An animated and blustery silver-tongued affair serving to incise into the show biz tumult around Henry Mankiewicz’s Citizen Kane screenplay, while wrapping itself in an affectionate blanket of old Hollywood aristocracy and lasciviousness. It is immaculately crafted and lovingly rendered, though its “perfection through imperfection” made it feel less a diamond gem and more a cubic zirconium fugazi. It is beautiful, but can never be the genuinely of the past or possess the majesty of its intrinsic counterpart; but let that not be its denigration, for it shines bright and well on its own.
The radically bouncy script flings the narrative to and fro, with old Hollywood names and snappy ratatat dialogue blowing through a chaotic storm of timelines, flashbacks, and subtext. But it is the eye of that storm (Mank himself) which grounds us - he is the purpose, and his purpose becomes the poetic genius of the feature. The film’s interlaced anatomy, visual oeuvre and eager gumption are vaguely mirroring that same of Citizen Kane, the structural girders for telling this story. Makes for a rewarding cinematic consumption, pouring over each double edge line, referential-but-fresh shot, and poisoned with purpose expression from the talented cast.
Oldman is marvelous in his slick talking, drunkenly disheveled, quixotic enigma of good & ill in a man. The passion is present, as are his gifts, but they seem tied to his downfalls. He does well to capture the nuance of situational awareness and emotional complexities in his face, all while his life is careening on the edge at 90 mph. The juxtaposition of this and Welles performance in Kane cannot be undersold and salt the performative dish to impeccability. Seyfried’s Marion Davies is elegant and evocative, while Tom Burke’s Orson Welles is smartly imitated but wisely not overused.
Its funny that this finally comes to fruition in our 2020 political fracas. Drawing the lines between Charles Dance’s Hearst, the inspiration for Kane, which in turn bears an uncanny resemblance to the blusterous Trump, makes for a chilling experience. There is also Upton Sinclair, played pointedly by your favorite science guy Bill Nye, with his rhetoric echoing the calls of the Left, in particular Bernie Sanders. The debate between the labels of communism and socialism levied upon the Democratic nominee in this post-Depression era feel as if they poured out of the mouth of a current day Fox talking head. And the ultimate Hollywoodization of the political game here, blending the fictitious with the factual and creating fake news. As paid actors become the “common person” and the lines between entertainment and political truth are brushed away like sand from a darkened porch feels all the more portentous in our post-Murdoch newscape.
This was not a dazzling revelation as the upper-echelon of hope for it might have decreed, but it is quite good, with expert craftsmanship, a unique & adept screenplay, and magnetic performances. It made me want to watch Citizen Kane again, which is never a bad thing.