All language subtitles for Citizen.Kane.1941.2160p_[ENG]_withLyrics

Rosebud.

News On The March.

Legendary was the Xanadu
where Kubla Khan decreed

his stately pleasure dome.

Today, almost as legendary
is Florida's Xanadu,

world's largest private pleasure ground.

Here on the deserts of the Gulf Coast,

a private mountain was commissioned
and successfully built.

One hundred thousand trees,
20,000 tons of marble

are the ingredients of Xanadu is mountain.

Contents of Xanadu is palace —

paintings, pictures, statues,
the very stones of many another palace.

A collection of everything,

so big it can never
be cataloged or appraised.

Enough for ten museums —
the loot of the world.

Xanadu's livestock —

the fowl of the air, the fish of the sea,

the beasts of the field and jungle.

Two of each.

The biggest private zoo since Noah.

Like the pharaohs,

Xanadu's landlord leaves
many stones to mark his grave.

Since the pyramids,

Xanadu is the costliest monument
a man has built to himself.

Here in Xanadu, last week,
Xanadu is landlord was laid to rest,

a potent figure of our century —

America's Kubla Khan,

Charles Foster Kane.

Its humble beginnings in this
ramshackle building, a dying daily.

Kane's empire in its glory
held dominion over 37 newspapers,

two syndicates, a radio network,

an empire upon an empire.

The first of grocery stores,

paper mills, apartment buildings,

factories, forests, ocean liners —

an empire through which for 50 years
flowed in an unending stream

the wealth of the Earth's
third richest gold mine.

Famed in American legend
is the origin of the Kane fortune,

how to boardinghouse keeper Mary Kane,
by a defaulting boarder in 1868,

was left the supposedly worthless deed

to an abandoned mine shaft,
the Colorado Lode.

Fifty-seven years later,
before a congressional investigation,

Walter P. Thatcher,
grand old man of Wall Street,

for years chief target
of Kane papers' attacks on trusts,

recalls a journey he made as a youth.

My firm had been appointed trustee
by Mrs. Kane

for a large fortune
which she recently acquired.

It was her wish that I should take charge
of this boy, this Charles Foster Kane.

- Is it not a fact...
- Mr. Johnson!

- ...that on this occasion...
- Mr. Johnson!

...that boy, Charles Foster Kane,
personally attacked you

after striking you
in the stomach with a sled?

Mr. Chairman. Mr. Chairman.

I shall read to the committee
a prepared statement

which I have brought with me,

and I shall then refuse
to answer any further questions.

"Mr. Charles Foster Kane,
in every essence of his social beliefs,

"and by the dangerous manner

"in which he has persistently attacked
the American traditions

"of private property, initiative
and opportunity for advancement,

"is in fact nothing more or less
than a communist."

That same month in Union Square...

...till the words
"Charles Foster Kane"

are a menace to every
working man in this land.

He is today what he has always been

and always will be — a fascist.

And still another opinion...

Kane urged his country's
entry into one war,

opposed participation in another.

Swung the election to one
American president at least.

Spoke for millions of Americans.

Was hated by as many more.

For 40 years appeared in Kane newsprint

no public issue on which
Kane papers took no stand.

No public man whom Kane himself
did not support or denounce.

Often support...

then denounce.

Twice married, twice divorced.

First to a president's niece,

Emily Norton, who left him in 1916.

Died 1918 in a motor accident
with their son.

Sixteen years after his first marriage,

two weeks after his first divorce,

Kane married Susan Alexander, singer,

at the town hall in Trenton, New Jersey.

For wife two,
onetime opera-singing Susan Alexander,

Kane built Chicago's
Municipal Opera House.

Cost — three million dollars.

Conceived for Susan Alexander Kane,

half-finished before she divorced him,

the still-unfinished Xanadu.

Cost — no man can say.

Kane, molder of mass opinion
though he was,

in all his life was never granted
elective office

by the voters of his country.

But Kane papers were once strong indeed,

and once the prize seemed almost his.

In 1916, as independent candidate
for governor,

the best elements of the state behind him,

the White House seemingly
the next easy step

in a lightning political career.

Then suddenly,

less than one week
before election, defeat.

Shameful, ignominious.

Defeat that set back for 20 years
the cause of reform in the US,

forever canceled political chances
for Charles Foster Kane.

Then in the first year
of the Great Depression,

a Kane paper closes.

For Kane, in four short years, collapse.

Eleven Kane papers merged.

More sold, scrapped.

Is that correct?

Don't believe everything
you hear on the radio.

Uh, read the Inquirer.

How did you find, uh,
business conditions in Europe?

Uh, how did I find business conditions
in Europe, Mr. Bones?

With great difficulty.

Are you glad to be back, Mr. Kane?

I'm always glad to be back, young man.
I'm an American.

Always been an American. Anything else?

When I was a reporter, we asked them
quicker than that. Come on, young fella.

Well, what do you think of the chances
for war in Europe?

Uh, I've talked with the responsible
leaders of the great powers —

England, France, Germany and Italy.

They're too intelligent
to embark on a project

which would mean the end of civilization
as we now know it.

You can take my word for it.
There'll be no war.

Kane helped to change the world,

but Kane's world now is history

and the great yellow journalist himself
lived to be history,

outlived his power to make it.

Alone in his never-finished,
already-decaying pleasure palace,

aloof, seldom visited, never photographed,

an emperor of newsprint continued
to direct his failing empire,

vainly attempted to sway, as he once did,

the destinies of a nation
that had ceased to listen to him,

ceased to trust him.

Then last week, as it must to all men,

death came to Charles Foster Kane.

News On The March.

- That's it.
- Hello, hello.

Stand by.
I'll tell you if we want to run it again.

- How about it, Mr. Rawlston?
- How do you like it, boys?

Well, 70 years in a man's life.

That's a lot
to try to get into a newsreel.

It's a good short, Thompson,
but what it needs is an angle.

All we saw on that screen
was that Charles Foster Kane is dead.

I know that. I read the papers.

You see, Thompson, it isn't enough
to tell us what a man did.

You've got to tell us who he was.

Certainly! Wait a minute!

What were Kane's last words?

- Do you remember, boys?
- Huh? Yes. Where?

What were the last words he said on Earth?

Maybe he told us all about himself
on his deathbed.

Yeah, and maybe he didn't. Maybe--

- All we saw was a big American.
- One of the biggest!

But how is he any different from Ford?
Or Hearst, for that matter? Or John Doe?

Yeah, sure.

I tell you, Thompson,
a man's dying words--

- What were they?
- You don't read the papers.

When Charles Foster Kane died,
he said just one word.

"Rosebud".

- Tough guy, huh?
- Yes, "Rosebud." Just that one word.

- But who is she?
- What was it?

Here's a man
that could have been president,

who was as loved and hated

and as talked about
as any man in our time.

But when he comes to die, he's got
something on his mind called Rosebud.

- Now, what does that mean?
- A racehorse he bet on once.

- Yeah, that didn't come in.
- All right.

- But what was the race?
- Rosebud.

- Thompson.
- Yes, Mr. Rawlston?

Hold this picture up a week.
Two weeks if you have to.

- Don't you think right after his death--
- Find out about Rosebud.

Get in touch with everybody
that ever knew him.

Uh, who knew him well.

That manager of his, uh... Bernstein.

- His second wife. She's still living.
- Susan Alexander Kane.

She's running a nightclub
in Atlantic City.

See 'em all.

Get in touch with everybody that ever
worked for him, whoever loved him,

whoever hated his guts.

I don't mean go through
the city directory, of course.

I'll get on it right away, Mr. Rawlston.

Good. Rosebud, dead or alive.

It'll probably turn out
to be a very simple thing.

Miss Alexander.

This is Mr. Thompson, Miss Alexander.

I want another drink, John.

Right away.

- Will you have something, Mr. Thompson?
- I'll have a highball, please.

Who told you you could sit down?

I thought maybe we could have
a talk together.

Well, think again.

Can't you people leave me alone?

I'm minding my own business,
you mind yours.

If I could just have a little talk
with you, Miss Alexander, I'd--

Get out of here.

Get out!

- Sorry.
- Get out.

- Maybe some other time.
- Get out.

Gino.

Get her another highball.

She just won't talk to nobody,
Mr. Thompson.

Okay.

Another double?

Yeah.

Hello, I want New York City.

Courtland 79970,
this is Atlantic City 46827.

All right.

Hey.

- She's, uh...
- Yeah. She'll snap out of it.

Why, until he died, she'd just as soon
talk about Mr. Kane as about any--

- Hello, this is Thompson.
- Sooner.

Let me talk to the chief, will you?

Hello, Mr. Rawlston. She won't talk.

The second Mrs. Kane.
About Rosebud or anything else.

I'm calling from Atlantic City.

Then tomorrow,
I'm going over to Philadelphia

to the Thatcher Library
to see that private diary of his.

Yeah, they're expecting me.

Then I've got an appointment in New York
with Kane's general manager.

What's his name? Uh, Bernstein.

Then I'm coming back here.

Yeah, I'll see everybody
that's still alive.

Goodbye, Mr. Rawlston.

- Hey, um...
- John.

John, you just might be able to help me.

When she used to talk about Mr. Kane,

did she ever say anything about Rosebud?

Rosebud?

Well, thank you, Mr. Thompson. Thanks. Uh...

As a matter of fact, uh,

just the other day, when the papers
were full of it, I asked her.

She never heard of Rosebud.

The directors
of the Thatcher Memorial Library

have asked me to remind you again,
Mr. Thompson,

about the conditions
under which you may inspect

certain portions of Mr. Thatcher's
unpublished memoirs.

- I remember them.
- Yes, Jennings.

- I'll bring him right in.
- All I want to know--

Under no circumstances
are direct quotations

from his manuscript to be used by you.

- You may come with me.
- I'm just looking for one...

Jennings.

- Thank you, Jennings.
- Yes, Miss Anderson.

Mr. Thompson, you will be required
to leave this room at 4:30 promptly.

You will confine yourself,
it is our understanding,

to the chapters in Mr. Thatcher's
manuscript regarding Mr. Kane.

That's all I'm interested in.

Thank you.

Pages 83 to 142.

Come on, boys. The Union forever!

- Be careful, Charles.
- Mrs. Kane.

Pull your muffler
around your neck, Charles.

Mrs. Kane, I think
we shall have to tell him now.

Yes.

I'll sign those papers now, Mr. Thatcher.

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

It's going to be done exactly
the way I've told Mr. Thatcher.

There ain't nothing wrong with Colorado.

I don't see why we can't raise our own son
just because we come into some money.

If I want, I can go to court.
A father has a right to.

A boarder that beats his bill
and leaves worthless stock behind.

That property is just as much my property
as anybody's, now that it's valuable,

and if Fred Graves had any idea
all this was going to happen,

he'd have made out those certificates
in both our names.

However, they were made out
in Mrs. Kane's name.

He owed the money for the board
to the both of us.

"The bank's decision in all matters--"

I don't hold with signing my boy away
to any bank as guardian —

I want you to stop all this nonsense, Jim.

"The bank's decision on all matters

"concerning his education,
his places of residence,

"and similar subjects, is to be final."

The idea of a bank being the guardian--

I want you to stop all this nonsense, Jim.

"We will assume full management
of the Colorado Lode."

Of which, I repeat, Mrs. Kane,
you are the sole owner.

- Where do I sign, Mr. Thatcher?
- Right here, Mrs. Kane.

Mary, I'm asking you for the last time.

Anybody'd think I hadn't been
a good husband or father--

The sum of $50,000 a year
is to be paid to you and Mr. Kane

as long as you both live,

and thereafter to the survivor.

- Well, let's hope it's all for the best.
- It is.

The Union forever!

Ya can't lick Andy Jackson!

Why I can't raise my own boy
is more than I can understand.

Go on, Mr. Thatcher.

Everything else, the principal
as well as all monies earned,

is to be administered by the bank in trust
for your son, Charles Foster Kane,

until he reaches his 25th birthday,

at which time he is to come
into complete possession.

Charles!

Go on, Mr. Thatcher.

Well, uh, it's almost 5:00, Mrs. Kane.

Don't you think I'd better meet the boy?

I've got his trunk all packed.

I've had it packed for a week now.

I've arranged for a tutor
to meet us in Chicago.

I'd have brought him here with me, but...

- Charles.
- Looky, Mom.

- You better come inside, son.
- Well, well, well.

That's quite a snowman.
Did you make it all by yourself, my lad?

Maybe I'll make some teeth and whiskers.

This is Mr. Thatcher, Charles.

- Hello.
- How do you do, Charles?

- Uh, he comes from the East.
- Pa.

- Hello, Charlie.
- Charles!

Yes, Mommy?

Mr. Thatcher is going to take you
on a trip with him tonight.

You'll be leaving on number ten.

That's the train
with all the lights on it.

- You going, Mom?
- Well, no.

Your mother won't be going
right away, Charles, but she'll...

- Where am I going?
- You're going to see Chicago.

And New York, and Washington, maybe.

- Ain't he, Mr. Thatcher?
- He certainly is.

I wish I were a little boy going
on a trip like that for the first time.

- Why aren't you coming with us, Mom?
- We have to stay here, Charles.

You're gonna live with Mr. Thatcher
from now on, Charlie.

You're going to be rich, your mom figures.

Well, that is, me and her decided

this ain't the place
for you to grow up in.

You'll probably be the richest man
in America someday--

- You won't be lonely, Charles.
- Lonely? Of course not.

Why, we're going to have
some fine times together.

Really, we are, Charles.
Now, shall we shake hands?

Oh, come, come, come.
I'm not as frightening as all that, am I?

Now what do you say? Let's shake.

- Why, Charles!
- Charles, you almost hurt me.

Why, sleds aren't to hit people with.
Sleds are to sleigh with.

- Mom!
- You've got to go.

- You little--
- Jim!

I'm sorry, Mr. Thatcher.
What that kid needs is a good thrashing.

- That's what you think, is it, Jim?
- Yes.

That's why he's going to be brought up
where you can't get at him.

Well, Charles.

- Merry Christmas.
- Merry Christmas.

And a happy New Year.

In closing, may I again remind you

that your 25th birthday,
which is now approaching,

marks your complete independence
from the firm of Thatcher and Company,

as well as the assumption by you
of full responsibility

for the world's sixth-largest private fortune.
Have you got that?

"The world's
sixth-largest private fortune."

Yes. Charles.

I don't think you quite realize
the full importance

of the position
you are to occupy in the world.

I am therefore enclosing
for your consideration

a complete list of your holdings
extensively cross-indexed...

"Dear Mr. Thatcher."

- It's from Mr. Kane.
- Go on.

"Sorry, but I'm not interested
in gold mines,

oil wells, shipping
or real estate--"

Not interested? Not in--

"One item on your list intrigues me —
the New York Inquirer.

"A little newspaper I understand
we acquired in a foreclosure proceeding.

"Please don't sell it. I am coming
back to America to take charge.

"I think it would be fun
to run a newspaper."

"I think it would be fun
to run a newspaper."

"Traction Trust exposed."

"Traction Trust bleeds public white."

"Traction Trust smashed by Inquirer."

"Landlords refuse to clear slums."

"Inquirer wins slum fight."

Tsk.

Hey! Wall Street
backs copper swindle!

"Copper robbers indicted."

"Galleons of Spain off Jersey Coast."

Is that really your idea
of how to run a newspaper?

I don't know how to run a newspaper,
Mr. Thatcher.

I just try everything I can think of.

Charles, you know perfectly well,
there's not the slightest proof

that this armada is off the Jersey Coast.

- Hello, Mr. Bernstein.
- Excuse me, Mr. Kane.

- Can you prove it isn't?
- This just came in.

Mr. Bernstein, I'd like you
to meet Mr. Thatcher.

- I'll just borrow a cigar.
- How do you do, Mr. Thatcher?

Leland, uh, Mr. Thatcher, my ex-guardian.

We have no secrets
from our readers, Mr. Bernstein.

Mr. Thatcher is one
of our most devoted readers.

He knows what's wrong with every copy
of the Inquirer since I took over.

Read the cable.

"Girls delightful in Cuba, stop.

"Could send you prose poems about scenery,

"but don't feel right
spending your money, stop.

"There is no war in Cuba.
Signed, Wheeler."

- Any answer?
- Yes: "Dear Wheeler.

"You provide the prose poems,
I'll provide the war."

- That's fine, Mr. Kane.
- Yes, I rather like it myself.

Charles, I came to see you
about this campaign of yours.

This Inquirer campaign against
the Public Transit Company.

Mr. Thatcher, do you know anything
we could use against them?

Still the college boy, aren't you?

Oh, no, Mr. Thatcher,
I was expelled from college.

A lot of colleges. You remember.
I remember.

Charles, I think I should remind you
of a fact that you seem to have forgotten.

That you are yourself
one of the largest individual stockholders

in the Public Transit Company!

The trouble is you don't realize
you're talking to two people.

As Charles Foster Kane,
who owns 82,364 shares

of Public Transit, preferred —

you see, I do have
a general idea of my holdings —

I sympathize with you.

Charles Foster Kane is a scoundrel.
His paper should be run out of town.

A committee should be formed
to boycott him.

You may, if you can form such a committee,
put me down for a contribution of $1,000.

On the other hand,
I am the publisher of the Inquirer!

As such it's my duty — and I'll let you in
on a little secret — it's also my pleasure

to see to it that decent,
hardworking people in this community

aren't robbed blind
by a pack of money-mad pirates

just because they haven't anybody
to look after their interests.

I'll let you in on another
little secret, Mr. Thatcher.

I think I'm the man to do it.
You see, I have money and property.

If I don't look after the interests
of the underprivileged,

maybe somebody else will.

Maybe somebody
without any money or property.

- Yes, yes, money and property.
- And that would be too bad.

I happened to see your financial
statement today, Charles.

- Oh, did you?
- Now tell me, honestly, my boy.

Don't you think it's rather unwise
to continue this philanthropic enterprise,

this Inquirer that's costing you
a million dollars a year?

You're right, Mr. Thatcher.
I did lose a million dollars last year.

I expect to lose
a million dollars this year.

I expect to lose
a million dollars next year.

You know, Mr. Thatcher, at the rate
of a million dollars a year,

I'll have to close this place
in... 60 years.

"With respect to the said newspapers,
the said Charles Foster Kane

hereby relinquishes all control thereof

and of the syndicates pertaining thereto

and any and all other newspaper, press

and publishing properties
of any kind whatsoever,

and agrees to abandon all claim thereto--"

Which means we're bust.
All right.

- Well, out of cash.
- All right, Mr. Bernstein.

I've read it, Mr. Thatcher.

Let me sign it and I'll go home.

You're too old to call me
"Mr. Thatcher," Charles.

You're too old to be called anything else.

You were always too old.

"In consideration thereof,

Thatcher and Company agrees
to pay to Charles Foster Kane

- as long as he lives--"
- My allowance.

You will continue to maintain
over your newspapers

a large measure of control.

Measure of control?

And we shall seek your advice.

This depression, temporary.

There's always the chance
that you'll die richer than I will.

It's a cinch I'll die richer
than I was born.

We never lost as much as we made.

Yes, yes, but your methods.

You know, Charles,
you never made a single investment.

Always used money to...

To buy things, hmm?

To buy things.

My mother should have chosen
a less reliable banker.

Well...

I always gagged on that silver spoon.

You know, Mr. Bernstein...

if I hadn't been very rich...

I might have been a really great man.

Don't you think you are?

I think I did pretty well
under the circumstances.

What would you like to have been?

Everything you hate.

- Oh.
- I beg your pardon, sir?

- What?
- What did you say?

It's 4:30.

- Isn't it, Jennings?
- Yes'm, ma'am.

You have enjoyed a very rare privilege,
young man.

- Did you find what you were looking for?
- No.

- You're not Rosebud, are you?
- What?

Rosebud. And your name
is Jennings, isn't it?

- Yes, sir--
- Goodbye, everybody!

Thanks for the use of the hall.

Who's a busy man? Me?

I'm chairman of the board.
I got nothing but time.

What do you want to know?

Well, Mr. Bernstein, we thought maybe

if we could find out what he meant
by his last words as he was dying.

That Rosebud, huh?

Maybe some girl?

There were a lot of them
back in the early days.

It's hardly likely, Mr. Bernstein,

that Mr. Kane could have met
some girl casually

and then 50 years later on his deathbed--

Well, you're pretty young,
Mister... Mr. Thompson.

A fellow will remember a lot of things
you wouldn't think he'd remember.

You take me.

One day back in 1896,
I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry

and as we pulled out,
there was another ferry pulling in,

and on it, there was a girl
waiting to get off.

A white dress she had on,
and she was carrying a white parasol.

And I only saw her for one second.
She didn't see me at all.

But I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since
that I haven't thought of that girl.

Who else have you been to see?

Well, I went down to Atlantic City.

Susie?

Thank you.

I called her myself the day after he died.

I thought maybe somebody ought to.

Couldn't even come to the phone.

I'm going down to see her again
in a couple of days.

About Rosebud, Mr. Bernstein.

If you'd just talk about
anything connected with Mr. Kane

that you can remember.

After all, you were with him
from the beginning.

From before the beginning, young fellow.

And now, it's after the end.

Have you tried to see
anybody except Susie?

I haven't seen anybody else.

I've been through that stuff
of Walter Thatcher's, that journal of his.

Thatcher. That man was
the biggest darn fool I ever met.

He made an awful lot of money.

Well, it's no trick to make a lot of money
if all you want...

is to make a lot of money.

You take Mr. Kane.

It wasn't money he wanted.

Thatcher never did figure him out.

Sometimes even I couldn't.

You know who you ought to see?

Mr. Leland.
He was Mr. Kane's closest friend.

- They went to school together.
- Harvard, wasn't it?

Harvard, Yale, Princeton,
Cornell, Switzerland.

He was thrown out of a lot of colleges.

Mr. Leland never had a nickel.

One of those old families
where the father is worth ten million,

and then one day he shoots himself

and it turns out
there's nothing but debts.

He was with Mr. Kane and me

the first day Mr. Kane
took over the Inquirer.

Take a good look at it, Jedediah.

It's gonna look a lot different
one of these days.

Come on.

There ain't no bedrooms in this joint.
That's a newspaper building.

You're getting paid, mister,
for opinions or for hauling?

- Jedediah.
- After you, Mr. Kane.

Excuse me, sir, but I--

Welcome, Mr. Kane.

Welcome.

Uh, welcome to the Inquirer, Mr. Kane.

I am Herbert Carter, the editor-in-chief.

Thank you, Mr. Carter,
but, uh, this is Mr. Leland.

- How do you do, Mr. Leland?
- The new dramatic critic.

I hope I haven't made a mistake, Jedediah.
It is a dramatic critic you want to be?

- You know that's right.
- Are they standing for me?

- You? Oh, Mr. Kane.
- Yes.

- Standing?
- How do you do?

How do you do? I thought
it would be a nice little gesture...

- Ask them to sit down, will you, please?
- ...the new, uh, new publisher.

Uh, you may resume your duties, gentlemen.

- I didn't know your plans, so I--
- I don't know my plans myself.

- I was unable to make any preparations.
- Matter of fact, I haven't got any plans.

- No?
- Except to get out a newspaper.

- Oops.
- Mr. Bernstein?

Yes, Mr. Kane.

Mr. Carter, this is Mr. Bernstein.

Mr. Bernstein
is my general manager, Mr. Carter.

- How do you do, Mr. Carter?
- Mr. Carter.

- Yes?
- Mr. Carter.

- How do you do?
- Mr. Carter.

- Yes, how do you do?
- Mr. Carter!

- Yes, Mr. "Bernstine".
- Mr. Carter.

- "Stein".
- Kane!

Mr. Carter,
is this your office, Mr. Carter?

My, uh, my-my little, uh,

private sanctum
is at your disposal, but I--

- Excuse me.
- Glad to hear that.

I-I don't understand.

Mr. Carter, I'm going to live right here
in your office as long as I have to and--

- Mr. Carter.
- Uh, live here?

- That's right.
- Mr. Carter, excuse me.

B-But the morning newspaper, Mr. Kane.

- After all--
- Excuse me.

- W-We're practically closed for 12 hou--
- Excuse me.

- Twelve hou-- a day.
- Excuse me.

That's one of the things that's going to
have to be changed around here.

The news goes on for 24 hours a day.

- Twenty--
- Excuse me.

- That's right, Mr. Carter.
- Excuse me.

- Mr. Kane--
- Excuse me.

Mr. Kane, it's impossible. We...

- ...draw that cartoon.
- Here's what I mean.

I'm no good as a cartoonist.

- Look at that.
- You certainly aren't.

You're the dramatic critic, Leland.
That's enough.

- You still eating?
- I'm still hungry.

Now, look, Mr. Carter,
here's a front page story in the Chronicle

about a Mrs. Harry Silverstone
in Brooklyn who is missing.

Now, she's probably murdered.
Here's a picture of her in the Chronicle.

Why isn't there something
about it in the Inquirer?

Because we're running a newspaper,
not a scandal sheet!

Joseph, I'm absolutely starving to death!

- Excuse me, Mr. "Bernstine".
- That's all right.

Look, Mr. Carter,

here is a three-column headline
in the Chronicle.

Why hasn't the Inquirer
a three-column headline?

- The news wasn't big enough.
- Mm-hmm.

Mr. Carter, if the headline is big enough,
it makes the news big enough.

That's right, Mr. Kane.

Now, the murder
of this Mrs. Harry Silverstone--

There's no proof that that woman
was murdered, or even that she's dead.

She's missing and the neighbors
are getting suspicious.

It's not our function to report
the gossip of housewives.

If we were interested
in that kind of thing, Mr. Kane,

we could fill the paper twice over daily.

Mr. Carter, that's the kind of thing we
are going to be interested in from now on.

I want you to send your best man
to see Mr. Silverstone in Brooklyn.

Have him tell Mr. Silverstone

if he doesn't produce his wife,
Mrs. Silverstone, at once,

the Inquirer will have him arrested.

And tell Mr. Silverstone
he's a detective from, uh...

- Central Office.
- The Central Office.

If Mr. Silverstone gets suspicious
and asks to see your man's badge,

your man is to get indignant
and call Mr. Silverstone an anarchist.

Loudly, so the neighbors can hear.
You ready for dinner, Jedediah?

I-I can't see that the function
of a respectable newspaper--

You've been most understanding.
Thank you so much, Mr. Carter.

And, uh, goodbye.

Goodbye.

Paper! Read all about it!

Paper! Paper, mister?
Wanna read about it? Here it is.

Just read it in the Chronicle.
The early morning Chronicle.

She might be murdered,
the lady that disappeared in Brooklyn.

Read all about it.
Get your early morning Chronicle.

Read all about it in the Chronicle.

It'll be on the street soon, Charlie.
Another ten minutes.

Three hours and 50 minutes late,
but we did it.

- Tired?
- Tough day.

- A wasted day.
- Wasted?

You only made the paper over
four times tonight, that's all.

I've changed the front page a little,
Mr. Bernstein. That's not enough.

No, there's something
I've got to get into this paper

besides pictures and print.

I've got to make the New York Inquirer

as important to New York
as the gas in that light.

What are you gonna do, Charlie?

Declaration of Principles.

Don't smile, Jedediah.

Got it all written out.
"Declaration of Principles".

You don't wanna make any promises,
Mr. Kane, you don't wanna keep.

These will be kept.

"I'll provide the people of this city

"with a daily paper that will
tell all the news honestly.

"I will also provide--"

That's the second sentence
you've started with "I".

People are gonna know who's responsible.

And they're gonna get the truth
in the Inquirer,

quickly and simply and entertainingly,

and no special interests are going to be
allowed to interfere with that truth.

"I'll also provide them with a
fighting and tireless champion of their rights

"as citizens and as human beings."

Signed, Charles Foster... Kane.

- Can I have that, Charlie?
- I'm gonna print it.

- Solly!
- Solly!

- Yes, Mr. Kane?
- Here's an editorial, Solly.

I want you to run it in a box
on the front page.

- This morning's front page, Mr. Kane?
- That's right, Solly.

That means we're gonna have
to remake again, doesn't it, Solly?

You better go down and tell 'em.

- All right.
- Solly.

When you're through with that,
I'd like to have it back.

I'd like to keep that particular
piece of paper myself.

I have a hunch it might turn out to be
something pretty important.

- A document.
- Sure.

Like the Declaration of Independence
and the Constitution.

And my first report card at school.

I know you're tired, gentlemen,
but I brought you here for a reason.

I think this little pilgrimage
will do us good.

Chronicle is a good newspaper.

The Chronicle is a good idea
for a newspaper.

- Notice the circulation.
- 495,000.

But, Mr. Kane, look who's
working for the Chronicle.

With them fellows,
it's no trick to get circulation.

You're right, Mr. Bernstein.

You know how long it took
the Chronicle to get that staff together?

- Twenty years.
- Twenty years?

Well, six years ago, I looked at a picture
of the world's greatest newspapermen.

I felt like a kid
in front of a candy store.

Well, tonight, six years later,
I got my candy, all of it.

Welcome, gentlemen, to the Inquirer.

Make up an extra copy of that picture

and send it to the Chronicle,
will you, please?

It'll make you all happy to learn
that our circulation this morning

was the greatest in New York — 684,000.

Six hundred and eighty-four thousand,
one hundred and thirty-two.

Right!

Having thus welcomed you,

I hope you'll forgive my rudeness
in taking leave of you.

I'm going abroad next week for a vacation.

I've promised my doctor for some time now
that I'd leave when I could

and I now realize that I can.

Say, Mr. Kane,
as long as you're promising,

there's a lot of pictures and statues
in Europe you haven't bought yet.

You can't blame me, Mr. Bernstein.

They've been making statues
for 2,000 years

and I've only been buying for five.

- Promise me, Mr. Kane.
- I promise you, Mr. Bernstein.

Thank you.

- Mr. Bernstein.
- Yes?

You don't expect me to keep
any of those promises, do you?

No.

And now, gentlemen!

Your complete attention, if you please!

Are we going to declare war on Spain
or are we not?

- Oh, mama, here they come.
- Shoot me while I'm happy.

I said.

Are we going to declare war
on Spain or are we not?

The Inquirer already has.

You long-faced, overdressed anarchist.

- I am not overdressed.
- You are too.

Mr. Bernstein, look at his necktie.

- Let's have the song about Charlie!
- Mr. Kane!

- ls there a song about Charlie?
- ls there a song about you, Mr. Kane?

You buy a bag of peanuts in this town,
you get a song written about you.

- I've seen that fellow. He's good.
- Yeah.

Good evening, Mr. Kane.

- ♪ There is a man ♪
- ♪ There is a man ♪

- ♪ A certain man ♪
- ♪ A certain man ♪

♪ And for the poor you may be sure ♪

♪ That he'll do all he can ♪

- ♪ Who is this one? ♪
- ♪ Who is this one? ♪

- ♪ This favorite son ♪
- ♪ This favorite son ♪

♪ Just by his action
Has the Traction magnates on the run ♪

- ♪ Who loves to smoke ♪
- ♪ Who loves to smoke ♪

- ♪ Enjoys a joke ♪
- ♪ Ha ha ha ha ♪

♪ And wouldn't get a bit upset
If he were really broke? ♪

- ♪ With wealth and flame ♪
- ♪ Wealth and flame ♪

- ♪ He is still the same ♪
- ♪ Still the same ♪

♪ I'll bet you five you're not alive ♪

♪ If you don't know his name ♪

- ♪ What is his name? ♪
- ♪ What is his name? ♪

- ♪ Iris Charlie Kane ♪
- ♪ Iris Mister Kane ♪

♪ He doesn't like that "Mister" ♪

♪ He likes good old Charlie Kane ♪

Isn't it wonderful? Such a party.

- Yes.
- What's the matter?

- ♪ Who says a miss ♪
- ♪ Who says a miss ♪

- ♪ Was made to kiss? ♪
- ♪ Was made to kiss? ♪

♪ And when he meets one
Always tries to do exactly this ♪

- ♪ Who buys the food? ♪
- ♪Who buys the food? ♪

- ♪ Who buys the drinks? ♪
- ♪ Who buys the drinks? ♪

♪ Who thinks that dough
Was made to spend ♪

♪ And acts the way he thinks? ♪

- ♪ That was a joke ♪
- ♪ No, no, no ♪

♪ No, no, no ♪

Bernstein, these men
who are now with the Inquirer

who were with the Chronicle
until yesterday--

Catch!

- Oh, mama, please.
- Give me that.

- What? The blond?
- No, the brunette.

- Where'd you learn that, Charlie?
- Bernstein.

I'll bet you
you didn't learn it at the office!

Bernstein, these men
who were with the Chronicle,

weren't they just as devoted
to the Chronicle policies

as they are now to our policies?

Sure. They're just like anybody else.

They got work to do, they do it.

Only they happen to be
the best men in the business.

Do we stand for the same things
the Chronicle stands for, Bernstein?

Certainly not.

Listen, Mr. Kane, he'll have them changed
to his kind of newspapermen in a week.

There's always a chance, of course,
that they'll change Mr. Kane

without his knowing it.

Leland! Mr. Leland!

I got a cable from Mr. Kane!

Mr. Le... Mr. Leland!

Mr. Leland, I got a cable here
from Mr. Kane.

- What?
- From Paris, France.

- What?
- Look! Paris! France!

Come on in.

♪ Who by his action ♪

- ♪ Has the Traction magnates ♪
- Say, Mr. Leland, I...

♪ On the run ♪

Good thing he promised
not to send back any more... statues.

Bernstein, Bernstein.

Look. He wants to buy
the world's biggest diamond.

Mr. Leland, why didn't you go
to Europe with him?

- He wanted you to.
- Oh, I wanted Charlie to have fun.

With me along...

Bernstein, am I a stuffed shirt?

Am I a horse-faced hypocrite?

Am I a New England schoolmarm?

Yes.

If you thought I'd answer you
any different

from what Mr. Kane tells you,
well, I wouldn't.

All right, all right.
"World's biggest diamond".

I didn't know
Charlie was collecting diamonds.

He ain't.

He's collecting somebody
that's collecting diamonds.

Anyway, he ain't only collecting statues.

"Welcome home, Mr. Kane,

"from 467 employees
of the New York Inquirer".

Here he comes!

- I know I've got a mustache.
- Looks awful!

Well, I know, but have you got a society--

- Have we a society editor?
- Right here, Mr. Kane.

Miss Townsend is the society editor.

Miss Townsend,
this is Mr. Charles Foster Kane.

Uh, uh, Miss Townsend,

I have been away so long,

I don't know your routine. I...

I've got a little, uh,
social announcement.

I wish you wouldn't treat it
any differently

than you would any other...
social announcement.

Uh, Mr. Kane.

Mr. Kane, on behalf of
all the employees of the Inquirer--

Mr. Bernstein, thank you
very much, everybody, I...

I'm sorry, I...

I can't accept it now.

Goodbye.

Say, he was in an awful hurry.

Hey! Hey, everybody, looky out here.

- Let's go to the window.
- "Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Monroe Norton--"

Mr. Leland! Mr. Bernstein!

- Yes, Miss Townsend?
- This-This announcement.

"Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Monroe Norton

"announce the engagement of their
daughter Emily Monroe Norton

"to Mr. Charles Foster Kane."

- Huh?
- Come on.

Emily Monroe Norton.

She's the niece of the president
of the United States.

President's niece, huh?

Before he's through,
she'll be a president's wife.

The way things turned out,
I don't need to tell you,

Miss Emily Norton was no Rosebud.

It didn't end very well, did it?

It ended.

Then there was Susie.

That ended too.

You know, Mr. Thompson, I was thinking,

this Rosebud you're trying
to find out about...

Yes?

Maybe that was something he lost.

Mr. Kane was a man who lost
almost everything he had.

You ought to see Jed Leland.

Of course, he and Mr. Kane
didn't exactly see eye to eye.

You take the Spanish-American war.

I guess Mr. Leland was right.
That was Mr. Kane's war.

We didn't really have
anything to fight about.

But do you think if it hadn't been
for that war of Mr. Kane's,

we'd have the Panama Canal?

I wish I knew where Mr. Leland was.

A lot of the time now
they don't tell me these things.

Maybe even he's dead.

In case you'd like to know, Mr. Bernstein,

he's at the Huntington Memorial Hospital
on 180th Street.

Why, you don't say. I had no idea--

Nothing particular the matter
with him, they tell me. Just...

Just... old age.

It's the only disease, Mr. Thompson,

that you don't look forward
to being cured of.

I can remember absolutely
everything, young man.

That's my curse.

That's one of the greatest curses
ever inflicted on the human race — memory.

I was his oldest friend,

and as far as I was concerned
he behaved like a swine.

Not that Charlie was ever brutal.

He just did brutal things.

Maybe I wasn't his friend,
but if I wasn't, he never had one.

Maybe I was, uh, what you
nowadays would call a stooge.

Mr. Leland, you were going to say
something about Rosebu--

You don't happen
to have a good cigar, do you?

I've got a young physician here
who thinks I'm gonna give up smoking.

- No, I'm afraid I haven't. Sorry.
- Oh, oh.

I changed the subject, didn't I?

What a disagreeable old man I have become.

You're a reporter.

You want to know what I think
about Charlie Kane.

Well...

I suppose he had some
private sort of greatness,

but he kept it to himself.

He never gave himself away.
He never gave anything away.

He just, uh... left you a tip.

Hmm?
He had a generous mind.

I don't suppose anybody
ever had so many opinions.

But he never believed in anything
except Charlie Kane.

He never had a conviction
except Charlie Kane in his life.

I suppose he died without one.

That must have been pretty unpleasant.

Of course, a lot of us check out

without having any special
convictions about death.

But we do know what we're leaving.
We do believe in something.

Are you absolutely sure
you haven't got a cigar?

- Sorry, Mr. Leland.
- Oh, never mind.

Mr. Leland, what do you know
about Rosebud?

Rosebud?

Oh. Oh. His, uh, dying words.
"Rosebud".

Yeah, I saw that in the Inquirer.

Well, I never believed anything
I saw in the Inquirer.

Anything else? I can tell you about Emily.

I went to dancing school with Emily.

I was very graceful.

Uh, we were talking about
the first Mrs. Kane.

What was she like?

She was like all the girls
I knew in dancing school.

Very nice girl. Very nice--
Family was a little nicer.

Well, after the first couple of months,

she and Charlie
didn't see much of each other

except at breakfast.

It was a marriage
just like any other marriage.

- You're beautiful.
- Oh, I can't be.

Yes, you are. You're very, very beautiful.

I've never been to six parties
in one night my whole life.

Extremely beautiful.

- I've never been up this late.
- It's just a matter of habit.

I wonder what the servants will think.

They'll think we enjoyed ourselves.
Didn't we?

I don't see why you have to go
straight off to the newspaper.

You never should have
married a newspaperman.

They're worse than sailors.

I absolutely adore you.

Oh, Charles, even newspapermen
have to sleep.

I'll call Mr. Bernstein, have him
put off my appointments until noon.

- What time is it?
- Oh, I don't know. It's late.

It's early.

Charles.

Do you know how long
you kept me waiting last night

while you went to the newspaper
for ten minutes?

What do you do on a newspaper
in the middle of the night?

Emily, my dear...

your only correspondent is the Inquirer.

Sometimes I think I'd prefer
a rival of flesh and blood.

Oh, Emily, I don't spend
that much time on the newspaper.

It isn't just the time.
It's what you print.

- Attacking the president.
- You mean Uncle John.

I mean, the president
of the United States.

He's still Uncle John
and he's still a well-meaning fathead

who's letting a pack of high-pressure
crooks run his administration.

This whole oil scandal--

He happens to be the president,
Charles, not you.

That's a mistake that will be corrected
one of these days.

Your Mr. Bernstein sent Junior

the most incredible atrocity
yesterday, Charles.

I simply can't have it in the nursery.

Mr. Bernstein is apt to pay a visit
to the nursery now and then.

Does he have to?

Yes.

Really, Charles, people will think...

What I tell them to think.

Wasn't he ever
in love with her?

He married for love.

Love.

That is why he did everything.
That's why he went into politics.

It seems we weren't enough.
He wanted all the voters to love him too.

That's all he really wanted
out of life was love.

That's Charlie's story. How he lost it.

You see, he just didn't have any to give.

Oh, he loved Charlie Kane, of course.

Very dearly.

And his mother,
I guess he always loved her.

- How about his second wife?
- Susan Alexander?

You know what Charlie called her?

The day after he'd met her,
he told me about her.

He said, uh...

"She was a cross-section
of the American public."

I guess he couldn't help it.
She must have had something for him.

Well, that first night,
according to Charlie,

all she had was a toothache.

What are you laughing at, young lady?

Ooh.

- What is the matter with you, young lady?
- I have a toothache.

- What?
- I have a toothache.

Toothache?

Oh. Oh.

You mean, you've got a toothache.

- What's funny about that?
- You're funny, mister.

- You got dirt on your face.
- It's not dirt, it's mud.

Do you want some hot water?
I live right here.

What's that, young lady?

I said if you wanted some hot water,
I could get you some...

hot water.

All right, thank you very much.

Ow!

- Ah!
- Do I look any better now?

This medicine
doesn't do a bit of good.

What you need
is to get your mind off it.

Hey.

Excuse me, but my landlady prefers me

to keep this door open
when I have a gentleman caller.

All right.

- You have got a toothache, haven't you?
- I surely have.

Hey, why don't you try
laughing at me again?

- What?
- I'm still pretty funny.

I know, but you don't want me
to laugh at you.

- I don't want your tooth to hurt either.
- Ooh.

Look at me.

- See that?
- What are you doing?

I'm wiggling both my ears
at the same time. See?

That's it. Smile.

It took me two solid years

in the best boys' school in the world
to learn that trick.

Fellow who taught it to me
is now the president of Venezuela.

That's it!

- Oh, is it a giraffe?
- No, it's not a giraffe.

- Oh, I bet it is.
- What?

Well, then it's an elephant.

It's supposed to be a rooster.

Not a rooster!

- Gee, you know an awful lot of tricks.
- Mm-hmm.

You're not a professional magician,
are you?

No, I'm not a magician.

Oh, I was just joking.

You really don't know who I am?

Well, you told me your name, Mr. Kane,
but I'm awful ignorant.

But I guess you caught on to that.

You know, I bet it turns out
I've heard your name a million times.

You really like me though,
even though you don't know who I am?

Oh, I surely do.

- You've been wonderful.
- Oh, that's nice of you.

Well, gee, without you,
I don't know what I'd have done.

I had a toothache,
and I don't know many people.

I know too many people.

I guess we're both lonely.

Hey, you wanna know
what I was gonna do tonight

before I ruined my best Sunday clothes?

Oh, I bet they're not
your best Sunday clothes.

- You probably got a lot of clothes.
- I was just joking.

I was on my way to
the Western Manhattan Warehouse

in search of my youth.

You see, my mother died a long time ago

and her things were put
in storage out west.

There wasn't any other place to put 'em.

I thought I'd send for them now.
Tonight I was gonna take a look at them.

You know, a sort of sentimental journey.

I run a couple of newspapers.
What do you do?

- Me?
- Mm-hmm.

- How old did you say you were?
- Oh, I didn't say.

I didn't think you did. If you had,
I wouldn't have asked you

'cause I would have remembered.
How old?

- Pretty old.
- How old?

- Twenty-two in August.
- That's a ripe old age. What do you do?

Well, I work at Seigelman's.
I'm in charge of the sheet music there.

In charge of the--
Is that what you wanna do?

No, I wanted to be a singer, I guess.

- That is, I didn't. My mother did for me.
- What happened to the singing?

Well, Mother always thought...

She always talked about
grand opera for me. Imagine.

But my voice isn't that kind. It's just...

well, you know what mothers are like.

Yes, I know.

Have you got a piano?

- A piano?
- Mm-hmm.

Yes, there's one in the parlor.

Would you sing for me?

Oh, you wouldn't want to hear me sing.

Yes, I would.

Well, I...

Don't tell me your toothache
is still bothering you.

Oh, no, that's all gone.

All right.

Let's go to the parlor.

♪ Yes, Lindor shall be mine ♪

♪ I have sworn it ♪

♪ For weal or woe ♪

♪ Yes, Lindor ♪

There is only one man
who can rid the politics of this state

of the evil domination of Boss Jim Gettys.

Hooray!

- I am speaking of Charles Foster Kane...
- Shh. Shh.

...the fighting liberal,
the friend of the working man,

the next governor of this state,
who entered upon this campaign...

...with one purpose only —

to point out and make public

the dishonesty, the downright villainy

of Boss Jim W. Gettys' political machine

now in complete control
of the government of this state.

I made no campaign promises

because until a few weeks ago
I had no hope of being elected.

Now, however, I have
something more than a hope.

And Jim Gettys-- Jim Gettys
has something less than a chance.

Every straw vote,

every independent poll

shows that I'll be elected.

Very well, then.

Now I can afford to make some promises.

The working man--

The working man... and the slum child

know they can expect
my best efforts in their interests.

The decent, ordinary citizens know

that I'll do everything in my power
to protect the underprivileged,

the underpaid, and the underfed.

Mother, is Pop governor yet?

Not yet, Junior.

Well, I'd make my promises now...

if I weren't too busy
arranging to keep them.

But here's one promise I'll make,

and Boss Jim Gettys knows I'll keep it.

My first official act
as governor of this state

will be to appoint
a special district attorney

to arrange for the indictment,

prosecution and conviction

of Boss Jim W. Gettys.

Hello, Bill. Oh, thank you.

Great speech, Mr. Kane!

If the election were held today,
you'd be in by 100,000 votes.

- Jim Gettys isn't even pretending.
- Hello, Pop!

- Hello, son. How are you?
- He's not just scared, he's sick.

I think it's beginning to dawn
on Jim Gettys I mean what I say.

Did you like your old man's speech?

I was in a box, Daddy.
I could hear every word.

- I saw you. Hello, Emily.
- Hold it.

- Great speech, Mr. Kane.
- Wonderful. Wonderful.

- Will you get us a taxi, please?
- Yes, Mrs. Kane.

A taxi? Why? I thought we--

I'm sending Junior home
in the car, Charles, with Oliver.

Good night, Father.

Goodbye, son.

Emily.

Why did you send Junior home
in the car, Emily?

What are you doing in a taxi?

There's a call I want you
to make with me, Charles.

- It can wait.
- No, it can't.

What's this all about, Emily?

It may not be about anything at all.
I intend to find out.

Where are you going?

I'm going to 185 West 74th Street.

If you wish, you may come with me.

I'll come with you.

I had no idea you had this flair
for melodrama, Emily.

Come right in, Mr. Kane.

Charlie.

Charlie, he forced me
to send your wife the letter.

I didn't want to. He's been
saying the most terrible...

Mrs. Kane.

I don't suppose
anybody would introduce us.

I'm Jim Gettys.

Yes?

I made Miss, uh, Miss Alexander
send you the note, Mrs. Kane.

She didn't want to at first,
but she did it.

Charlie, the things he said to me.
He threatened to--

Gettys!

I don't think I will postpone doing
something about you until I'm elected.

To start with,
I think I'll break your neck.

Maybe you can do it,
maybe you can't, Mr. Kane.

Charles, your breaking this man's neck
would scarcely explain... this note.

"Serious consequences for Mr. Kane,
for yourself and for your son."

- He just wanted to get her to come here--
- What does this note mean, Miss...

I'm Susan Alexander.
I know what you think, Mrs. Kane.

- What does this note mean, Miss Alexander?
- She don't know, Mrs. Kane.

She just sent it because I made her see
it wouldn't be smart not to send it.

- In case you don't know, this gentleman--
- I'm not a gentleman.

Your husband's only trying to be funny
calling me one.

I don't even know what a gentleman is.

You see, my idea of a gentleman...

Well, Mrs. Kane, if I owned a newspaper

and I didn't like the way somebody
was doing things, some politician, say,

I'd fight him with everything I had.

Only I wouldn't show him
in a convict suit with stripes

so his children could see
the picture in the paper or his mother.

- You're a cheap, crooked grafter--
- We're talking now about what you are.

Mrs. Kane, I'm fighting for my life.
Not just my political life, my life.

- Charlie, he said unless you--
- That's what I said.

Here's the chance I'm willing to give him.
More of a chance than he'd give me.

Unless Mr. Kane makes up
his mind by tomorrow

that he's so sick he has to go away
for a year or two,

Monday morning every paper in this state,
except his,

will carry the story I'm gonna give 'em.

What story?

The story about him
and Miss Alexander, Mrs. Kane.

- There isn't any story--
- Shut up!

Mr. Kane was just--

We've got evidence
that'll look bad in the headlines.

Do you want me to give her
the evidence, Mr. Kane?

I'd rather Mr. Kane withdrew
without having to get the story published.

Not that I care about him,
but I'd be better off that way.

Well, what about--

So would you, Mrs. Kane.

What about me?

Charlie, he said my name
would be dragged through the mud,

that everywhere I went from now on--

There seems to be only one decision
you can make, Charles.

I'd say it'd been made for you.

You can't tell me
the voters of this state--

I'm not interested in the voters
of this state right now.

I'm interested in our son.

- If they publish the story, it'll be all--
- They won't.

Good night, Mr. Gettys.

Are you coming, Charles?

No.

I'm staying here.

- I can fight this all alone.
- Charles.

If you don't listen to reason,
it may be too late.

Too late?

For what?

For you and this... public thief

to take the love of the people
of this state away from me?

Charlie, you got other things
to think about.

Your little boy. You don't want him
to read about you in the papers.

There's only one person in the world
to decide what I'm gonna do and that's me.

You decided what you were going
to do, Charles, some time ago.

You're making a bigger fool of yourself
than I thought you would, Mr. Kane.

- I've got nothing to talk to you about.
- You're licked. Why don't you--

Get out. If you wanna see me,
have the warden write me a letter.

If it was anybody else,
I'd say what's gonna happen to you

would be a lesson to you.

Only you're gonna need
more than one lesson.

And you're gonna get more than one lesson.

Don't worry about me, Gettys.

Don't worry about me!

I'm Charles Foster Kane!

I'm no cheap, crooked politician

trying to save himself
from the consequences of his crimes!

Gettys! I'm gonna send you to Sing Sing!

Sing Sing, Gettys! Sing Si--

Have you a car, Mrs. Kane?

Yes, thank you.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Hey, all, read all about it!
Hey, all!

Extra! Paper!
Read all about the Kane scandal!

Extra! Paper!

"Candidate Kane caught
in love nest with 'singer'."

- Paper, mister? Paper?
- No, thanks.

With a million majority
already against him

and the church counties
still to be heard from...

I'm afraid we got no choice.

This one?

That one.

Well, good night again.

- Is there anything I--
- No, thanks, Mr. Bernstein.

Better go home and get some sleep.

You too.

Mm-hmm.

Good night, Mr. Kane.

- Hello, Jedediah.
- I'm drunk.

Well, if you've... got drunk to...
talk to me about...

Miss Alexander, don't bother.

I'm not interested.

I've set back the sacred cause of reform.
Is that it?

All right.

If that's the way they want it,
the 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.

Goodness.

As long as I can remember, you've talked
about giving the people their rights,

as if you could make them
a present of liberty

as a reward for services rendered.

- Jed--
- Remember the working man?

I'll get drunk too, Jedediah...

if it will do any good.

It won't do any good.
Besides you never get drunk.

You used to write an awful lot
about the working man.

Oh, go on home.

He's turning into something
called organized labor.

You're not gonna like that one little bit

when you find out
it means that your working man

expects something as his right,
not as your gift.

Charlie.

When your precious underprivileged
really get together,

oh, boy.

That's gonna add up to something
bigger than your privilege.

Then I don't know what you'll do.

Sail away to a desert island, probably,
and lord it over the monkeys.

I wouldn't worry about it too much, Jed.

There'll probably be a few of them there
to let me know when I do something wrong.

Mmm. You may not always be so lucky.

You're not very drunk.

Drunk. What do you care?

You don't care about anything except you.

You just wanna persuade people
that you love them so much

that they ought to love you back.

Only you want love on your own terms.

It's something to be played your way,
according to your rules.

Charlie, I want you to let me
work on the Chicago paper.

What?

Well, you said yourself you were looking
for someone to do dramatic "crimitism"...

uh, criticism.

I am drunk.

I wanna go to Chicago.

You're too valuable here.

Well, Charlie, there's nothing left
for me to do but ask you to accept my--

- All right, you can go to Chicago.
- Thank you.

Guess I'd better try to get drunk anyway.

I warn you, Jedediah,
you're not gonna like it in Chicago.

The wind comes howling in off the lake,

and gosh only knows
if they ever heard of lobster Newburg.

Will Saturday after next be all right?

- Anytime you say.
- Thank you.

A toast, Jedediah, to love on my terms.

Those are the only terms
anybody ever knows...

his own.

Hey, hey, hey, Mr. Kane!
I'm from the Inquirer!

All right, fire away!

with politics?

- What's that, young man?
- Are you through with politics?

Am I through with politics?

I should say vice versa.
We're gonna be a great opera star.

Are you gonna sing
at the Metropolitan, Mrs. Kane?

We certainly are.

Charlie said if I didn't,
he'd build me an opera house.

That won't be necessary.

No, no, no, no, no!

- Miss Alexander!
- Oh, no, no, no, no, no!

You must wait for the chord!

Miss Alexander!

Places!

Places! Places!

Places, everybody!

Places, everybody!

Places!

Places, everybody!

Places, please!

Places, everybody!

On stage, everybody!

Places, please!

Mr. Leland is writing it
from the dramatic angle?

And we've covered it
from the news end.

- Naturally.
- And the social.

How about the music notice?
You got that end?

Oh, yes, that's already made up.

Uh, Mr. Mowan wrote a swell review.

- Enthusiastic?
- Yes, sir.

- Naturally.
- Mr. Bernstein.

- Mr. Kane.
- Mr. Kane.

- Hello, Mr. Kane. This is a surprise.
- Gentlemen.

Everything's been done
exactly to your instructions.

- We've got two spreads of pictures.
- That's fine.

- The music notice on the front page?
- Yes, Mr. Kane.

But there's still one notice to come —
the dramatic.

Dramatic notice?

Mr. Bernstein,
that's Mr. Leland, isn't it?

Yes, Mr. Kane. We're waiting for it.

- Where is he?
- Right in there, Mr. Kane.

Mr. Kane.

Mr. Kane.

Mr. Leland and Mr. Kane, they...

haven't spoken together for years.

-You don't suppose —
-There's nothing to suppose.

Excuse me.

Close the door.

He ain't been drinking before, Mr. Kane.

- Never. We would have heard.
- What's it say there?

The notice. What's he written?

"Miss Susan Alexander,

"a pretty but hopelessly
incompetent amateur...

"last night opened
the new Chicago Opera House

"in a performance of..."

I still can't pronounce
that name, Mr. Kane.

"Her singing, happily,
is no concern of this department.

"Of her acting,
it is absolutely impossible to..."

Go on.

- Go on.
- That's all there is.

"Of her acting, it is absolutely
impossible to say anything except that,

"in the opinion of this reviewer,
it represents a new low."

Have you got that, Mr. Bernstein?

- "In the opinion of this reviewer..."
- I didn't see that.

It isn't here, Mr. Bernstein.
I'm dictating.

Well, Mr. Kane, I...

Get me a typewriter.

I'm gonna finish Mr. Leland's notice.

Hello, Bernstein.

- Hello.
- Hello, Mr. Leland.

Where's my notice, Bernstein?
I've got to finish my notice.

Mr. Kane is finishing it for you.

Charlie?

Charlie?

Charlie out there?

Hmm. I guess he's fixing it up.

I knew I'd never get that through.

Mr. Kane is finishing your review
just the way you started it.

He's writing a bad notice
like you wanted it to be.

I guess that'll show you.

Hello, Jedediah.

Hello, Charlie.

I didn't know we were speaking.

Sure we're speaking, Jedediah.

You're fired.

Everybody knows that story, Mr. Leland.

But... why did he do it?

- How could a man write a notice like that?
- You just don't know Charlie.

He thought that by finishing that notice
he could show me he was an honest man.

He was always trying to prove something.

That whole thing about Susie
being an opera singer,

that was trying to prove something.

You know what the headline was
the day before the election?

'Candidate Kane
found In love nest with 'singer.'

He was gonna take
the quotes off the singer.

Hey, nurse!

Five years ago, he wrote from that place
down there in the south, uh...

what's it called, uh...

Shangri-la? El Dorado?

Sloppy Joe's?

What was the name of that place?

Oh, right. Xanadu.

I knew it all the time.
You caught on, didn't you?

I guess maybe I'm not as hard
to see through as I think.

Well, I never even answered his letter.

Maybe I should have.

Guess he was pretty lonely down there
in that colosseum all those years.

He hadn't finished it when she left him.
He never finished it.

He never finished anything...
except my notice.

Of course, he built the joint for her.

- That must have been love.
- I don't know.

He was disappointed in the world,
so he built one of his own.

An absolute monarchy.

Something bigger
than an opera house, anyway.

- Nurse!
- Yes, Mr. Leland.

Oh, I'm coming. Uh, uh...

Listen, young fella,
there is one thing you can do for me.

Sure.

Stop at the cigar store on your way out
and get me a couple of good cigars?

- Be glad to.
- And send them up. Thank you.

One is enough.

You know, when I was a young man,

there used to be an impression around
that nurses were pretty.

Well, it was no truer then
than it is today.

- I'll take your arm, Mr. Leland.
- All right. All right.

You won't forget
about those cigars, will ya?

And, uh, have them wrap them up
to look like, uh, toothpaste or something,

or they'll stop them at the desk.

You know that young doctor
I was telling you about.

Well, he's got an idea he wants
to keep me alive.

I'd rather you'd just talked.

Anything that comes into your mind
about yourself and Mr. Kane.

You wouldn't want to hear a lot
of what comes into my mind

about myself and Mr. Charlie Kane.

You know, maybe I should
never have sung for Charlie

that first time I met him.

But I did an awful lot of singing
after that.

To start with, I sang for teachers
at 100 bucks an hour.

- Teachers got that. I--
- What did you get?

I didn't get a thing. Just music lessons.
That's all there was in it.

He married you, didn't he?

He didn't mention anything about marriage
till after it was all over and...

it got in the papers about us
and he lost the election

and that Norton woman divorced him.

He was really interested in my voice.

What do you suppose
he built that opera house for?

I didn't want it. I didn't want a thing.
It was his idea.

Everything was his idea.

Except my leaving him.

♪ Il mio cor ♪

♪ Il mio cor ♪

Don't forget.

Ta-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta!

Don't get nervous. Don't get nervous.

Please. Let's come back. Staccato, eh?

Please look at me, Mrs. Kane darling. Now...

♪ Get the voice out of the throat ♪

♪ Place the tone right in the mask ♪

Forward, forward.

Now, roll the eyes.

Go ahead. Go ahead.

Diaphragm.

Now.

You're out of pitch.

Some people can sing, some can't.

Impossible! Impossible!

It's not your job to give Mrs. Kane
your opinion of her talents.

You're supposed to train her voice,
Signor Matiste.

- But, Mr. Kane--
- Nothing more.

Please sit down
and continue with the lesson.

- But, Mr. Kane.
- Please.

But I-I will be the laughingstock
of the musical world.

- People will think that I--
- People will think?

You're concerned
with what people will think?

Perhaps I can enlighten you,
Signor Matiste.

I'm something of an authority
on what people will think.

The newspapers, for example.

I run several newspapers
between here and San Francisco.

It's all right, darling. Signor Matiste
is going to listen to reason.

- But, uh--
- Aren't you, Signor Matiste?

- How can I persuade you--
- You can't.

It's all right, darling. Go ahead.

I thought you'd see it my way.

No, no, no, no, no!

- Miss Alexander!
- Oh, no, no, no, no, no!

You must wait for the chord!

Places! Places! Places!

On stage, everybody!

Places, everybody!

Places! Places, everybody!

Places, please!

Perfectly dreadful.

Stop telling me he's your friend!

A friend don't write that kind of review!

All these other papers panning me,
I could expect that!

But for the Inquirer to run a thing like that,
spoiling my whole debut--

- Come in!
- I'll get it.

"Friend"!

Not the kind of friends I know.

But, of course,
I'm not high-class like you,

and I never went to any swell schools.

That'll be enough, Susan. Yes?

- From Mr. Leland, sir.
- Jed Leland?

He wanted me to make sure
that you got this personally.

- Thanks, son.
- Yes, sir.

Is that something from him?

Charlie!

As for you, you oughta
have your head examined,

sending him a letter
telling him he's fired

with a $25,000 check in it.

What kind of firing do you call that?

You did send him a check
for $25,000, didn't you?

Yes.

I sent him a check for $25,000.

What's that?

"Declaration of Principles".

- What?
- Hmm?

What is it?

An antique.

You're awful funny, aren't you?

Well, I can tell you one thing you're not
gonna keep on being funny about,

and that's my singing.

I'm through! I never wanted
to do it in the first place!

You'll 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 leave me alone?

My reasons satisfy me, Susan!

You seem unable to understand them.

I will not tell them to you again.

You will continue with your singing.

Get Dr. Corey.

Susan.

She'll be perfectly all right
in a day or two, Mr. Kane.

I can't imagine how Mrs. Kane
came to make such a foolish mistake.

The sedative Dr. Wagner gave her
was in a somewhat larger bottle.

I guess the strain
of preparing for the new opera

has excited and confused her.

- Yes. Yes, I'm sure that was it.
- Mmm.

No objections to my staying here
with her, are there?

No. No, not at all.

I — I'd like the nurse to be here too.

Good night, Mr. Kane.

Charlie.

I couldn't make you see
how I felt, Charlie.

But I couldn't go through
with the singing again.

You don't know what it means
to know that people are...

that a whole audience
just doesn't want you.

That's when you've gotta fight 'em.

All right.

You won't have to fight 'em anymore.

It's their loss.

What are you doing?

Jigsaw puzzles?

Charlie, what time is it?

- 11:30.
- In New York?

Hmm?

I said, what time is it in New York?

- 11:30.
- At night?

Mm-hmm.

The Bulldog's just gone to press.

Well, hooray for the Bulldog.

Gee, 11:30.

The shows are just getting out.

People are going to nightclubs
and restaurants.

Of course, we're different
because we live in a palace.

You always said you wanted
to live in a palace.

Oh, a person could go crazy in this dump.

Nobody to talk to,
nobody to have any fun with.

Susan.

Forty-nine thousand acres
of nothing but scenery and statues.

I'm lonesome.

Till just yesterday we've had no less
than 50 of your friends at any one time.

I think if you look carefully
in the west wing, Susan,

you'll find about a dozen vacationers
still in residence.

You make a joke out of everything.

Charlie, I wanna go to New York.

I'm tired of being a hostess.
I wanna have fun.

Please, Charlie.

Charlie, please.

Our home is here, Susan.

I don't care to visit New York.

What are you doing?

Oh.

One thing I never can understand, Susan.

How do you know
you haven't done it before?

Makes a whole lot more sense
than collecting statues.

You may be right.

I sometimes wonder.

But you get into the habit.

It's not a habit.
I do it 'cause I like it.

I thought we might have
a picnic tomorrow, Susan.

Huh?

I thought we might have a picnic tomorrow.

Invite everybody to spend
the night at the Everglades.

"Invite everybody".

Order everybody, you mean,
and make them sleep in tents.

Who wants to sleep in tents

when they got a nice room of their own
with their own bath

where they know where everything is?

Thought we might have
a picnic tomorrow, Susan.

You never give me anything
I really care about.

♪ It can't be love ♪

- ♪ For there is no true love ♪
- ♪ No true love ♪

♪ I know I've played at the game ♪

♪ Like a moth in a blue flame ♪

- ♪ Lost in the end, just the same ♪
- ♪ Just the same ♪

♪ All these years ♪

♪ My heart's been floatin' 'round ♪

♪ In a puddle of tears ♪

♪ Mm-mmm ♪

♪ I wonder what it is ♪

Oh, sure, you give me things,
but that don't mean anything to you.

You're in a tent, darling.
You aren't at home.

I can hear you very well if you speak
in a normal tone of voice.

What's the difference
between giving me a bracelet

or giving somebody else
$100,000 for a statue

you're gonna keep crated up
and never even look at?

It's just money. It doesn't mean anything.

You never really give me anything
that belongs to you, that you care about.

Susan, I want you to stop this.

- I'm not gonna stop it!
- Right now.

You never gave me anything
in your whole life.

You just tried to buy me
into giving you something.

Susan!

♪ It can't be love ♪

♪ He said it can't be love ♪

♪ For there is no true love ♪

Whatever I do, I do because I love you.

You don't love me.

You want me to love you. Sure.

"I'm Charles Foster Kane.

"Whatever you want, just name it
and it's yours.

"But you gotta love me."

Don't tell me you're sorry.

I'm not sorry.

Mr. Kane?

Mrs. Kane would like to see you, sir.

Marie has been packing her since morning.

Tell Arnold I'm ready, Marie.

Tell him he can get the bags.

Yes, madame.

Have you gone completely crazy?

Don't you know that our guests,
that everyone here will know about this?

Packed your bag, you've sent for the car...

And left you? Of course they'll hear.

I'm not saying goodbye except to you.

But I never imagined people wouldn't know.

I won't let you go.

Goodbye, Charlie.

Susan.

Please don't go.

No.

Please, Susan.

From now on, everything will be exactly
the way you want it to be.

Not the way I think you want it, but...

your way.

Hmm?

You mustn't go.

You can't do this to me.

I see.

It's you that this is being done to.

It's not me at all.
Not what it means to me.

I can't do this to you?

Oh, yes, I can.

In case you haven't heard how I lost
all my money, and it was plenty, believe me--

The last ten years
have been tough on a lot of people.

Oh, they haven't been tough on me.
I just lost all my money.

So you're going down to Xanadu.

Yeah, Monday with some
of the boys from the office.

Mr. Rawlston wants the whole place
photographed. All that art stuff.

- We run a picture magazine, you know.
- Yeah, I know.

Well, if you're smart, you'll get in touch
with Raymond. He's the butler.

You'll learn a lot from him.
He knows where all the bodies are buried.

You know, all the same,
I feel kind of sorry for Mr. Kane.

Don't you think I do?

What do you know? It's morning already.

Come around and tell me
the story of your life sometime.

Rosebud?

I tell you about Rosebud.

How much is it worth to you?
A thousand dollars?

Okay.

Well, I tell you, Mr. Thompson.

He acted kind of funny sometimes.
You know?

No, I didn't.

Yes, he did crazy things sometimes.

I've been working for him 11 years now,

in charge of the whole place,

so I ought to know.

- Rosebud.
- Yes.

Well, like I tell you, the old man
acted kind of funny sometimes,

but, uh, I knew how to handle him.

- Need a lot of service?
- Mmm, yeah.

But I knew how to handle him.
Like the time his wife left him.

Rosebud.

I see.

And that's what you know about Rosebud?

Yeah.

I heard him say it that other time too.

He just said, uh, "Rosebud".

Then he dropped the glass ball
and it broke on the floor.

He didn't say anything after that
and I knew he was dead.

He said all kinds of things
that didn't mean anything.

Sentimental fellow, aren't you?

Mmm, yes and no.

Well, that isn't worth $1,000.

You can keep on asking questions
if you want.

We're leaving tonight...
as soon as we're through taking pictures.

Allow yourself plenty of time.

The train stops at the junction on Sixth,
but they don't like to wait. Not now.

I can remember when they'd wait all day
if Mr. Kane said so.

Nativity.

Better get going.

- Acquired Florence, 1921.
- Okay.

- Take a picture of that.
- Hey! Can we come down?

Yeah, hurry up. We're leaving.

Okay. Here we come.

How much do you think
all this is worth, Mr. Thompson?

Millions.

If anybody wants it.

Well, at least he brought
all this stuff to America.

- What's that?
- Another Venus.

Twenty-five thousand bucks.

That's a lot of money to pay
for a dame without a head.

- The banks are out of luck then?
- Oh, I don't know.

- They'll clear all right.
- He never threw anything away.

"Welcome home, Mr. Kane,

"from 467 employees
of the New York Inquirer."

"One stove from the estate
of Mary Kane, Little Salem, Colorado.

"Value, two dollars."

We're supposed to get everything,
the junk as well as the art.

He sure liked to collect things,
didn't he?

Anything and everything.

A regular crow, huh?

- Hey, look, a jigsaw puzzle.
- We got a lot of those.

A Burmese temple
and three Spanish ceilings down the hall.

Yeah. All in crates.

Part of a Scotch castle over there,
but we haven't bothered to unwrap it yet.

I wonder,
you put all this stuff together —

the palaces and the paintings,
and the toys and everything.

What would it spell?

- Charles Foster Kane?
- Or Rosebud.

How about it, Jerry?

- What's Rosebud?
- That's what he said when he died.

- Did you ever find out what it means?
- No, I didn't.

- What did you find out about him, Jerry?
- Not much, really.

We'd better get started.

What have you been doing all this time?

Playing with a jigsaw puzzle.

If you could have found out
what that Rosebud meant,

I bet that would have explained
everything.

No, I don't think so.

No.

Mr. Kane was a man who got
everything he wanted and then lost it.

Maybe Rosebud was something
he couldn't get or something he lost.

Anyway, it wouldn't have
explained anything.

I don't think any word
can explain a man's life.

No, I guess Rosebud
is just a piece in a jigsaw puzzle.

A missing piece.

Well, come on, everybody.

We'll miss the train.

Throw that junk in.

Maybe I was, uh, what you
nowadays would call a stooge, huh?

Everything was his idea.

Except my leaving him.

I've got his trunk all packed.

I've had it packed for a week now.

Sometimes I think I'd prefer
a rival of flesh and blood.

You're gonna need more than one lesson.

And you're gonna get more than one lesson.

Who's a busy man? Me?

I'm chairman of the board.
I got nothing but time.

What do you want to know?

Well, Mr. Bernstein, we thought maybe
if we could find out

what he meant by his last words
as he was dying.

Sentimental fellow, aren't you?

Mmm, yes and no.

"I think it would be fun
to run a newspaper."

"I think it would be fun
to run a newspaper."