40in40 – Citizen Kane
My Netflix rating: 4.5/5 stars, bumped up from the 3 I rated it in college.
I guess in 1941, they made movies in black and white, and I don’t just mean grayscale. Citizen Kane was a very pure movie. It was clear in its intent, impeccable in its execution, and ultimately epic. In being so pure, this movie was able to withstand the test of time. Sixty-eight years later, it’s still arguably one of the best movies ever made. All sorts of experts have made arguments about this movie’s worth, from the Oscar committee of 1942 (it didn’t win Best Picture*) to the Simpsons. And although arguing this point any further might be a waste of breath, I want to address three points that I personally think make this move so worthwhile.
Let’s start with “Rosebud.” How loaded is that word? And starting off the movie with it the way he (Orson Welles) did! The trick might be hackneyed today, but in 1941 people must have been falling out of their seats. It immediately sets the tone for the whole movie as one of mystery and darkness. Over the two hours, I thought of a dozen things Rosebud can be – the snowglobe, a nickname for his paper, a former lover, a lost child, a moniker for a lady’s sweetspot, it was all possible. The ambiguity of that word bestowed infinite depth to the man who spoke it.
Which leads me to depth of Charlie Foster Kane and his commentary on the world. I didn’t think very much of the man, himself, but I absolutely loved how Welles developed him. Before we know anything about him, we see Kane die before our eyes. Just as “Rosebud” gave the man depth, so did his mortality undermined any superficial significance he might have. All of a sudden, Kane is a blank slate with infinite possibility but ultimately no real value. Sounds like all of mankind huh? It rocks me how much this applies to my understanding of myself. I have everything to learn from and grow into, but inevitably, I will be of no material worth. My legacy will be defined by everybody who knew me and by the love I gave them. Charlie Foster Kane never gave much love, so our journey of discovery starts and ends with a closed gate. I thought this was a brilliant narrative of a man who had everything, but left nothing.
My favorite part of the movie, and my last point, is the involvement of the audience. I think I hated this movie in college because I didn’t give it a chance. It was so over-hyped that I just assumed it was another one of “those movies.” After watching it a second time, I realized how closely related this movie is to the actual character of Kane. Its value is highly dependent on how open the audience is to its worth. We have to take our time to study it and apply our own meaning to get anything back. Essentially, we have to love it in order to receive love. Break through its prodigious exterior and you really have a very delicate and needy film. “Rosebud,” as worn-out as it is, is still very fragile. Charlie Foster Kane is really just a pathetic, misunderstood man. Without us to watch and care about this movie, it’s nothing.
And so, I upped my Netflix rating to 4.5 as a sign of respect. Respect – what an interesting word. I once taught my kids the basic meaning of “respect,” which literally means to look again. Re-spect. Take another gander. Revisit your original opinion. This is a great exercise not just for yourself, although you probably will benefit from it. But, really, respect is most beneficial for those of us who don’t have anything else, which, in the end, is everybody. We all need some respect, don’t we, to have any real worth at all.
“I don’t think any word can explain a man’s life.” –Mr. Thompson
* FYI, the best picture of 1941 was How Green Was My Valley, the sequel to the hit porno, How Pink Was My Gorge… sorry, I had to.
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