There's no shortage of behind-the-scenes docudramas, chronicling the production of classic movies with cliched, predictable drama. So it is with RKO 281 (1999), another tale of brilliant artists fighting uncomprehending producers (and their powerful ally). This HBO film was well-received, earning several Emmys, but its treatment of Citizen Kane's production owes more to genre cliches than fact.
Famous for his Broadway shows and the radio broadcast War of the Worlds, Orson Welles (Liev Scheiber) arrives in Hollywood with an RKO contract. An encounter with press tycoon William Randolph Hearst (James Cromwell) inspires Welles and screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz (John Malkovich) conjure an idea. They collaborate on a script which becomes Citizen Kane, a thinly-veiled biopic of Hearst. As the film shoots, Hearst learns of the movie and seeks to destroy it. In the face of studio skepticism and media hostility, Welles must work behind-the-scenes to save his masterpiece.
John Logan's script cribs heavily from The Battle for Citizen Kane, a remarkable documentary detailing Welles' struggles in producing the film. Director Benjamin Ross evokes Welles' visual details: the newsreel introducing Welles, Welles haunted by animals from Hearst's menagerie, Marion Davies's (Melanie Griffith) giant jigsaw puzzles, grips staring down from the rafters. These couple with amusing bits of trivia: Welles obsessively watching Stagecoach to learn direction, or hacking a hole in the floor to get a lower camera angle.
RKO 281's heavy on invention: there's a long sequence with Welles visiting San Simeon and envisioning Kane after locking horns with Hearst. RKO fumbles with Kane's screenwriting controversy: here, the idea originates with Welles, yet Mankiewicz conveniently has a decade's worth of Hearst gossip notes in his bedroom. Other farfetched devices include Hearst personally threatening Hollywood's studio chiefs, and Welles giving same individuals a rousing speech defending Art. Welles' elevator run-in with Hearst, however, allegedly did occur.
For the most part, RKO 281 stands on firmer ground interpreting his protagonists. Welles is convincingly characterized as a charming egomaniac and obsessive artist, who channels his own personality into Kane: dialogue hints at his future has-been status. Welles balances his ignorance of cinema with his eagerness to create art, while his ego annoys his collaborators. Herman Mankiewicz is a washed-up hack who stakes everything on this unlikely comeback: he's understandably upset when Welles plans to deny him credit. Even Marion Davies gets a shaded portrayal, bemoaning her lost career but devoted to Hearst.
Too bad RKO makes Hearst a cartoon supervillain. Threatening a studio chief, he drops antisemitic fillips between evil cackles. Another scene has Hearst briefing columnist Louella Parsons (Brenda Blethyn), saying that hatred of Welles will "nourish us both." He even suggests publishing photos of FDR in a wheelchair! Logan shows Hearst's affection for Marion and troubles with debt; if these were meant to humanize Hearst, they don't really work. When he tells Marion "I could have been a great man, but I'm not," it's less tragic than ludicrous.
If RKO 281 clunks dramatically, the cast doesn't disappoint. Liev Scheiber doesn't resemble Welles, but gamely approximates his energy, charm and obsessive drive. John Malkovich makes a pitch-perfect foil. James Cromwell is appropriately ghoulish while Melanie Griffith is pitch-perfect as a vain, washed-up starlet. Roy Scheider plays George Schaeffer, Kane's producer; Liam Cunningham, cinematographer Gregg Toland. Less successful are Brenda Blethyn's shrewish, smoke-breathing gorgon and Roger Allam's ludicrous Walt Disney impression.
There's a market for shows like this, but I've yet to see one that really works. Typically such films offer just enough trivia and inside humor to seem revealing, but don't really cut to the meat of filmmaking. RKO 281 is modestly diverting, but neither accurate nor especially insightful.
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