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-Dear Orson Welles...

Look where we are, one of the wonders of the

world.

With an eye like yours, you'll have noticed

something missing in this skyline.

The Twin Towers are no more.

All things come to an end, don't they?

People, buildings, cities.

That was one of the big themes in your movies.

You died more than 30 years ago.

Since then, some things haven't changed.

But quite a lot has changed since you died.

Life has become far more visual.

Something called the Internet has come along.

It's hard to explain, but see those two guys at

the bottom of this shot?

They're using mobile phones to send

pictures, not just words.

Or order pizza or book a flight

or watch 'Citizen Kane'.

Phones are televisions and travel agents

now.

The Internet is like black magic.

The addict in you, the adrenaline junkie would

love it.

What you would have done with the Internet.

There've been other big changes since you died.

We've had an African-American president in the

Oval Office.

Oh, and a guy who thinks he's Charles Foster Kane.

The world has become more Wellesian, Orson.

The despots that you were fascinated by

are gaining ground.

Things seem exaggerated.

But what is Wellesian?

Who were you?

When I told a waitress recently that I was making

a film about you, she said, "Oh, that

big creepy actor?

He gave me the willies."

You did act the creeps, didn't you?

And bullies.

In 'The Third Man', the camera wooshed into

Harry Lime, your most famous character,

a monster, a smirker,

in the limelight.

So the waitress was partly right.

Can we look at you anew, Orson?

Can we tell your story anew?

Can we?

I went to this secure storage unit in

New York.

And found this box.

What's in the box?

An aspect of you, Orson?

You left no autobiography, but you left

something else.

I took the box in a taxi.

That's me, 40 years after I saw

your film 'Touch of Evil' on TV as a boy.

I didn't understand it, but I swooned.

I felt the woosh of love.

You threw a rope to me when I watched it, Orson.

When I'm nervous now anywhere in the world,

I hum the tune that plays on 'Touch of Evil''s

pianola.

It's a sultry lullaby of sorts.

I took the box in a plane and now

it's in my flat.

What's in the box, Orson?

Not words or films but drawings.

Many have never been seen before.

What's in the box, Orson?

Visual thinking.

What's in the box, Orson?

A sketchbook of your life.

Look how freely your quill moves across the page

of this BBC TV documentary.

Scratch and scribble, lines

faster than you could think, for the back of the

head and the lapel.

Then more careful for the nose.

You were obsessed by noses.

Old-school technique, dipping into

an inkwell.

Where would you start the story of your drawing

life, Orson?

You said that at nine, "I'd started to paint.

That's what I loved the most always."

And then later, "I'd never been

excited by movies as movies as the way

I've been excited by magic or bullfighting

or painting."

Your guardian, Dr. Ben Stein, encouraged you to

study art in the Windy City.

What a transit lounge.

Was it a visual treat?

Did it affect your looking life?

You could look at Chicago Square on like this.

But surely the city of the first great skyscrapers

made you look upwards.

And you became the greatest ever filmmaker of

looking upwards.

Whether it's by craning.

Oh, I'm shooting below people's feet.

I've got this waiting for 20000

tons of marble to suggest power.

You wouldn't have to request to miniaturised

a character.

Not so loud.

You want to bring all the officials down on this.

Ask who you are.

You lived here and had a drawing studio

here in Rush Street.

It was just big enough for your band and a large

drawing board.

Your teacher said that you did dozens of sketches

here, but three, most of them away.

But you studied drawing here, didn't you?

The Art Institute of Chicago

in your early teens.

Do you remember as a boy sitting on the tail

of its famous lions?

And inside.

What did you see?

Europe.

Myths.

Bodies.

Selfhood.

Pointers to your future.

Translucent ceilings lit from above.

A technique used in the trial

could be similar to the right.

Where are you? I need Mr. BLOCK.

You are high here.

And citizen, can you talk about the

people as though you own them?

Years later, if you knew someone who was going

to the Art Institute, he told them to go

and see these miniature rims.

Did there look there wideness

influence any of the visuals in your films,

the train of voicing of.

I think.

If you could be here now, your eyes would be

ducting. Awesomer.

Chicago's got new ways of seeing.

So you're drawing and painting life had begun.

It continued for 60 years.

You drew everywhere.

You went to there at least a thousand

of your artworks.

Where are they now?

Many are in Michigan, in Ann

Arbor, which was named after its trees.

Here in the University of Michigan's archive,

they have your relics.

Your beloved knows Putti.

Kuchu war as Rochester in Jane Eyre.

Letters from you and to you.

This one's from Vivien Lee.

And then there are your drawings themselves.

Another place where I find your artworks was here.

Can you guess where I am?

And who lives here?

Brace yourself. Awesome.

It's Beatrice, your third daughter.

She's in her 60s now, which is still

a rocker chick and sometimes

drives with no hands.

So what am I doing? First getting these are

though, all of those should be his paintings, if

I remember. Right.

That is gorgeous. That is not.

Well, it does. I see that fabulous.

A Christmas card.

It was a Christmas card.

That's sort of what I saw this morning when I got

up. That's right. I called it Broadway Blues.

Mm hmm.

And that, you know about a

producer saying so.

Sorry, Mr. Wells, we have got around to

reading. Yes.

Yes.

He's saying, hey, but my players are.

Yes, exactly that.

That's him. And where did the money go to?

You see, it's just it's my life and my father.

Some sign he put here some

Broadway blues.

This is in Munich. This is when he was traveling

with his father around the world.

This is before he got to Ireland was.

No. Oh, yes. This is probably when he was about, I

think, 12.

And that's in Munich.

And then here he's an idealist

family. This.

So he'd been to Shanghai at this point they so

hence this particular one.

And then these look like German Karaca

Chinese weighted to Germany, obviously

a drawing of you painting Austen.

Look how many kisses you put on this letter.

And I just had a look at this picture and then

I remembered that this was the day that

the painting he drew when they threw him out of

the window, when I

said, you can't come back.

You can't touch your movie, which is this

one. Yeah.

And as you can see, the anger in it.

I mean, you can just.

Thank you.

You took a line for a walk.

Portraits, sketches and letters.

Costume designs, stage layouts.

Backdrop plans, Christmas cards,

pictures of your loves and travels.

You drew compulsively.

A lifetime of lines.

Were you in the zone when you drew awesome like

sports people are in the zone.

Do your sketches Shusha on conscious?

Can we glimpse in them the story of your life?

It's politics, love and power.

Ordinary people. Awesome.

The 20th century was theirs.

Many got to vote for the first time.

Old elites lost power.

Was they extraordinary wells, very

ordinary?

Did you know many working class people?

My own allegiance

is stronger to the idea of citizenship

than my own loyalty is greater the idea

of myself as a member of the human family

than it is to a as a member of

any profession.

I don't take art as seriously as politics.

The hotel now he's in Paris, 1960,

a TV interview.

How solid you are in the frame

and then your laugh and that trademark cigar.

But where did your belief in citizenship start?

With your mother, Beatrice.

She co-founded the Women's Alliance

to help Chicago's poor,

her activism was inspired by this Unitarian

Church, which was open to all races

and classes.

The Women's Alliance hosted speeches on the

persecution of Jews in Russia.

Your mother was the first woman in your hometown

of Kenosha ever to be elected to public

office.

She had a community tree planted.

I think it's this one to raise

money so that every Canosa child between

2 and 14 would receive

a Christmas gift.

One of the reasons you painted and drew Christmas

trees so often awesome in impasto,

snow, white paint and black card.

A black line helix daubed with green and

red, a gothic black

ink tree in the sunshine.

An eight second test of pine

agrees a tree encased

magenta and sage, a

pine branch and ink and brush wash.

Helix and White tonight were just two hieroglyph.

All distant reminders of your mother, perhaps.

What a woman she was.

This film should be about her.

She laid the foundation of your political beliefs,

but she died when you were just nine.

And then the Wall Street crash came.

The depression brought new realism in American

art, but something more personal happened

to you. Orson, that further shaped

your politics.

Took a boat.

The S.S. Baltic to Ireland

explicitly to draw and paint.

We can feel your 16 year old eyes darting about

on the Baltic. Awesome.

There are four liquor's alone in this small

section of one of your drawings.

They're befuddled. Suspicious or glowing?

What you saw on the boat was people,

real people like you'd seldom

seen before.

What about this woman's twisty jaw line and pursed

lips?

And these two profiles that

they know you were drawing them.

Did this guy.

Your background was privileged, but on the Baltic,

you met migrants and really looked at

them.

You later became fascinated by aging, sagging

faces.

It's just 23 in the play.

Heartbreak House.

You were like the man you drew on the Baltic.

Were you in a hurry to get old Dawson

youth or you or

maybe in the months and Ireland, your youth

ended and

then you set foot on Ireland?

You wrote Our very landing was

dramatic.

Men and women good on their knees, weeping for

joy.

It's almost beyond belief that two days

journeying from the world's greatest metropolis

brings one to a land where an intelligent

and aristocratic people lives in

archaic simplicity.

Intelligent, aristocratic,

archaic, the words you used

about the Irish were rich.

Indeed, you wrote in 16

short years of living, nothing

comparable with Galway in the west of Ireland

has loomed so unexpectedly or breathtakingly

on my horizon.

You bought a donkey, she dog and cart

and roughed it.

You wrote, I curled up under the cart

and fell asleep.

There were nights too spent in cottages,

weeks, weddings and match makings.

My week with the band of gypsies, my

mountain climbs, my night

in the quagmire,

you really encountered the old world.

You spoke of these people who produced

and flourished in Teuton Common's time.

You painted hundreds of landscapes here, but

destroyed them.

It was the people and faces that you preferred.

He went to the Ahran Islands and came across

a visual world as exciting as

Chicago.

It's here that the documentaries Robert Flaherty

had made this film, which he'd started

shooting in the same year that you were there.

His eyes scanned between faces to

the camera, pans between them.

Your mother had taken you to see his early film,

Nanook of the North, and you loved it.

Now you were in the world of his movies.

More profiles,

pencil and then ink wash.

Same for Mr Costello.

A Gallaway shopkeeper.

This man has sold himself to the black one.

Your note says.

And so you have devils and wanking around the edge

of the page

and ski slope noses, your most

geometric Irish sketches.

It's like you're using a protractor.

And then you work for Dublin.

Were you famously blagged your way into the Gate

Theater?

You claim to be famous and then in Ireland

became so.

You drew makeup sketches for the performance at

the gate that made headlines.

Carl Alexander.

But again, your eyes darted to new types of faces

in the three on the right.

Your hand was getting freer.

Looking at Irish people was training you to look

to draw.

Talk about taking a line for.

So to your mother's politics and Harlins

now let's add a third encounter with working

people.

Two years after Ireland, you went here.

Morocco.

Another new visual world for you.

A faster place with it.

New polls in your Irish drawings is confidently

done.

Is this guys on the left, his left elbow

and has raised knee.

Less than a dozen pencil lines give us

the shape of his body.

Hundreds, his Juba.

This is better still the diagonal of the

long pipe of the big guy on the left

set the line for the shadows on his face.

JButton legs on the wall on

the left.

You were seeing real people better than ever.

Awesome.

And these three women thing

from left to right, a dark face,

what looks like glasses.

And then that beautiful single eye.

And a drawing like this is echoed 22

years later.

In a moment like this in your film, Mr. Arkadin.

You walked towards us and then one of your frames

within frames.

Also, in the summer of 1933, you went here,

Spain, to the gypsy quarter of Seville.

Working people again,

traditional culture, again, the

non Anglo world, the non Protestant

world, Catholics and Arabs were

more expressive than Protestants.

More visual in the beginning was not

the word.

Your life experience was broadening.

And also in 1933, of course, Hitler

became chancellor of Germany, Italy

was a police state. By then.

Then a year you were in New York doing radio

upon medium intimate and

personal dictators and

Democrats were devoted to it.

It let you get into the minds of the people

and let you whisper to them or boom, that

big voice of yours.

You wanted to be the listeners, Grio, a

conciliatory, their consciousness raiser.

And so you acted as the announcer in a radio

play by Archibald

MacLeish.

It's set in a central square in a city,

a conquerer like Hitler's coming.

It's getting closer and clipped,

English accented voice of the announcer

describing what he sees.

It's coming clear.

The shadow of the sun takes him.

They cover their faces with fingers they color

before they fall this fall on the stone.

He's a long ways walking.

He marches with rattle of metal.

He tremble at the shadow.

He mounts, but the filament stamps on the stairway

turns.

His arm rises.

These guys is opening.

There's no one.

There's no one at all.

No one.

The helmet is hollow.

The metal is empty. The armor is empty.

I tell you, there's no one at all there.

The people invent their oppressors.

They wish to believe in them.

They wish to be free of their freedom.

Look, this is rising.

It arms rising, watching his arm

as it rises.

Shouting

like.

This is a calling.

Fascism as a beast

in Ireland, joujou mostly faces

quite a few of your later paintings and drawings

are faceless.

Like the conqueror was faceless.

Awesome.

And in films, you usually tried to hide your

face under whiskers, a false nose

or thick makeup.

And look awesome at how your wife, Paola,

Beatrice's mother, painted you.

We'll come to your love life later.

But you can't wait for that.

If your mom ceded your political life awesome

on your trips abroad, people it.

The rise of fascism made it ramrod.

So you came here to Harlem and

New York.

The year was 1936.

Your progressive politics were taking on a new

dimension.

The Depression had led the U.S.

government to launch the previous year

a nationwide theater project to give

jobs to unemployed theater and entertainment

workers.

This woman, Holly Flanagan, as much of

an activist as your mother made it happen.

Did she remind you of her?

The Harlem Renaissance had been a big story in the

1920s, but a decade later,

80 percent of Harlemites had no

work.

And you and your team decided to make an

African-American theater production of

Shakespeare's Macbeth.

You were fascinated by Macbeth.

You built a plasticine model of the stage,

a stylized jungle Berkoff was painted.

Production was conceived visually as

a series of pictures and chromatic ascension.

The setting would be Haiti,

the witches would be voodoo.

Ten thousand people showed up at the opening

searchlights.

Roads were blocked.

The excitement of something new, a new

way of seeing and being seen.

Black intellectuals in ermine and jewels.

Inside, what were they about to see,

their own people?

Plasticizers.

At the center of culture

and claim.

Want to see the Lafayette 9 Orson 80 summers

after your triumph?

You sure?

Okay, look.

It's no more.

It's apartments instead.

100000 people saw your voodoo

Macbeth.

The company and the crew of one hundred and ten

African-Americans went on tour with it

around the country.

The wind of change blew through the 1930s,

your 1930s.

The decade when you were in your 20s,

your activism grew.

Since we're talking about social justice,

I bet you're expecting me to mention The Cradle

Will Rock, the most famous left

wing theater story of the time you

directed it.

But the federal theater projects, government

sponsors are there.

Guards padlock the theater.

Are you getting goose bumps thinking about it

after all these years?

What did you do?

Locked out of your own theater?

You and your team had the audience

march way uptown to

an empty theater.

Your fancy sets were left behind.

Union rules meant that your actors couldn't

perform on the new stage.

So all that could happen was that the composer

Mark Bloodstone could sit at a piano

on the empty stage and do the show

alone.

Well, guess what?

Awesome, they've made a film of it.

Cooks up and blitzed and on his own

and nervous.

I

lie.

But then famously, your actors

stood up in the stalls and joined

in.

Spotlight.

And then a crane shot to help the spirits

soar.

Just search

history.

Talk about people's theater.

And in the same year as this.

What a 1937 you had

you major anti-fascism more explicit.

You ripped into another Shakespeare play,

the one that stimulated your visual imagination

most and your political imagination

to Julius Caesar

as a teenager. You do Mark Anthony speech to

the people like this.

He casts a vast shadow

already. You are thinking of Julius Caesar in

terms of lighting.

And look what I found in the box or some

drawings from about 1950.

You were planning a film of Julius Caesar.

You imagine a camera above a light,

a pink and black sky.

Maybe the stormy night in Rome after the plot

to kill Caesar is hatched.

And Luke, you planned to shoot it in Rome's

EU are.

The Chile monumental district built by Mussolini's

fascists.

You saw Caesar as an ancient Mussolini, didn't

you?

And the ancient crowd didn't resist.

They didn't resist the Conqueror MacLeish's

play.

You wanted to use a hanging miniature in front of

the camera.

An old Hollywood technique.

You thought of the capital as a kind of beehive,

but back in 1937, your

visual ideas were even bolder.

It seen images of the Nazi Nuremberg rallies.

The vertical torch lights made columns

like a Roman temple.

So you hide your stage production.

Look the same.

And guess what? Awesome.

They re-created your production in the film,

me and Orson Welles.

Square on shocked that graphic white

lighting camera glides in

as the audience gets engrossed.

Case, but every noise we

still.

And all this before Hitler invaded Poland.

We've come a long way from your mother's

Unitarian, good deeds.

But the story of your social ideas isn't over yet.

Far from it.

You were only 22 when you did Cesar on

the stage after radio

and theater. You found a new medium of the people

movies.

Your first feature, of course, was 'Citizen Kane'.

It changed cinema and is known for its

expressionism and critique of vainglory.

But it's most touching moment is related to

your mother's ideas or your time

in Ireland.

Why did you try laughing at me again?

Charles Foster Kane is in the rented room of

a working class woman, Susan Alexander,

who offered him a place to clean up after

he got covered in mud by a passing car.

I'm wiggling both my ears.

Same time I'm at the top right here.

Photos of a woman who looks a bit like your

mother.

It took me two solid years and the best boy school

in the world to learn that trick fellow taught it

to me. Now the president of Venezuela.

They play a kid's shadow game.

He's famous, but she doesn't know it.

She's probably one of the most ordinary people

he's met in his life.

The camera drifts in the look of love.

Perhaps some of the softest

lighting in the film, your small

tribute to a powerless but sincere

woman. I guess you got onto that.

You know, it turned out a virgin in

Hollywood was more interested in glamorous people

in the 1940s.

But you spoke highly of this unpolished

B-movie.

A scene like this must have caught

your eye.

A white couples in Harlem.

Well, you did your Macbeth and they go into a bar.

No fancy lighting here.

No wells and angles, but a social

setting. Not often seen in escapist

Hollywood cinema.

In its old tree, the film that you shot in Brazil

in the early 1940s but didn't complete.

There's a similar sincerity and

fame that I'm talking about now,

famous in five different

different sound of the world.

They might be different colors

at different churches, but the same

fate, different like over the same hangover,

different joke with the same laugh, the different

humanity.

Thank God for the different because it's out of

those differences, the culture grows

and grows big in all directions.

It's like a Soviet film by Eisenstein.

Brilliant close-ups of On Hollywood's Faces.

And this same track is one of your radio

broadcasts.

But safe in Central America.

Argentina, thank God for Walt Disney

and Captain Grant or fellow Carmen

Miranda. Thank God for Chavez, Villalobos

and a thousand unknown troubadours who improvise

the people song. Thank God for Mark Twain

and Mickey Rooney and all the others

living there.

And look, awesome, low angle, a

girl crying.

And is that your hand reaching up to console

her?

In 1947, Joseph McCarthy was elected

senator in your home state, Wisconsin.

You made political speeches, no.

One said, in this shrinking world,

adult education must first enlist

in the war against provincialism.

Educators are sworn to the tremendous

task of telling people about

each other.

You received hate mail, hundreds of

letters.

One asked if you would allow your daughters

to be touched by Negroes.

Another said, if you and the other Jews of your

class and the Negroes want us to love

you, why not better yourself?

J. Edgar Hoover had your name

added to the security register.

Were you scared? Awesome.

If so, you didn't show it,

especially in the case of the African-American

soldier, Isaac Woodard.

Here's your drawing of him.

In your BBC TV show, Orson Welles Sketchbook.

He told his Story Square on Wall Street,

the camera underplaying your rage

was on a bus and the way fell ill.

He asked the bus driver to let him off.

Bus driver refused.

UCLA was an argument.

The end of which a policeman was called in to drag

the boy out of the bus, took him behind a building

and beat him viciously.

And while he was unconscious, poor Jen over him,

put him in jail, charged he was drunkenness

and assault.

When the boy regained consciousness, he discovered

that he was blind.

The policeman had literally beaten out his eyes.

A terrible crime in itself.

But the fact that Woodard ended up blind

seemed to dig deep into you.

Such a visual person.

And so on radio, you tried to

hunt down the cop who blinded

him.

The policeman's name wasn't known.

So you called him Officer X?

You said that he brought the justice of how and

Fitz to America.

You went on Officer X,

I'm talking to you.

Where stands the sum of common fellowship?

When will it rise in your dark country?

I must know Officer X, because I

must know where the rest of us are going

in our American experiment.

You continued awesome.

We will blast at your name Officer X..

I will find means to remove from you all refuge

Officer X.

You can't get rid of me.

God judge me if this isn't the most pressing

business I have.

The blind soldier fought for me during the war.

I have eyes.

He hasn't.

I have a voice on radio.

Awesome, the research carried out by you and your

associates did help find the officer.

He was chief of police Linwood Linear Schull.

He was tried, found not guilty

and returned to his job.

Years later, again, in your sketchbook program,

you drew out the lesson of the without incident.

Why should I speed it up?

I are leaning forward into the lens,

into your passionate theme.

I'm willing to admit that policeman has a

difficult job, very hard job,

but it's the essence of our society that the

policeman's job should be hard.

He's there to protect, protect the

free citizen, not to chase criminals.

That's an incidental part of his job.

Free citizen is always more of a nuisance to the

policeman than the criminal knows what to do about

the criminal.

I know it's very nice to look out of our window in

our comfortable home and see the policemen that

protecting our home.

We should be grateful for the policeman, but I

think we should be grateful, too, for the

laws which protect us against

the policemen.

Which brings us to here.

Awesome. And another story about the law.

You recognize this place?

One of your favorite cities.

The City of Light.

He drew and painted it.

You've seen the Eiffel Tower 100 times, of course.

But when you see this from the year 2000.

It has sparkled.

We're here. Awesome to end the story of your

political evolution.

You made a film loosely here, the trial

and the novel by Kafka.

In the box, I find this.

I think it's one of your early drawings for the

film.

Joseph Kay, who's accused of an unspecified

crime in the middle, casting a shadow.

On either side are the two agents who arrest

him on his 30th birthday.

In the novel case helped by a painter.

Hence the paintings on the wall.

Is that right?

And above highlight exactly like the one

you sketched for your abandoned film of Julius

Caesar.

You have such lights in the trial.

They're totalitarian for you

or them.

I can't expect you to know where the interrogation

commission is sitting.

That's right. I don't.

But then in Paris, you decided to film

in the abandoned garden or say.

Low angle, plunging perspective

and your drawing comes to life

and one of your screenshots, arrays

like an airplane taking off.

The drawing has that facelessness again.

The trial is about facelessness.

The law has no name Officer

X.

Go ahead with your work. My boy.

The trial was your portrait of the 20th century.

It's deskbound armies of salarymen.

You can't see him now.

He was a René Magritte painting in which the law

played by you is faceless at times.

Any mummified and steaming

like a racehorse.

And you famously changed the ending of the novel

Kafka Joseph K lead the henchman

to the place of his execution.

He acquiesces.

Anthony Perkins whispers at first.

And then yells the yell of the century.

Yeah, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah.

You have to kill me

a salary man in the final solution.

He was a pawn in the game of the

century.

In this on edited hand-held shot, which captures

the atmosphere of a Q&A after a screening

of the trial, you explain your change.

What are the changes you made?

The story was at the very at the very end when

Joseph is killed.

He's killed in a very

alarmingly different way than in the book.

And I was really curious as to

why you changed both the way he was killed and the

way he was acting when he died because the book

was written before the Holocaust.

And I couldn't bear the defeat

of Kay in the book after

the Holocaust.

I'm not Jewish, but we are

all Jewish. Since the Holocaust.

And I couldn't bear for him to submit

to death, as he does

in Kafka Masochistic, fully

submit to death that it it stank

of the old brow Prague ghetto to me.

Your politics had come a long way from Kenosha

and the community tree of your mother.

You'd traveled the world, fallen for Irish

Islanders and Moroccan merchants and

been outraged by racism.

It felt at home in Harlem.

Become an idealist and used three

art forms radio, theater

and film to dramatize and visualize

your ideas.

But the Europe you so admired disgraced itself

in the 1930s and 40s.

And it's hard not to see that disgrace in

some of your drawings.

Even in a scribble on a menu in Rio de Janeiro.

What political smoke signals use and

what a trail you left.

We've tried to follow that trail horse and

see where it leads.

Eight years after you died, there was a movie

called Groundhog Day in which the same

elements were relived over and over.

It's sometimes good to rewind the clock, isn't it?

It's good to look at our life again

through another lens.

What's the story of your love life?

Awesome.

You'd probably prefer me to talk about politics

and love, but you're not here to stop me.

You traveled the world and fell in love

everywhere.

What and who and how did you love?

I think there are five answers.

You loved places he loved visually.

You believed in the chivalry.

Love does if it was

a waltz.

You are an omnivorous lover and you felt

the guilt and end of love.

Let's start with your love of places

and this place, Arizona.

When you lived here, you didn't go for walks, but

you seem to have loved the sunshine

crayon on watercolor paper.

The opposite of that totalitarian spotlight.

Chalk and paint and felt to pen to conjure

a storm over the Red Rocks.

The first place you loved was Grand

Detour, Illinois, your father,

Dick. It took you traveling on

this hotel there.

Dick built a ballroom on the first floor and

you recalled sneaking up there at night

in the moonlight and dancing

and you had a hut across from it.

Who's your arch to do it when you were a boy at

it in the bottom left of this picture?

Awesome.

Did you know the hotel burned down?

Look what's there now.

He called grandaughter one of those lost

worlds. One of those etten's

that you get thrown out of.

Look awesome.

It's still a kind of Eden.

Your first love.

For the rest of your life, you talked about places

of pre-industrial innocence.

Mary Englands you often call them.

Timeless places of joy, unspoilt

nature and love.

I hate to do this to yourson, but here's another

Eden, a snowy Eden in

'Citizen Kane' and building like the Sheffield

Hotel.

Be careful, Joe, blow your muffler

around your neck.

I think will have to tell him now.

Yes.

I'll sign those papers now that

people seem to forget that I'm the boy's father.

Parents are doing as yours did in

the Sheffield Co..

I don't see why we can't raise our own son just

because of the money he met with mischance.

Your film Chimes at Midnight was part set

in such an Eden.

The Boar's Head Tavern.

You love to have actors, swell women and

laughter.

It was a labyrinth.

This pleasure dome is playpen.

And you designed and oversaw the painting of it

yourself.

The place from your unconscious in

which you wake up as Falstaff.

Here's where you shot some of the Boar's Head

Tavern scenes in Spain.

Another one of your beloved places.

This guy was in the film and still lives here.

What other places did you love?

Three hundred and nineteen West 14th Street,

Manhattan, where you lived with your first

wife, Virginia.

It's Gothic and your drawing.

But guess what? Orson it's still here.

You said that it had space charm,

electric icebox, garden and all

for fifty five dollars a month.

Virginia's having the time of our life here.

A real home. And all the rest of it.

With Virginia, you had your first daughter, Chris.

And in The Magnificent Ambersons, there's another

Paradice Christmas

kind of scene with bells on the same track.

The snow was a blanket and the clarinet.

All right.

There already is about.

There's no bags of other bags.

Only in a studio could such an idealized scene

be shot.

And that's what you used, the biggest ice box

in Los Angeles.

It was on this corner, but it's gone now.

This part of downtown L.A.

is now one of the most deprived the U.S..

Paradises don't last.

The second aspect of your love life is how

visual it was when

you were 17. You saw this film

2N Del Rio Swims Naked.

You fell in love with her visually and

later became her lover in real life.

The man in this scene is Joel McCrea.

But the imagery sums up your love

life, staring obsessive

love at first glance, moonlit

and flickering. To capture the look of love.

What looking feels like.

You and Dolores.

Beatrice says that she was the true love of your

life.

And the lady from Shanghai.

A camera glided towards another of your loves.

Rita Hayworth.

It was your eyes.

You saw her on the cover of Life magazine

and immediately pledged to marry her

dearest little loved one.

You wrote, I love

you more tonight than ever.

Really? Really.

Even more.

And how's this for the look of love?

You move in again, the point

of view of a kiss.

A change

in her skills on return of.

Framed on one of your famed diagnose.

Then you seem summoned from below.

Drawn by her tractor beam,

your makeup artist wanted to put beads of sweat

on her beret, but you said horses

sweat. Rita glows.

She kept her love letters, notes in her makeup

books for years.

With Rita, of course, you had your second

daughter, Rebecca.

You cast your third wife, Paola,

as your daughter.

Mr. Clinton, Morsan

film about a powerful man with a mysterious past.

I want to speak to my father.

Have you see? Can you give Pilar these concerned

close-ups?

She hears that her father was less than he seeming

away. Tell him it's too late.

Too late.

His relationship with your mother.

Did he hurt? Oh, he would.

Yes. I mean, how they met.

They were in Phrygian and she was walking

on the beach and he was with Visconti and

he saw and he said, I got to meet her.

So she was a young starlet.

And the next day, she got a phone call

and it was this Conti's assistant

and said, you know, Mr. Visconti would like for

you to do a trial.

And she was so excited.

And of course, SIPTU at rushing over there

earnings that she met Orson Welles.

In 1961, while filming the trial,

you met. Oh, Yaku da.

She became your long term lover and companion.

Look how you introduced her in a Hefe for fake

glimpsed, glanced at gold

long lens, the center of a network

of men's looks.

An eye opener.

No scene in your film is more about looking

in splinters and seductions.

The look of love as a mosaic.

So you loved places, Orson, and you loved

visually.

The third aspect of your love life

is its attraction to chivalry.

The millennium old idea of the chivalrous

knight in love is so archaic,

so like a faded pencil.

Lantle, look, I'm gonna be a Syrian led

to the Middle Ages.

But more than most artists of the 20th century

have filled in the line drawings.

You believed in these samurai, these

courtiers who behaved with honor.

By the rules of love and courtship from the era

of the Magna Carta, the myths held

true for centuries.

One of the best interviews you give to Bernard

Levin was not only takes this further, you're

leaning forward again on the subject

and in profile at first.

And I'm rather fond of chivalry and honor.

And I I

to use it to the hackneyed

drugstore psychiatry word.

I identify with Quixote to the extent

that I am interested in outmoded virtues,

the virtues of chivalry and yes, on

personal honor and courage and things like that.

Well, you're clearly a romantic.

Whatever else you want.

As much as it is, I think it

is. Aren't you a romantic in a very unromantic

time, you guess?

Do you feel out of your time?

Oh, yes, but I don't think every self-respecting

artist talked to.

Which brings us awesome to the most out of time

night in your art, an absurd

but glorious man who rails against

everything and doesn't seem to realize that

chivalry is long dead.

He was one of your obsessions, this man.

He made what you called a home movie.

But Don Quixote and his sidekick, Squire

Central Panter, others will cheer you from

the window.

You filmed the dawn against the sky, his

head in the clouds

giving up the princess.

But you are

not only a bit.

And here's a woman which tells us something about

the dawn and the love he

thinks the woman gets.

Paola has been kidnaped

by the vestberg.

Who? This lunatic.

Don't get updated. I'm on shock.

Knight errant than ever.

The gallant knight. He wants to rescue her.

This isn't your editing, of course.

You never finished the film.

But does the moment capture some of the energy you

wanted? The absurdity,

but also Don's desire to

do the right thing.

You treat your liver.

That's not a promise you'll go to.

Oh, I don't know.

And in your painting, the Dons head is against

the sun.

Like Icarus.

Such a delicate man in your painting,

he'll be burnt.

The dawn doesn't look at Central Pend.

In the book and film, they bicker.

But you have them joined at the hip.

They're on the road of life together, opposites

but indivisible, yin and yang,

your essential Penza is thick smears

at the Donze Elbel.

A blur to him in some ways.

And love in other ways, you relish

this.

The thickness of their story.

Their themes, their history.

The novel's author, 70s, set out to mock

chivalry, but ended up celebrating

it.

Maybe Laurel and Hardy were the knights

of your time.

And your one painting of a bullfighter is night

like.

He's a slayer in a swirl of light, like

your son George with his dragon against the sun,

like Don Quixote, his head Lord,

as if in prayer at his own violence.

The figure in your arc that you loved most

was another night, but a penniless one

who lived in the boar's head, one of your Eden's.

On the Dean Martin Show, you painted him in a way,

but the canvass was your own face.

You might call a swinger.

Late 18th century.

They didn't call him swingers, but they swung.

And nobody more so than Sir John.

Your intensity, if

we get to speak, is if you're lost in the

transformation.

You're a funny man, he was a fat man.

He was a great man then Shakespearean

language with.

He said himself.

You was not only Widdy and MSL.

At the cause, which was in other men.

A huge chill about

this town of man.

This Reverend Feis.

Gray and equidae

then eatin' again.

He was a spokesman.

You might say for marrying

the old Mary England of

Maine mornings and Midsummer Eves.

And even villainy was innocent.

And of course, she filmed Falstaff Chimes at

midnight.

Your drawings for the Battle of Shrewsbury

sequence are a gallery of horsemen

of chevallier

compan.

Colored brush and pen.

This swiftest in the best brush

only.

In Poe's and concision, it's as good as

this.

This bed scene in Chimes at midnight, which you

don't hear shit, Prince Howe and his friend

Nail points his remarkable recovery.

You get up and move left and then

a swirl of movement like a 60s love-in.

I owe her money. Whether she'd be dead for that,

I don't know.

Might not fall anyway.

Like a Tintoretto painting.

Like you, he like to have people almost roll in

the foreground.

He looked up at the world.

He's about everybody in bed.

The camaraderie of love,

the beds here is another Eden

of I was there is Beatrice.

All right. Felt good about you.

And it brings us to the fourth aspect of your love

life after place, visual

ality and chivalry.

How omnivorous you were.

Your relationships with the man you loved weren't

sexual, but it sounds as if they

were as intense as those with women.

Your letters are full of ardent love for

male friends.

You adored use of cotton, didn't you?

Can I mention John Heisman?

Here in New York in December 1934,

age 19.

You were playing Tybalt and Romeo and Juliet.

A British Romanian grain merchant turned

theater producer came to see the show.

It was Heisman.

He called your performance obscene, terrible

and driven by some irresistible interior

violence.

He visited your dressing room and found

you half naked.

The two of you went outside to a nearby bar.

Your dedicated biographer, Simon Callow,

says you wooed Iceman.

You said that he fell in love with you.

It was part of a pattern.

You seem to become addicted to Jack Carter,

the actor who played the lead in your voodoo

Macbeth.

You threw your arms around him crying with

gratitude. According to Houseman.

You wooed him and went carousing with

him in the bars of Harlem.

You loved as passionately as a bullfighter

fights.

But of course, the bull fight ends and death.

Which brings us to the last aspect of your love

life. Guilt and the death of

love.

Even Thomas is badass.

Give me the.

The lady from Shanghai.

Again, you and Rita look purposefully

ahead, but she steers.

I was taught to think about love in Chinese,

the way a Frenchman thinks about laughter

French.

The Chinese say.

It is difficult for love to last long.

Therefore, one who loves passionately

is cured.

That's a hard way of thinking.

But it seems borne out by your love life.

Awesome.

It was full of guilt and sadness.

Your relationship with Heyworth quickly waned.

You draw yourself crying.

And in one of your most surprising images

also for Haber's, you have a devil visit

you in her absence.

You had affairs is the devil.

Your guilt or your guilt and sadness

combined.

He called this pencil and watercolor sketch with

its miserable sun, another self

portrait of self-pity.

And how about this?

You're far from Eden here.

The smoke from the factories gathers to show

your mood.

In 168th. And then there's this drawing of Bhola,

right, pregnant and she's had a horrible

pregnancy. She must be a bitch and

pregnant with you. Yeah.

I feel lousy is one of your most ambiguous

drawings, Orson.

Are you just recording Paolo's feeling bad

or empathizing with it or mirroring

it? Is it you that feels bad?

You showed the death of love.

The perversion of love most visually

awesome in Morocco

and Venice.

You know what I'm going to say, don't you?

A fellow sufferer,

I know how

bad you.

A fellow killed Desdemona.

Facelessness night.

Is murder.

He's blinded by jealousy.

Another margarita painting.

And when she's dead.

This

circle in the ceiling was inspired by this

Montagnier painting and Mantua, wasn't

it?

You had a ceiling built to echo it visually.

And before James Bond films, you liked to circular

ceiling only to be used for Jean

Vigo cameras low enough to short well to

hailo him to anti-Hitler him.

Sophie, what was her last name?

She married years ago.

What's her married name?

Nothing extenuate, no set down in malice.

Love as hell.

Not even to speak.

You had the camera on a scaffold here.

Wisely, but.

Is that how you loved not wisely,

but too well?

But love doesn't just perish naturally.

In Shakespeare's play, it's poisoned by

Jagow whispering gossip in the murder

of fellow's ear.

You talked well in filming Othello.

It's like an art critic.

Does the film was more an illustrated lecture

than a documentary?

The visual style of the film

mirrors the marriage at the center

of the play, which is not that

also on Desdemona.

The first marriage of or fellow

the either filming Othello

had a late night film to multiply

like so many, and you were both cautious and

bold and how you discussed your film

and used clips.

Now the grandeur and simplicity

are the more the dizzying

camera movements, the tortured compositions,

the grotesque shadows and insane

distortion.

The Argo, he is the

agent of chaos.

Jagow torpedoes the marriage with gossip.

You did it with style.

The death of love.

The back of love.

They're not much fun to talk about.

Are they arson?

I wonder, am I losing you here?

We're getting on to kingship in a moment, but

before we do, one more Kord about

passion dying.

It's in chimes at midnight again.

And you know what's coming, don't you?

The most resonant line in your art.

Here it is in your screenplay in Michigan.

Are you ready to be heartbroken?

I know the not old man.

The prince. The boy says to the man

that the dream is over.

Their friendship is over.

Vertical spears like the Nuremberg searchlights.

Then you break through

the back of the new king year old drinking

and cavorting, pal.

Bye bye.

Show.

Speak to me by heart.

I know being not old man faltered,

I praise.

Al White has become a fool

and gesta.

I have long dreamed of such a kind of man,

so surface swell, so old

and so profane, but being awake,

I do despise my dream.

Despise this body, wouldn't reject

have been enough?

Shakespeare's pen was a dagger here, a grave

to keep for the not only an end of

love, but a rewrite of its history.

Till then, I banish thee on pain

of death as I have done the rest for my

mislead us not to come near

our passing by.

Ten by.

And Falstaff falls to his knees

like John Heisman did as he realizes

he has the power and who can control the

love means and hurls

exclusion order.

You wanted to be full staff.

Awesome.

But let's face it, you ask how

qualities give you?

The prince, the night

loving a lot, but in your

exhilaration.

Moving on to other loves, other

worlds.

So we move on to our next world.

Oh, the decent people in your life and work.

Awesome. Your mother, your head teacher,

Michael O'Hara and the lady from Shanghai.

Joseph Cotton's character, Jedediah Leland.

And 'Citizen Kane'.

Don Quixote.

Charlton Heston's Character and 'Touch of Evil'.

Sir John Falstaff.

These knights and pongs are often exemplary

and right.

But there's another type of person excited you

more.

Dove deeper into your unconscious and you find

him there.

This creature from the Black Lagoon, he

is, of course, the king.

You mocked the king and chimes at midnight.

You can't even get up onto his throne.

He has a port for a crown and speaks

like John Gielgud.

I do not only marvel well,

I'll spend say, time.

So was a.

But you were attracted to the grandeur of

kingship.

Admited awesome.

Your tastes were regal.

Is it true that the director, Richard Fleischer,

once accused you of treating a lowly photographer

as if you are royalty?

I am royalty.

You barked back.

He used to say that you're a king actor.

And you were fascinated by Latvian gun runner

and friend of Nazis himura and Gehring.

His name was Michael OLIEN in this time

in this mansion designed by Rafaelle.

He should have played Napoleon or

Henry the eighth.

Actor Geraldine Fitzgerald said that you were like

a lighthouse when you were

and has been.

He was utterly dazzling.

When the beam moves on, you're plunged into

darkness.

Kinship. In your work is visual about

lawmaking, suffocating,

isolating and about ambition,

totalitarianism, corruption

and madness.

Let's take a visual first.

Awesome.

Most aspects of your visual style were extravagant

as we saw in the porn section.

You had moments of realism in your work.

But you mostly rejected them, you famously

walked out of this film, Lucchino Visconti's

Neorealist LEITHEAD A tremor.

It's hard to imagine you doing a simple pan

like this.

Shoulder height to show a fisherman

scene. Naturally,

this was more your style.

Macbeth at Distant Castle.

Misty MiddleGround.

It's like Charles Foster Keynes isolated castle.

Castles fired your imagination.

Especially if they were crumbling.

This etching of yours looks like there's been a

fire.

You had an eye on Piran Azeez imaginary prison

sketches of the seventeen hundreds.

The land you like to use most 18.5

was a king land.

You could say it made the world bulge

the is the marble, it is the rock.

You slung at low, of course, to make four grand

people massive cramped

confinement bound into

Soshi doubts and fears

to make patterns between near and far.

It was expressionists, this lens.

It was good to abstraction between

classes I took over.

Beyond visual things, King men

are lawmakers and law breakers.

That lends again a seated king,

an insolent press baron Arsdale JUILA.

You provide the prose poems.

I'll provide the war that

I like to write.

And here in your late film, The Immortal Story,

you're a king of sorts in a carriage.

The running man is a sailor you've just picked up.

You'll pay him to have sex with a woman.

You're a Benny king making

the rules, setting down the law,

treating others like the homes

you arrived, where the sex has to happen in your

own home in Madrid.

Awesome.

And here's your Hank Quinlan and 'Touch of Evil'

barely first, then looming above the camera,

then a whale's in body twist.

He's a king in his own mind, a detective.

He thinks the laws for little people, for poems,

not for him, he's above the law

and bend to his will.

Beyond their visual and legal lives,

your kings are often suffocated or imprisoned.

They're trapped inside their castles.

They can't escape their own power,

their own thoughts.

Their echo chambers.

Beatrice tells us this was painted in frustration

at the Universal Film Studios, stopping you

completing 'Touch of Evil'.

It's an isolation picture, too, isn't it?

Appear uneasy in the desert.

You were the king forced to abdicate.

Intense visuals, a man above the law.

Isolation.

You know where this is leading, I'm sure.

To Scotland. And your film?

Macbeth.

It first imagined my bath in your teens

in this drawing and your everybody's Shakespeare

book and we've seen your Voodoo

Macbeth of 1936.

Just nine years later.

What a long nine years they must have seemed

two marriages, WOR radio stardom,

Hollywood fame for films.

You were filming it on the cheap for a B movie

studio.

You imagined the film's landscape with angular

trees against the sky.

The film would be shot quickly in the studio.

So you came up with this main set.

Scotland can sometimes look like a production.

Designers had a hand in it.

The characters were to be horned like cattle

or rams.

It was your most graphic film.

The witches pagan symbols that

set it looked like something you'd see in a fish

tank, an underwater Macbeth.

Perhaps your

contrasts were violent

slo mo mist then dissolve

to this Close-Up.

One of the most contrasty images in American

film.

Then we're behind the head of Macbeth.

This king whose ambition is detestable,

this Hank Quinlan, the Stellan.

This Foust

the real world seemed to enter the film as a

nightmare.

Macbeth.. So in the shadow of himself

that he doesn't even realize that he's free.

He feels railroaded by the witches prophecy.

He's a slave to his own lust for power.

You've dived so deep nigh that you're in the land

of the surreal.

The colonnade.

It's like a Caraco nightmare painting.

Orson.

At least categorize lable image in macbeth.

and in all your art, I think is

the shot. Awesome.

It looks like Klyde scene from an airplane.

Or an archipelago with a colossus ending

in it.

Turtle.

Macbeth's one of the few films I wanted to draw

as I watched.

The fourth aspect of your kingship is its

totalitarianism and corruption.

These themes are in Sezer, of course,

and in your Cesare a Borgia and the film Prince

of Foxes draw a map of all he

conquers the King, actors,

big shoulders and flowing gun.

The ultimate goal.

Wanted to.

One kingdom, one king

shares a border.

You made Prince of Foxes in the same year.

You played your most corrupt character,

Harry Lime, who profiteers from penicillin

stolen from hospitals.

He famously talks of the Borgias as

you casually put on gloves and the camera lines

in what the fella sends

naturally for 30 years under the Borgias.

They had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed,

but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci

and the Renaissance in Switzerland.

Brotherly love.

500 years of democracy and peace.

And what did that produce?

The cuckoo clock.

Call it a scene you wrote, of

course, cinema's most famous strike

of the authoritarian bell.

In the late 1930s, before 'Citizen Kane',

you were to make a film about an even more

dangerous man, ivory trader.

KURTZ And Joseph Conrad's novella,

Heart of Darkness.

Here's your sketch of the compound where he lives

in 1938.

You adapted to darkness for radio.

You played Kurtz, of course, and tried to

capture his genius, his panic,

his tyranny.

A way of life is weird

enough to effectively back my station

freshies mine.

I have no right to take me away.

Bank manager Lubitsch

Yojimbo wants my hobby.

His Verloc major.

Why? Don't excite yourself.

You're

sick,

not so sick if you'd like to believe.

Heart of darkness is set during one of the worst

human atrocities.

Orson Belgium's colonization

of the Congo.

KURTZ was for you a fascist

king.

That's the end of the king line, in a way.

Except for one more thing, the madness

of kingship.

In 1953, you played King Lear

live on TV.

That lolking angle, that roaring

king of voice,

he says, Oh, let me not be mad.

Not mad, sweet heaven.

But he's driven by the burdens of power

and family.

The camera pulls out and lightning

and that expressionism again.

Did you intend this to be Lere Lawson?

It's like it's raining here or it's a lightning

storm.

You did Christopher Marlowe's first on stage

in 1937.

You heard him say, I refused to be

insane. I do not claim the sanctuary

of the madhouse.

Do not think I stumbled into the pit.

Pray for the free man who damned hymns

of.

Did you dam yourself?

Awesome.

And if so, for what?

Politics.

Love power.

Glory.

Excitment.

Loneliness define

fury.

Dear mom, I pray

in your letters when you show

these unlucky deeds and

speak of me as nothing

extenuate.

So the world kept turning

after high tide.

Who'd have guessed?

It sounds as if I'd have taken to the

21st century.

I wasn't tired of living.

I wasn't tired of Rs.

In your letter, mark, you'll split

my politics from my love.

But the same thing.

Or at least hold the same route.

You missed how, honey.

I found it all.

You do know that life is a circus.

Don't show.

Beatrice still seems to.

Was this Martha in your box?

No.

My ending was the lady from Shanghai

at a print shop sidewalk

intending to find.

Everybody is.

Somebody is cool.

The only way to stay out of trouble is to grow.

So I guess I'll concentrate on

maybe our lives or long.

Maybe I'm a guy

that's more important than the ending of the

trial.

And as you're so taken by my drawings.

How about this one

lady would be a woman.

Johnson is not only a brawling,

bumbling and inept

pursed lips.

I adore her.

The toffs were their drinkers.

Noses and eyes closed

amidst all the power and politics

of which you speak. My line ran naturally

to doodles like this.

Does he remind you of anyone?

And several lifetimes ago, before

Cain, I made a large number of phone

calls, too much jobs.

There was a scene where a well-dressed young man

on police officers had their hats

removed.

It was absurd, like a Mack Senate

comedy.

That's cluelessness again.

Like so much life.

And since you mention Mr. Archi

call if you its climax

a stalk of the film like a shadow.

But the world of my story is absurd.

Kim's character Zouk was Luster's at its

peak. If he catches me out here dancing

around in my arms, does

it remind you of anything?

Laurel and Hardy, perhaps.

My camera was usual a low, of course,

but the humanity in Stein and Dolly

is the same childish.

The circus.

The comedic de la Punchinello.

What's new in the UK called Punch and Judy?

I did scores of pictures and sent

pics.

There were conventional ones in the red

and white.

It come down the chimney.

I'll be by the fire.

But I remember that as I drew,

he started to look like he was on the stage

taking a ball per chance

call.

Those with a keen eye might say I paid

to do more and more, so emerge

with some of the things that I admire.

And he morphed, his colors

changed, but Red disappeared,

rather a trunk to his nose.

UC Santa is becoming a drinker

like Christmas for

a drunk.

Sir John, step

more cards. I did, the more rapid I became,

the colors leached out

day became night, and this Christmas, Carol

of mine

debacle grow.

And then even the nose was no longer

red.

They took on the tone of a lot of my

work.

Call it dark exuberance, if

you like.

That's what the lady from Shanghai was.

I don't like baths, canibus

and excessive.

I've often said that Cain has the same

tension.

Cain himself is proposed to fast

close to parity, close to burlesque.

That roller coaster you showed was like the great

here in the United

States.

I was a satirist.

Didn't you see that?

A was training.

What happens when it fragos

absurdity becomes the norm?

The sites and thralls of lust doing spare

hours more thrive than I that spends

her life upon my cause.

How is Ireland these days?

Yours, Arsen.

Dear Orson, I just imagined

that you wrote back to me.

I wish you had.

How do I finish a letter like this?

Should I mention that there's been another

financial crash?

Who's a Wall Street screwed up like

they did in 1929?

This is Kenosha, where you were born.

No.

Parts of it looked like a deserted Hollywood

studio, a backlot.

More images from the 1930s.

The Great Depression that followed the Wall Street

crash helped form, didn't it?

Awesome. Will our new depression make

a new awesome?

Beatrice had an on opened letter from you

to your guardian Dadda benching.

This letter was written on the 14th of October in

1931 when

dad was still living in Chicago.

Any of these unopened?

Top man.

Funny you forgot to post something.

This is insane.

We were hoping that there'd be some secret in that

envelope. PAWSON Some new way of

seeing you.

Isn't that why?

But maybe what was in the box and what's

in the University of Michigan archive?

There's a bit of a new way of seeing you.

There's nothing in Agnes.

Your art has made me look again at your life and

work.

This scene in Mr. Codon, for example.

Oh, it isn't. That's what all these crazy

Frankensteins.

Well, you don't understand supposed to

represent the paintings.

Now some of it comes with visions and monsters.

Boy, oh, boy.

Glad to meet you.

It's a Goya painting with an added bench

of Tusa from sternbergh.

In the same film, this scene near the start

is what graphic certainly

it's a murder and chase moment, but who's

being shot or why doesn't seem to be

your main concern.

You're more taken by the steam of the train

ships within the frame, the angles,

the cubism.

And then the lady from Shanghai, you painted

these sets yourself, didn't you?

And that was not you walk through a lattice

shards, a constructivist design.

If the cops traced it to Grisby like

this one by ALEXANDRA Extern.

And a few scenes later in your hall of mirrors.

We're in the land of my bridge.

Play it your way.

You didn't love panel imagery

erotic.

In love with lenses.

And then the lady from Shanghai is like a drawing

or a knew about her.

She planned to kill Bannister.

She and Grisby.

Isn't that it?

Is that what's been on the tip of my tongue in

this letter?

Many of your films are like charcoal drawings,

hair nets and grills are hatchings

shadings.

Mr. Carden, you used the Segovia Aqueduct

like an architectural drawing.

Oh, I went.

As I'm thinking this, I see this scene

in the lady from Shanghai.

Rita wants her cigaret lit.

Your shot sweeps left with it.

Mano a mano.

There's no story need to do this, but there's a

graphic need, a drawing need.

God will never be too old to earn a salary.

And then the shot comes back again, following

the cigaret again.

Two simple moments, but they're like this

drawing of yours.

Or this destroying.

That's it.

That's my light bulb moment.

Awesome.

That's what's been on the tip of my tongue.

Your visual thinking.

You thought with lines and shapes,

your films are sketchbooks.

Calligraphy.

That's why people who love Laurence Olivier's

literary and psychological Shakespeare films

don't like yours.

Yours were rougher and more to do with space

and graphics and power.

Once I realize this, I discover

that it's sort of said it already.

He told one of your biographers that Macbeth

was a violent charcoal sketch of the play.

And the Nazi Party's filmmaker, Leni Riefenstahl,

of all people, wasn't far off

when she said that Welles draws

marvelous pictures in the margins

of Shakespeare.

F for fake was a sketchbook unfolded

paper touch of evals of fresco.

The trial is like a lino cut

Macbeth. The Lady from Shanghai, Othello

and Mr. Arkadin scratch at

their characters like your quill and

ink scratched in the TV sketches.

Approximately excitingly,

but in a way that many find too sharp.

They make you seem mad for contact with

the world, taking its fragments roughly

and absorbing them into yourself to

make art that jagged and fractured.

In 1953, you went here,

Edinburgh and Scotland, and made a speech about

the future of the movies.

You said that a Hollywood film needs an audience

of 60 million people to break even.

But you dreamt of smar more distinctive films

that could speak to 2 million people.

Guess what? Orson from the future.

I can tell you that your dream is sort of

country.

Film technology has changed massively since she

died.

If many of your films were like sketches,

if you dreamt of a camera being more like a

pencil, your dream is coming

true.

More than ever, you can draw with a camera.

No.

Studio cinema was like history painting.

Knife film is more like oil painting.

And look at this.

An oil painting of, you know,

it's an accident.

Our computer didn't copy some footage of you

properly and so it pixelated it

and it looks like Manet or Rembrandt.

We're back in the 1940s when you were making

'Citizen Kane'. You and cinematographer Gregg

Toland dreamt of a time when

there would be no film and the camera would be an

electronic eye.

That dream has come tree to.

On the morning of October the 10th, nineteen

eighty five, you died.

It was said that you were at your typewriter when

it happened.

This typewriter.

But your life probably ended in your bathroom.

But still, is this one of the last things

in the world those great eyes of yours

saw? Awesome.

If you're alive now, if you were still

seeing, you could be making so

many films.

Your archetypes, pond, knights,

kings and jesters are as relevant

as ever.

Your friend Kenneth Tynan said when writing

about you, the B will always

make honey.

What, honey?

You made.

What, honey? You could have made.

In an interview 1962, you

said being alive means not

killing the tensions one carries within

oneself.

On the contrary, support must seek out

and cultivate his contradictions.

Buzzed with contradictions or awesomer,

you love porn's nights and

games.

Do I contradict myself?

Very well, then I contradict.

I am large, I contain

multitudes.

I, too, am not a bit tamed.

I, too, am untranslatable.

I sound my barbaric

your over the roofs of

the world.

We can still hear your sound.

Awesome.

And most of all, we can still

look through your eyes.

Look, their Sancho Panza, my friend,

and see those 30 or so wild giants

with whom I intend to do battle and kill each and

all of them.

What Giants Ass and Chapin's are

the ones you can see over there?

Answered his master with the huge arms.

Now look, Greece.

It's unsure what you see over.

There aren't giants, but windmills,

obviously, replied Don Quixote.

You don't know much about adventures.