Rosebud Redux

An excerpt from IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIMES IN A MOVIE THEATER written by moi with a few recent musings at the end to wrap it all up in a pretty bow.

At last, I have vindicated myself. A wrong in my life has finally been made right.

A glaring red mark is now erased from my permanent record. I once was lost, but now I’m found.

What, you may well ask, is this bold, courageous step I have taken which will guarantee me a reserved seat in that big skybox above known as Heaven?

I have just seen CITIZEN KANE as it was originally meant to be seen-on an actual motion picture screen.

Okay, fine, I’m a little late. It’s not like I haven’t seen the dang thing before…only several dozen times since I was a lad of wee, but it was always on television. After all, CITIZEN KANE was a perennial LATE, LATE SHOW attraction in the prehistoric days before cable. I probably saw it for the first time on the San Francisco TV station KPIX at maybe two in the morning back in the 1960s. Even then, it was hard to deny the power of this incredible film, a tougher feat to accomplish in those days since it was broken up by incessant used car commercials featuring fast-talking hucksters like the notorious Ralph Williams, a dead ringer for Lex Luthor. CITIZEN KANE pulled me in every single time and I was always a willing hostage.

Only a series of missed opportunities throughout my movie-going life has prevented me from actually making the supreme effort to view what is generally acknowledged as the greatest film of all time in its natural habitat. Truthfully, it has been a major source of embarrassment to have to admit this shame of mine because I have always claimed to be somewhat of an expert on the cinema, a connoisseur, if you
will…someone who eats, sleeps, hell…even farts movies. Not to have seen CITIZEN KANE…really, honestly, truly seen Orson Welles’ masterpiece meant one thing and one thing only.

I was a fraud. Oh yeah. A genuine, bona fide, dyed-in-the-wool-whatever-the-hell-that-means, class A number one F-R-A-U-D.

But, not no mo’, pal.

Now, I can hold my head up high, climb to the top of Gene Shalit’s hair and shout victoriously, “Free at last! Free at Last! Pass the popcorn, I am free at last!”

This soul-cleansing redemption came one recent fall evening at the Guild Theatre in downtown Portland, Oregon, a venue that runs shows for the Northwest Film Center. The Guild has an auditorium that is old, musty and damp with seats to match, almost giving off the impression that’s it had been underwater for several years after a flood. That, to me, is part of its charm. The screen, framed by soft white light bulbs, was rather small, making me think this might be a 16mm showing, even though it wasn’t. The presentation began; stumbling and bumbling like a doddering old fool in the dark. The
opening titles, usually the first big rush I get because your anticipation is so high, were illegibly out of frame. The sound level was so loud, the NEWS ON THE MARCH fanfare alone nearly burst open my lower intestine. The print was fairly scratchy in that community college Film Appreciation class way. Instead of irritating the snot out of me, these gaffes actually amused me because they eventually worked themselves out. The Guild basically showed me a good time that night. I might even give it a second date sometime.

It is also my pleasure to report that I sat with a respectful audience that didn’t talk during the film, laughed at all the right places and even gave me a small sense of pride to be amongst them when they applauded after the closing credits. (There were a couple of knotheads that just HAD to leave just as the sled was burning. What’s the hurry? Afraid you’re gonna miss a rerun of JAG?)

To say that I’m familiar with CITIZEN KANE would be an understatement. Basically, I know this film backwards and forwards with entire scenes that I can recite verbatim. However, each repeat viewing affords certain aspects of KANE to stand out more than ever, as it would for any film. Projected on the big screen, these details are more abundant and have more clarity. I may not have seen KANE with “a whole new set of eyes” like a friend of mine suggested, but my vision most certainly improved. The opening sequence, just before Kane utters “Rosebud” for the very first time, has that eerie tour of Xanadu after dark. With its special effects and matte paintings, it looks damn near like animation, not dissimilar to early black-and-white Disney. Speaking of cartoons, check out the birds in the background of the Everglades sequence near the end. Just where the hell did Kane and Susan have that picnic anyway…Skull Island? Hey, look over there by the chilled prawns…it’s Bruce Cabot! Joseph Cotten is very obvious in the shadows of the screening room after NEWS ON THE MARCH. That smile he has on his face looks like he was trying to sneak into the scene. Another thing I’ve never really picked up on before: Dorothy Comingore, the actress who portrays the second Mrs. Kane, was hot! Take a look at the early boarding house scene when Susan Alexander is introduced. Small wonder how Kane got his hand caught in that “cookie” jar. Granted, she’s got a voice that would make Fran Drescher squirm, but how can I not pay tribute to the actress who says the immortal line, “Yer awful funny, are-runt cha?”

On the downside is a glaring oversight by Welles and screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz that weakens the film for me and obviously is something I haven’t picked upon before. There is a total lack of any kind of a payoff regarding the death of Emily, the first Mrs. Kane, and their son (played by the ever-popular Sonny Bupp) Surely, it was significant enough to warrant such attention. Their demise seems to be mentioned only in passing, as if it were merely a convenience of the story. Its absence leaves a very obvious gaping hole that I find impossible to ignore from here on out.

Volumes have been written about Gregg Toland’s cinematography and Bernard Herrmann’s music, so let me just add my undying admiration for both of their invaluable contributions, which are even more spectacular in a theater setting. When Rosebud’s secret is finally revealed and the music reaches its crescendo, so did I, in more ways than one. (You figure it out)

Orson Welles as Charles Foster Kane is the single greatest film performance of all time. Period.

After the movie, I drove home about as pleased with myself as I had been in quite some time. Now that

time has distanced me from that night, I have to ask myself why. What was it that I actually accomplished? I went to a movie. More accurately, I went to a movie that I’d seen maybe thirty times before I also own a copy of this movie I paid to see. The answer may be two-fold for it not only has to do with act of going to a movie, but also what it represents which, coincidentally enough, is a lot like the answer to the meaning of Rosebud. Watching CITIZEN KANE at the Guild gave me something I had been lacking-sense of being true to myself.

I love the movies. I own both a VCR and a DVD player. That means I will continue to watch movies at home each and every chance I get. The technology is getting better and better as each day passes, making the home experience a more viable option. There is never a lack of product since it is easier and extremely affordable to obtain movies to purchase or merely to rent. My own personal collection continues to grow into the treasure chest I’ve always dreamed of. But, it’s never going to be enough.
There is a qualitative difference in a theater, an entire dimension that is lost at home. This dimension is a separate world, a world of light and life that can envelop me entirely. It can make the fantastic positively believable and the tiniest gesture a poem. The portal to that world is a movie theater and I wish to remain a frequent traveler through its gateway. Sure, sometimes this magic portal takes me to a place where a teenager humps an apple pie. But, hey, allow me the pretentious metaphor.

The night I saw KANE was a wake-up call. It re-ignited the fire I myself allowed to go out, that is, my passion for the movie-going experience. It caused me to review the many options that exist out there for those with my voracious appetite for all things celluloid. I happen to be very fortunate to be living in an area where I’m only limited by my lack of imagination. The confines of the multiplex with its standard Hollywood fare mentality may be pre-dominant here as it everywhere but at least there are many other choices. Independent, foreign, revivals of classics, hell, even second run features at discounted prices are all currently playing at various neighborhood theaters all over town, many in glorious old movie palaces that have been saved and preserved by people who care. These are getting fewer and far between as each day passes, which is another reason to support them. There are even theater pubs where you can enjoy a meal and a brew while watching a movie. Okay, that’s here where I live. Maybe that doesn’t exist where you are. Go out and find them. If I didn’t live in this area, that’s what I would do. I’ve done it before and I’d do it again. And yes, I’ve even gone back to the multiplex too because it ain’t the only game in town. It’s just another option.

You see, as I said, I love the movies and I am proud to say the movies love me right back. What I’ve come to realize it that this a part of who I am and always will be, even it is just a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. This is my Rosebud.

In the dark, I see the light.

Copyright 2003 by Scott Cherney

CODA:
This incident occurred at the turn of century, a term that is still hard to swallow twenty three years into the 21st where we find ourselves now. That being said, some updates seem to be required. The Guild Theatre in downtown Portland is long gone. I no longer have a VCR, though am inexplicably holding onto some videotapes. There is no mention of streaming services because they didn't exist back then. You could rent a DVD from Netflix though if you so desired. 

I still believe in the power of cinema, especially in the realm of a movie theater. My attendance in recent years may belie this fanciful notion, but the experience in and of itself still gives me that visceral thrill like no other. In fact, I'm going to a movie tomorrow to keep my passion for film alive and hopefully still kicking.

IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIMES IN A MOVIE THEATER is available in paperback and Kindle on the Amazon