Looking
back at
the
life
and
career
of the
late,
great
Orson
Welles,
it's
hard to
imagine
how far
he had
fallen
from
the
great
heights
he once
ascended
to.
By the
twilight
of his
career
in the
70's
and
'80's,
Welles
was
forced
to take
work
wherever
and
whenever
he
could
find
it. The
man who
gave us
perhaps
one of
the
best
films
ever
produced
in Citizen Kane was
relegated
to
doing
wine
commercials
(people
of a
certain
age
remember
the
Paul
Masson
ads),
talk
shows,
comedy
roasts,
and
game
shows.
The
then
current
power
brokers
in
Hollywood
while
publicly
worshipping
Welles
refused
to take
his
calls,
or
offer
him
financing
for
numerous
ongoing
projects. Welles
had
found
himself
in the
company
of the
'Charles
Nelson
Reillys'
of the
entertainment
world
(no
disrespect
to the
memory
of Mr.
Reilly.)
It was
at this
point
in his
life
that a
young
Henry
Jaglom
entered
Welles's
life
and the
two
became
fast
friends.
Welles
would
appear
in two
of
Jaglom's
films
– A Safe Place, and Someone To Love.
In
1978,
the two
began
meeting
regularly
for
lunch
at the
West
Hollywood
restaurant
Ma
Maison.
It has
been
described
as
trendy,
but its
patrons
consisted
of
stars
past
their
prime,
not
unlike
Welles
himself.
Due to
his
portly
frame
(he
once
hovered
around
400
lbs.)
and
various
health
issues,
Welles
was not
exactly
ambulatory.
He hid
his
wheelchair
around
back
and
entered
through
the
kitchen.
He was
often
accompanied
by his
precious
toy
poodle
Kiki.
But
even
after
considering
Welles's
sad
state
of
affairs
at the
time,
who
wouldn't
want to
be a
fly on
the
wall at
Ma
Maison.
Gore
Vidal
has
described
Welles's
conversations
as
being
"always
surreal
and
always
cryptic.
Either
you
picked
up on
it or
you
were
left
out".
As it
turns
out,
you
don't
have to
be left
out.
Beginning
in
1983,
Jaglom
brought
along a
tape
recorder
to
record
their
lunch
conversations.
Welles
gave
his
blessing
as long
as the
recording
device
was
hidden
from
his
view. The
tapes
were to
ostensibly
provide
material
for a
planned
autobiography.
With
Welles's
death
in
1985,
the
tapes
sat in
Jaglom's
garage
untouched
for
almost
30
years
until
writer
Peter
Biskind
got
wind of
them. Biskind
encouraged
Jaglom
to
transcribe
them.
With
that
done,
Biskind
edited
the
transcripts
into
book
form. My Lunches With Orson is
the end
result.
These
conversations
catch
Welles
at his
most
raw and
revealing,
more so
than an
earlier
collaboration
with
Peter
Bogdanovitch
which
yielded This
Is
Orson
Welles. The
book
does
capture
plenty
of
salacious
Hollywood
gossip.
After
all,
what's
Hollywood
without
it,
then or
now?
And if
the
tapes
had
been
released
during
Welles's
lifetime,
it had
the
potential
to set
Hollywood
on fire
with
his
incendiary
revelations.
But
beyond
that,
nearly
every
conversation
is
peppered
with
something
thought
provoking,
instructive,
witty,
raucously
funny,
and a
memorable
quote. Even
in his
last
years,
these
tapes
reveal
a
nimble
and an
agile
mind.
Like a
great
talk
show
host,
Jaglom
keeps
Welles
focused
as he
covers
a wide
range
of
subjects:
politics,
the
loves
of his
life,
his
long
running
feud
with
John
Houseman,
the
dirty
business
of
getting
films
financed/distributed,
and yes
the
making
of Citizen Kane.
One of
the
more
profound
topics
Welles
brings
up for
discussion
in his
dialogue
with
Jaglom
is the
role of
the
artist
in an
ever
increasing
technological
and
scientific
juggernaut.
If
science
and
technology
can
answer
all of
our
questions
and
meet
all of
our
human
needs,
of what
relevance
is the
poet,
playwright,
musician,
and
novelist.
If
everything
can be
reduced
to
brain
chemistry
and the
latest
scientific
breakthrough,
then
there
is no
mystery
to life
anymore.
But
Welles
continued
to seek
relevance
even as
his
stock
declined.
And
while
admitting
he was
an
atheist
in an
early
conversation,
subsequent
conversations
seem to
contradict
that
assertion.
In
fact,
one
gets
the
feeling
that
Welles
was
hellbent
on a
spiritual
quest
(no pun
intended).
There
are
times,
however,
when
Jaglom
becomes
exasperated
and
incredulous
at
something
Welles
has
uttered.
It is
those
times
that he
appears
to say
something
provocative
just to
keep
the
conversation
going.
One of
his
best
quotes
is
"I
can
make a
case
for all
points
of
view".
Welles
calling Citizen Kane a
comedy
is one
of
those
points
of
view.
Other
times
catch
Welles
acting
like a
prankish
schoolboy
with
Kiki
being
his
partner
in
crime.
Once
when
the
waiter
is
overcome
with
the
smell
of
flatulence,
Welles
blames
it on
Kiki. He
reminds
Jaglom
that is
what
rich
people
did
back in
the old
days.
They
carried
a dog
around
so they
could
blame
their
flatulence
on
their
pooch. Once
when
greeted
by Zza
Zza
Gabor,
he
warns
her
that
Kiki
bites
Hungarians. He
would
rudely
dismiss
Richard
Burton
and
warmly
invite
Jack
Lemmon.
But
whatever
he did,
Welles
felt
comfortable
in that
setting
and in
the
company
of
Henry
Jaglom.
Jaglom
in an
NPR
interview
made
clear
that at
Ma
Maison,
Welles
didn't
have to
put on
the
"dancing
bear"
act.
The
conversations
ended
for
good on
Oct.
10,
1985.
Welles
suffered
a
massive
heart
attack
while
at his
typewriter
doing
what he
did
best
–
working
on a
script.
Ma
Maison
closed
its
doors
soon
after. My
Lunches
With
Orson is a fitting tribute to a larger than life figure.
|