Our figurehead here in WHOMville is today’s birthday boy, Orson Welles. Mr. Welles is the show business icon who, after an astounding career in theater, radio, and motion pictures, where he expanded the potential of each art form, is most often remembered today in association with frozen peas.
Not that poor Orse didn’t do it to himself, taking to kitschy TV appearances in his old age like Paul Lynde to center square, but the damage to his legacy in his lifetime sent a loud message to film legends everywhere: Whatever you do, don’t get old and fat. You’ll be relegated to voiceovers in kiddie cartoons.
I’ve often wondered if this is somehow key to my lifelong fascination with Welles, evidenced by my countless efforts to scrawl his scowling likeness. He is the patron saint of the has-beens, the bright star of youth who, though burning with creativity until the end, was thought to have exploded too soon. His groundbreaking Shakespeare productions, his War of the Worlds stunt (which, though mostly remembered as a proto-punk’d prank, is still effectively creepy), his glorious Citizen Kane, Magnificent Ambersons, his unforgettable turn as Harry Lime, Othello, the deep and heartbreaking Chimes at Midnight - all of this forgotten or unknown by the generation who knew him only as TV pitchman for supermarket wine.
“Oh, how they’ll love me when I’m dead,” the not-yet-dead Welles predicted. And were he still around, he would have not only witnessed the rise of his legacy as America’s foremost cinematic genius but the inevitable backlash from the “Citizen Kane ain’t so great” gutter punks who prefer Pulp Fiction to too-old-didn’t-watch innovation.
Naturally, for those us who are, at best, almost-rans in our chosen fields, we may maintain the delusion that our Citizen Kanes still lie ahead of us. We’ve escaped the curse of early burnout, having not yet found acclaim or success, and will be too busy with our late-life masterpieces to turn magic tricks on the Tonight Show.
Or argue with commercial directors about frozen peas.
- A.H.
(And let’s not forget Ashley’s website, jam-packed with portraits and other drawings, his highly-affordable prints and books currently available, his eagerness for your portrait commission, and his contact email, thrdgll@gmail.com, where he longs to hear from you.)
What fascinates me about Welles is his devotion to his art. The tacky commercials you mention were seen by him as tools to help him make his films. His later more introspective work For Fake can be seen as a mediation on his creative process and its value.
I had a friend who said, imagine creating a masterpiece like Citizen Kane at a young age and spending the rest of your life trying to equal or better it .
I took my friend's musing to heart and have refrained from creating any masterpieces of any kind.