I.
Waiting for some moment of inspiration
that'll finally convince
them all that I'm worth
all the time and trouble and
money they've invested in me.
But I'm not, am I, Mank?
I'm just a fraud who couldn't care
less about anyone except himself.
Isn't that right?
I don't know, Orson.
Is that what you think?
I don't know what I think.
That's the problem.
I just know that I miss you and...
I was wondering if you
might consider coming back.
First you wanted me out. I'm out.
I'm sorry.
This is the shooting script
we've been using every day.
I just... I thought you'd like to see it.
Did I ever tell you about my father?
He was a drunk, my dad.
When my mother died,
I was obliged to accompany him
on his business trips... Europe, China.
I suppose in one sense it
was a way of seeing the world.
Richard Head Welles
and his amazing boy genius.
But he would drink, and
it would get embarrassing
and well, I... I began to resent him
because I was so sparkling, you see.
So when we got home
and I went off to school,
I... decided to cut him off.
I turned my back on him because...
I couldn't have him
getting in the way of my genius.
He would write me letters
that I would never answer.
He would call me
and I would ignore his calls.
When he eventually visited me at school,
I would manage to find myself
conveniently indisposed.
When I finally did see him
again, he was in a coffin.
I was 15.
And...
all of a sudden, he wasn't the...
the embarrassing drunk anymore.
He was my father.
He was the man who showed me the world.
Have you shot the beach scene yet?
No. Good.
It occurred to me the other day
that we're starting that scene
completely incorrectly.
We should... no, we should...
Closer.
Closer. Stop.
Can you see my shoes?
Yeah, but we lose your head.
Joe! Do me a favor
and stand in here, will you?
Look, Gregg, it has to be lower.
This is
"the" scene. We have to look up
at these two men as pillars
soaring to the sky,
towering virtues in combat...
Orson! We've been through this.
We can't get the camera any lower,
so find another goddamn shot!
Orson,
what the fuck are you doing?
Looks like he's tearing out the floor.
It's 4:00 in the goddamn morning.
My favorite time of day, Gregg.
I've set back the
sacred cause of reform, is that it?
All right.
If that's the way they want it.
People have made their choice.
It's obvious the people
prefer Jim Gettys to me.
You talk about the people
as though you own them,
as though they belong to you.
Orson, I'm so goddamn tired.
Keep rolling,
Gregg. I can't remember the lines.
For Christ's sake. Come on, Joe.
You're drunk, you're angry. Now use it.
We're not all hopped up
on Benzedrine, Orson.
Some of us humans need sleep.
That's good, Joe.
Now give me the goddamn line.
I know you've been waiting for
weeks to say something to me.
Don't tell me you've gone soft now.
You don't care about anything except you.
You just want to persuade
people that you love 'em so much
that they ought to love you back.
Only you want love on your own terms.
A toast then, Jedediah...
to love on my own terms.
Those are the only terms
anybody ever knows...
his own.
Cut. Print.
What's next, Gregg?
That's it, Orson. We're done.
What? We're done.
Well...
How about
a real drink, then, hmm?
Mr. Welles, compliments of Mr. Schaefer.
Daylight. Hey.
Oh! Oh!
Orson? Hedda here.
Oh, Hedda,
what a surprise. You naughty boy.
What? You told me
that I would positively be
the first human soul
to see your masterpiece
and here I read in the "Reporter"
there's a screening
for the magazines tonight.
That's only a rough cut. Oh, rough cut.
Been there, Orson, know the drill.
See you tonight. Hedda, Hedda, I...
Little prick.
This is awful. There's no music.
The sound isn't even synced. Relax.
They've all seen a rough cut before.
I know, but why Hedda, George?
The magazines are one thing...
If Hedda says she's coming, you
just mix up a batch of martinis and pray.
What did that mean?
Oh, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Yes?
Hello. I am so delighted
you could take my call.
I just wanted to let you know
that I saw this Orson
Welles picture last night.
First screening ever, don't you know?
And, Mr. Hearst, I just
don't understand something.
I do not understand
why Louella has not told you
that it's all about you.
It's about me? Yes.
In detail? Yes.
Thank you for this information.
No, it's my pleasure, sir.
Yes?
Mr. Schaefer,
Miss Louella Parsons is here.
Here? As in right outside? Yes sir.
Tell her to wait a minute. Yes...
Shit.
Schaefer. Louella.
I gotta see this Welles picture.
I was just fixing something to drink.
You drink at 10:00 a.m.? No, I meant...
And I want to see the picture today.
Well, that may be a tad difficult.
Oh, cut the malarkey, buddy.
The boss himself wants me
to see the picture today.
He asked you personally? That's right.
Hearst? Bingo. I'll be back at noon.
Oh joy.
You will continue
with your singing, Susan.
I don't propose to have
myself made ridiculous.
You don't propose to
have yourself made ridiculous?
What about me?! I'm the
one that's gotta do the singing!
I'm the one that gets the raspberries!
Why don't you let me alone?!
It's all you.
The war with Pulitzer, the castle, Marion.
How so? The jigsaw puzzles
and... the career.
The man spending a fortune
to make her a star.
Only it's opera and not movies.
And... Yes?
The drinking.
Go on. The whole picture's a mess.
Jumps all over the place. Very arty.
It's all built around this sled
called Rosebud that the guy
had when he was a kid.
What did you say?
Yeah, that's the guy's last words.
They're about a sled he had
as a kid called Rosebud.
Makes no sense at all.
Rosebud. Yeah.
So our life is the subject for mockery.
All of it.
Every personal detail.
Thank you for your time.
Thank you, sir.
Miss Parsons.
I have one additional question for you.
Sir?
Why were we not informed of this sooner?
Sir?
I pay you a good deal of money
to be my eyes and ears in Hollywood,
do I not?
If you cannot provide this simple service,
then you are of no use to me.
But, sir... Please be quiet.
This young man
has made a motion picture
detailing my life.
This motion picture was made
at a not-insignificant studio
and you knew nothing about it.
He lied to me. He looked me in the face
and told me it wasn't about you.
And how do you feel when you are lied to?
I want blood.
Good.
Retain that feeling.
Let it nourish you.
It shall nourish us both.
Randolph. Louie.
I hope you don't mind
my popping in like this.
Not at all. Come on. Sit down.
What a wretched place this is.
I never come to town
without feeling filthy.
You really must buy that piece of property
near the castle and come north.
I wish I could, but... business.
Which is why I'm here.
You've heard of this
"Citizen Kane" picture?
Yeah. RKO. Mmm.
Evidently it details the exploits
of a newspaper publisher,
much like myself.
Entirely too much like myself.
No one wants their
private life paraded about
for the curiosity
of the moviegoing public...
if you catch my drift.
I don't see how the release of this picture
will do anyone any good really.
So sue him.
That's what I'd do.
Thank you, Louie.
I'll keep it in mind.
Say, while I'm in town,
why don't the two of us
drop by the L.A. Country Club
and play 18 holes?
Hmm?
Maybe we could get Mr. Warner to join us.
And Mr. Cohn,
and Mr. Selznick
and Mr. Goldwyn.
The club is restricted.
Oh, so it is.
How silly of me.
I sometimes forget that you're all Jews.
Apparently quite a number of people forget
if they ever knew.
See what you can do about
this "Citizen Kane" picture.
Will you, Louie?
That's right, fella.
And Mr. Hearst has authorized me to tell you
that you're looking at the
most beautiful lawsuit in history
if you release this picture.
He'll bleed your little studio dry,
and you can all go on back to New York
and do Shakespeare with the boy wonder.
Can I talk to Hearst?
You are talking to him.
The "Journal" was particularly
harsh on Roosevelt today.
You really
oughta lay off him, Pops.
He is the president, you know.
He's a Bolshevik.
He'll have us at war with
Germany within the year.
I think I'll run that picture
of him in a wheelchair.
Please don't.
What do you think?
Sir? We got the call.
Mm-hmm?
Thank you, Joseph.
What is it, Pops? Nothing
for you to worry about.
What is it?
The SEC has turned down my request
for relief on the debts.
How much?
It's not something... How much?
$125 million.
We're $125 million in debt?
Yes.
Wow.
How does one get $125 million in debt?
One... buys things.
Oh.
We open on Monument Valley.
Towering stalagmites
reaching towards heaven.
We track in on a single
solitary figure.
A quiet man. Come here.
What did I tell you?
Who is he? ...but I want it cold.
I don't want a hot sound.
No vibrato. No vibrato.
You wanna do "The Life of Christ"?
You have to admit, it has
a built-in audience, Gregg.
We shoot it like a western...
vibrant, stark, modern.
All on location in the Mojave Desert.
Hey, Gregg. His next
picture... he wants to play Christ.
Yeah, I hope he's planning to start
with the crucifixion. You
read Louella?
I am trying to work.
Sorry, Bernie, we'll take it outside.
It sounds wonderful.
So what am I today,
a puny upstart or a spoiled dilettante?
It wouldn't be that. She
probably can't spell "dilettante."
"And how is the country
to feel when this industry
continues to employ bedraggled foreigners
and swarthy refugees
instead of real Americans?
Doesn't Hollywood know
there's a depression on?
Don't real Americans deserve work?"
At least she's off "Kane."
Off "Kane"?
Orson, this is code language
to the studio bosses.
"Bedraggled foreigners
and swarthy refugees"?
Who the hell do you think that could be?
I don't know. Peter Lorre?
Who owns this town? Who
runs every studio? Jews.
Okay, they're Jews. So what?
They're Jews, just like you.
Just listen, you idiot.
This is just the first shot.
The next time, she will
actually use the "J" word
and the studio bosses will do anything
to keep that word from going into print.
And Hearst knows it. What
are they gonna do, Mank?
Are they gonna kill me?
Is that what you think?
Why don't you ask
Thomas Ince that question?
Sorry, Mr. Welles,
we need to be able to hear.
Orson. Orson.
He knows. Do you
understand what that means?
That he knows? He knows.
What are you afraid of, Mank?
It's done, it's in the can.
There's nothing they can do.
Yeah, and it will stay in the can.
That film will never come out.
Hearst will not allow it. The
studio heads will not allow it.
That film will never see the light of day.
Are you on their side, Mank? What?
That's what it sounds like
to me. Are you on their side?
I mean, for Christ's sakes,
you wrote the goddamn script.
You fought for the credit.
That's right, and I told you
that this would happen, didn't I?
Didn't I tell you? Huh?
Right. Listen, I got my
check. You got yours.
Let's move on. I will not move on!
Who are they, Mank?!
Who are these men that
you're so afraid of?!
Who are these tiny little fucking men?!
They're accountants.
We're ready. You wanna hear it?
Switch it off.
Switch it off!
Would everybody please leave?
They got us, didn't they, Pops?
I mean, they nailed us, didn't they?
The crazy old man and his whore.
Marion. Bought and paid for
just like one of his goddamn statues.
At least in the movie, he marries her.
That picture... I-I'm not that woman.
I know what I could've been
and I know what I gave up to be with you.
I mean, they've even got
the goddamn jigsaw puzzles in there, Pops.
Why? Why did they do that to us?
Why would they do that to us?
I don't know. I don't know.
Has he no idea of the
power that controls him?
Get me Louella Parsons.
Now.
Fancies himself an artist. That's not art.
It's an
abomination. The man's a charlatan,
a gossipmonger and a fraud.
Miss Parsons, I have Mr. Hearst.
Miss Parsons.
Use the file.
So what have we got here, I.B.?
We got faggots and commies and junkies.
We got movie stars screwing
niggers and little girls.
We got Jews.
We got MGM, Warner Brothers,
Columbia, Disney and Fox.
We got Hollywood.
What do you want? Kill "Citizen Kane."
How? I don't give a shit.
Now, the boss has been
working on some stuff,
and I've been working on some stuff.
Now I want all of you boys
working on some stuff,
'cause if it looks like this
movie is ever gonna come out,
I start running down the
street with these pictures
like a screaming woman
with her throat cut, you follow?
Joe, how bad is it?
Ms. Davies... Come on, Joe, how bad is it?
It's bad.
I've been thinking about
the "Examiner" in Chicago.
It's just not making any
headway against the "Tribune."
Circulation is way down.
I think we should buy the "Tribune,"
eliminate the competition.
And I'm starting a campaign
against Mr. Welles
and his tawdry little film.
Yeah.
Sure, Pops. Mmm.
What do you want me to do? I'm telling you,
no one's willing to open this movie.
So we open in Dallas
and Detroit, Kalamazoo.
It doesn't matter. For God's sakes, George.
We could show it in a circus tent!
Come on, Orson. We have to go public.
If they see "Kane," he's exposed.
The film is our best defense!
If we get the press on
our side... He is the press!
God damn it.
George, wait.
George.
You don't understand that the stockholders
in New York are scared shitless.
We start a publicity campaign
against Hearst now
and he'll destroy every
RKO picture that's out there.
I'm about this far away
from being fired myself,
and I'm the only friend you
have in the world right now.
So you've got to trust that I'll do
what I can. We have to fight them.
We have to go on the radio... Radio? You
think this is some kind of a fucking game?
Do you have any idea
how many people RKO employs?
You wanna shoot yourself in the head,
you just go right ahead
and do it. I can't stop you.
But you're not gonna drag
this company down with you.
George, we need to make a statement.
We have to tell people
what's he's trying to do.
There's not gonna be any statements!
I'm talking about jobs.
I'm talking about food on the table.
No, you're not. You're talking about
letting them bury my picture.
"My picture." "My picture."
I'm so sick and tired
of hearing you say that.
It's my picture too.
It's his life.
Did you ever think about that?
How can you defend him,
George, after what he's done to us?
He's a monster. He's a soulless monster!
Oh, come on. Who are you kidding, kid?
Huh? You're the soulless monster!
George, please, no.
George, listen to me. Orson, Orson!
It's all I've got! Orson!
It's all I've got, George.
Whose fault is that?
Explain it to me then.
There is nothing to explain.
Millions of dollars a year
on art and statues
and there's nothing to explain?
I will not defend my life to you.
I'm not asking you
to defend anything, Pops,
but we are in a pickle here
and we need to talk about it.
We are in no pickle, as you
so euphemistically put it.
You gotta wake up now, Pops.
There is nothing more to discuss.
You don't have any money left, okay?
That's what no one else
will tell you. You are broke.
You spent it all. You cannot buy
the goddamn "Chicago Tribune."
You can't buy a goddamn thing.
You are being excessively
theatrical, Marion.
As it just so happens,
I need the "Tribune."
But that's just it. You don't
need it. You don't need any of it.
I mean, that statue, for instance...
how much did that cost?
It's 17th century from
Avignon. That's in France.
I know where fucking Avignon is, okay?
There is no need for you to
use that kind of language with me.
Did you need it? Did you need any of it?
I wanted it.
And there is a difference
between "want" and "need."
Not to me!
Why? Why? Just so you could show
what a big man you are? Is that it?
That's right. You've captured me exactly.
And so, good night.
Where are you go...
Hey, Pops,
you will... you will not
walk out on me this time!
You are repellent to me when you drink.
Well, tough shit,
because we have to talk about this.
You are crude,
slovenly and unattractive,
and this discussion is at an end.
Fuck you, Mr. Kane.
I will not have this in my home.
I'm just trying to understand,
Pops. No, you're not.
You want to condemn me, like everyone else.
You want to point your finger
at the pathetic old man
grown lunatic with his spending,
trapped in his ridiculous castle,
still fighting old battles
he will never win. No, Pops.
There is nothing to understand.
I am a man who could've been great...
but was not.
I was 18 when we met. He was 50.
Really?
I just saw that big old gold ring
and I just grabbed right on 'cause
he was gonna make me a star.
And he did.
Yeah.
I wanted to do comedies.
Silly stuff, you know?
But Pops,
he doesn't get comedies too good.
He kept putting me in those period pieces.
Carole, you know this...
"Citizen Kane" movie?
The one that's supposed to be about Pops
and everything,
and the character of Susan Alexander
is supposed to be me? Marion,
everyone knows you're not like that.
But that's just the thing.
I am like that.
This little girl comes from nowhere
and meets this...
this guy.
He rules the world, you know?
And-and-and...
somewhere along the line she gets lost.
Thinking like that
is only gonna drive you nuts.
You were a great star.
You had a good run.
That ought to be enough.
But all of a sudden it's not.
You know?
It's hell when you gotta
look back and you say...
"What I could've been."
Can I help you?
My Lord.
How much for all of it?
♪ In an armchair by the fireside ♪
♪ Just big enough for two ♪
♪ We'll be happy... ♪
Of the Nazi weapons
of destruction. ♪ Oh so happy... ♪
It is unmistakably
apparent to all of us
that unless the advance of Hitlerism
is forcibly checked now
the western hemisphere...
♪ A little kiss or two ♪
♪ In the gloaming by the fireside ♪
♪ With you. ♪
You got my memo. What do we do?
He's a fucking pisher.
Why does Hearst give a shit?
It's enough that he does.
Would Louella really do it?
- In a New York minute.
- I say to hell with Louella,
to hell with Hearst. This hits all of us.
It's our business
and we can't take it lying down.
We all didn't make
"Gone with the Wind," you know?
Some of us can't afford your principles.
We gotta look at this checkbook-wise.
Who isn't hurting already?
All this "Jew" talk?
Now he's boycotting RKO ads.
Next week it's Warners,
Fox or Columbia, right? Goddamn right.
He's got us nailed.
Dates, times...
photographs, for God's sake.
I don't mean to be funny, but...
what could he have on Mickey Mouse?
He's got you so tied in with J.
Edgar Hoover and America First
you might as well put on a brown shirt
and kiss those happy little kiddies goodbye.
Relax, Walt. At least he don't
have you screwing Snow White.
I got fuckin' Errol Flynn on my payroll.
You're a smart man, Louie. I suspect
you didn't call us all here without a plan.
Give over. We will buy this movie...
and we will destroy it.
We will assemble a fund between us
and we will go to George Schaefer...
And we will buy the negative
and every print of "Citizen Kane"
and we will burn them.
If I don't hear an objection to this agenda
in the next five seconds, I'll
assume the motion is carried.
Very well.
What does it profit a man
to gain the whole world
if he loses his soul?
And John the Baptist
says, "A night with Rita Hayworth?"
George! Just the man we're looking for.
Look. Not a single
scene shot in the studio.
Of course, you're gonna have to help me with
accounting... I think you should sit down.
I don't want to sit down,
George. All right, don't sit down.
The bosses of the other studios
have made an offer of $800,000
to buy the negative and all the prints...
to burn them.
They went to the stockholders in New York.
I've been talking to Swanbeck.
I think they're going to take it.
Hmm.
You shit.
You treacherous little shit. Orson!
This isn't George's fault. Shut up, Mank.
You wanna take my movie, George?
Is that it? Is that what you came here for?
Okay, take it.
But why not take it all, George, hmm?
Why not take everything, George? Easy!
Everything I am, everything
I could be is in that film.
Take it, George. Here, I
offer it up to you. Take it.
No, George, wait.
George, wait, please.
George, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. Look, I am.
George, please just... just...
give me one more chance.
Let me go to New York. Please, George,
let me go talk to the
stockbrokers and I promise you...
I promise you, you will never see me again.
Ace of spades.
Ace of spades.
Good afternoon.
Today a man from Germany
invaded Greece.
He's already swallowed Poland,
Denmark, Norway
and Belgium.
He's bombing London as I speak.
Everywhere this man goes,
he crushes the life
and the freedom of his subjects.
He sews yellow stars on their lapels.
He takes their voices.
In this country, we...
we still have our voices.
We can argue with them
and we can sing and we
can be heard because we are...
for the moment... free.
No one can tell us
what to say or how to say it.
Can they?
Gentlemen...
I am one voice.
That is all. My picture is one voice.
One view, one opinion, nothing more.
Men are dying in Europe now,
and Americans soon will be,
so that we can surmount
the tyrants and the dictators.
Will you send a message across America
that one man
can take away our voices?
So...
who is Mr. Hearst...
and who is Mr. Welles?
Well, Mr. Hearst built a palace
of brick and mortar
and little wars and corpses piled high.
Mr. Welles built a palace of illusion.
It's...
what we call a matte painting.
It's a camera trick. It's nothing.
Nothing but a dream.
Today...
you have the chance
to let the dream triumph.
Thank you.
We open May 1st.
It was a pretty speech, Orson,
but you got lucky.
Hearst is going bankrupt.
It's all over the wire.
Pretty speeches change the world, George.
You meant it, right?
Does it matter?
Yes!
It matters.
We will be immediately closing 12
of the papers and the wire services.
And we will be liquidating some
other assets as soon as possible...
most of the land in Mexico
and your collection of art and antiquities.
Mr. Hearst spent his life
collecting this art.
We've been in touch
with Gimbels in New York
and they've agreed to hold a special sale.
They've given over an entire
floor to the merchandise.
You'll have to go there in person
to sign the bill of sale, by the way.
We don't know yet whether
we'll be able to retain the castle.
The land has some capital.
We might be able to keep it on
as an investment.
Maybe break it up into
smaller units for housing.
When will it come out?
We can't keep it a secret, sir.
Once we announce the Gimbels'
sale and start liquidating the assets.
Let it go, Pops. Let it go.
Mr. Hearst, I'm not sure
if you remember who I am.
My name's Orson Welles...
I know who you are.
Well, then you probably also know
that I've got a picture
opening tomorrow night.
Be happy to arrange some
tickets for you, if you'd like to come.
I wonder...
have you any idea the damage you've done?
Do you?
Intimately.
For every sin you've placed on my head,
I could give you a hundred others.
But I believe that a man's private life
should not be made public property.
Despite what you may have
read in your papers,
I'd like to think my film was more than
a cheap expose of one man's life.
And what would you call it?
My man gains the world and loses his soul.
I suppose in some circles
that would be considered
a fair exchange.
It's not my life you sabotaged
with your film, Mr. Welles.
My battle with the world is almost over.
Yours, I'm afraid,
has just begun.
Good luck, Mr. Welles.
Kane would've taken the tickets!
It's my birthday this
week. Did you know that, George?
26. Happy birthday.
Ain't it
the bee's knees to see
all the high muckety-mucks dolled up
like Aztecs for human sacrifice?
You gonna watch? I know how it ends:
Rosebud's the sled. Mank!
Rosebud's the sled.
Come on. It doesn't matter.
They'll hate it, anyway.
Not enough close-ups,
too many New York actors.
Knock it off, Mank. Relax, kid.
You made a great picture.
Now we have to convince them.
So does this mean you're in
for "The Life of Christ"?
I got the axe this morning.
Oh, you're kidding?
It's all right.
I made my choices, same as you.
This whole Hearst nightmare...
who's gonna remember it?
Nobody.
We'll be lucky if they
remember the goddamn movie.
What have I done? Come on.
He'll land on his feet. He always does.
Let's get a drink.
♪ Still I can't get no place with you ♪
♪ 'Cause you're so supreme... ♪
We pulled it off, didn't we, Mank?
Depends on what side you're on.
♪ I dream, dream day and night of you... ♪
Look, Mank, I... I never meant to...
Sure you did. Anyway,
was it worth it?
I don't know.
I can't imagine doing it any other way.
I suppose it's just my character.
It won't be easy, having
made your masterpiece at 26.
Is that what you think?
That I'm just gonna burn out
at the ripe old age of 26?
All stars burn out, Orson.
It's the flame that counts.
To the flame.
To the flame.