Citizen Kane: Crash Course Film Criticism #1 Video Lecture | Know more about Hollywood Film Industry: History, Production, and Criticism - Art & Craft

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Hello!
As you might have noticed, I’m not Craig
or Lily.
My name’s Michael Aranda, and I’ll be
your host for the last third of Crash Course Film.
Now, since we’re getting to know each other, let me ask you a question: What’s your favorite film?
Maybe there’s a movie that makes you wanna
get fit, or become a spy, or save the world
Or maybe you love anything that Zoe Saldana
is in, because she’s just the coolest.
Films can have an awesome story or sloppy
lighting, dazzling special effects or characters
who are just straight-up stereotypes.
All these things can affect how you feel about
a movie, and whether you’d give it a thumbs
up on Netflix… because that’s a thing
now.
But they can also affect how it fits into
cinema history, and impacts the world around us.
We’ll think critically
about a lot of very different movies, starting
with an American classic that many people
call “the greatest film ever made.”
It came from ambition and some unusual circumstances,
with Orson Welles at the helm.
And even though it’s been a long time since
its release in 1941, this film’s technical
cleverness and story still resonate with audiences
today.
I’m talking, of course, about Citizen Kane.
[Intro Music Plays]
Calling Citizen Kane one of the best films
of all time is a complicated claim to make.
To be honest, the idea of ranking movies and
making a top ten list may be fun, but it’s
not what film criticism is really about.
It’s about thinking deeply about how the
movie works, both to us as an audience member,
and within history and society.
It’s about understanding, deconstructing,
feeling, and learning.
So is Citizen Kane the “Greatest Movie Ever
Made?”
Well, we can’t answer that, because it’s
not the question we should be asking.
But there’s clearly something about it that
sticks with us.
And maybe that something is its origin story.
Orson Welles was hoisted into the spotlight
at the ripe young age of 23, when he was performing
with The Mercury Theatre company — a troupe
that he helped create.
In 1938, Welles directed and narrated the
radio drama The War of the Worlds, and supposedly
struck fear into some listeners who thought
that an actual alien invasion was happening.
Welles on the radio: We know now that in the early years of the 20th century...
This world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man.
But he also caught the attention of studio
execs at RKO, one of the five film studios
that reigned during the Golden Age of Hollywood.
Not only that, but they gave him complete
creative control, which was, like, really
unusual at the time.
So he did what any plucky artist in his mid-20s
would do: he packed up his stuff and invited
his buddies from the Mercury Theatre company
to come with him to Hollywood.
Now, I don’t want to sell them short.
This was a group of very good actors.
And, despite his lack of experience with the
movie industry, Welles leapt into this project
with a lot of ambition, performing experience,
and fresh ideas.
He wanted to be involved in as many aspects
of the film as possible, from directing to
starring as the film’s eponymous Charles
Foster Kane.
Welles filled out his production team with
other talented men from Hollywood who were
itching to experiment with their craft — people
like Gregg Toland, a cameraman who contributed
a lot to the film’s look and technical innovations.
And Welles is credited as co-writer with Herman
J. Mankiewicz, a journalist who hopped over
into the world of filmmaking, and was an experienced
screenwriter by the time he worked on this project.
Citizen Kane tells the life story of a wealthy
newspaper magnate.
The first time we meet Kane, he’s on his
deathbed in a massive mansion called Xanadu,
dramatically murmuring his last word: “Rosebud.”
The story is told in flashbacks through interviews
with people Kane once knew, like his friend
and fellow reporter Jedediah Leland, his business
manager Mr. Bernstein, and his second wife,
Susan Alexander Kane.
In the last sequence of shots, we find out
that “Rosebud” is referencing a sled he
had as a kid, before he was separated from
his family and sent to boarding school with
a new guardian.
So Citizen Kane could be a story about…
well… a lot of things: the loss of childhood,
human flaws, memory, or the complications
of power and wealth.
Film criticism is... pretty subjective.
But Citizen Kane is also a story that was
influenced by real life — specifically,
tycoons like the news mogul William Randolph
Hearst.
While Welles insisted the film wasn’t meant
to be a personal attack on Hearst, all of
the parallels and the fact that Mankiewicz
was a former friend of Hearst made him take
the film real personally.
And when you have a buttload of money, and
power over lots of news outlets, your grudges
become public.
Fast.
Initially, RKO and Orson Welles planned on
debuting Citizen Kane at the Radio City Music
Hall, like other big RKO movies.
But the venue turned it down.
Eventually, the the film’s release was delayed
until May 1st, 1941 in New York.
And the critical reception was actually pretty
good!
A review by Kate Cameron, published on May
2nd in the New York Daily News, called Citizen
Kane “one of the most interesting and technically
superior films that has ever come out of a
Hollywood studio.”
The controversy did mess with the film’s
commercial success, though.
It didn’t gain much public traction until
it was released again in the 1950s.
So part of what makes Citizen Kane memorable
is that it was an ambitious project, headed
by a maverick filmmaker, and had a lot of
drama around its release.
We humans do love ourselves some drama.
But the content of the film speaks for itself,
too.
The creators of Citizen Kane had the freedom
to play and innovate.
Many of their technical experiments changed
the way film was being used as a storytelling
medium — which, arguably, could be another
way to define “greatness.”
It takes a keen eye to notice some of these
tricks, or at the very least some good commentary tracks.
A lot of the innovation had to do with cameras.
Gregg Toland, the cinematographer, helped
pioneer the use of deep focus lenses, so that
everything in a scene is in focus at once,
not just the foreground or the background.
Citizen Kane doesn’t use focus to guide
your attention in a scene.
Instead, things like dialogue or movement
draw your eye to certain people at certain times.
It’s very much like theater, where Welles
had honed his directing and acting chops.
They use perspective to surprise you, like
to mess with your sense of scale when Kane
walks toward a normal-looking background,
only to be dwarfed by a huge window or fireplace.
It’s a neat visual effect, but also punctuates
the story with a little metaphor.
You’re seeing this man physically shrink
in his environment as he’s losing control
over his business and life.
And camera movements are combined with other
practical effects to really immerse you in
the story.
Take the scene where Kane is a kid playing
in the snow, while his parents are inside
a cabin and talking about sending him away.
The camera pulls back through a window, and
eventually stops on the other side of a dining table.
But, from the final framing, you can see that
the table would’ve been in the way of the
movement.
The trick is in the set: it’s actually a
mechanical table that splits and comes back together.
So the mise-en-scene is never broken, and
the scene can keep playing out.
You, the viewer, are none the wiser, because
you’re wrapped up in this incredible illusion
of reality the film has constructed.
Other practical tricks are used in The Inquirer
office, where Kane’s newspaper staff works.
These scenes were unusual for movies at the
time, because there are visible ceilings.
Now this doesn’t sound that weird.
Because, y’know, normal office buildings
have ceilings.
But production teams usually stuck lights
and sound equipment above their actors’ heads.
So to keep the movie magic intact, they had
to keep ceilings out of frame.
In this case, the lights and microphones are
still up there — just, hidden right above
the ceilings, which are made of muslin sheets.
They also cut out chunks of the floor to make
room for the camera, so they could get dramatic
low-angle shots, making the actors look larger
than life.
The trick to Citizen Kane is that all these
effects — which are everywhere — don’t
feel like effects in the same way a CGI dragon
does.
They subtly draw you into the world.
For instance, Welles often blends matte drawings
with physical sets, to make everything seem
more immersive, despite a limited budget.
This is how they create the beginning of the
film, leading us toward the window of Xanadu
and Kane’s deathbed.
Plus, it’s how they make the inside of Xanadu,
the outside of The Inquirer building, and
audiences during the big campaign speech and
opera.
These tricks were accomplished with optical
printers, which let them shoot and light two
images or scenes separately, and stitch them
into one.
Effects also let them add visual twists to
the story, in ways Welles couldn’t with
live theatre.
Like when Susan Alexander is performing in
the opera, we crane up from the stage and fade
into the rafters to see the opera’s production
team reacting to how awful her performance is.
The transition is precise and deliberate,
and nowhere near as easy as dropping a fade
into a digital video editor today.
Now, maybe you noticed some of these technical
tricks, but they’re done well and not obvious
unless you’re paying close attention.
And that’s one of the coolest things about
good filmmaking.
But, a lot of the time, what makes our favorite
movies so memorable is just a well-told story.
And, if you think about it, Citizen Kane doesn’t
really have a mind-blowing plot.
It’s a straightforward tale about a powerful,
wealthy newspaper tycoon and his shortcomings,
and the dialogue is all pretty crisp and generic.
You get a newsreel summary of Kane’s life
at the beginning, but it’s mostly told through
flashbacks, and they’re part of what make
the film feel so true to life.
And even though it’s easy to link Charles
Foster Kane with William Randolph Hearst,
this archetype of a driven, powerful jerk
who just wants people to love him is pretty
relatable to a lot of us — even Welles himself.
So you might see things you like and hate
about yourself in Kane, or Susan Alexander’s
naive optimism, or Jedediah Leland and his
disillusionment with a friend.
Honestly, the fact that it’s his childhood
sled isn’t the most profound or surprising
twist out there, it’s not like there are
hidden identities or “I see dead people.”
But, you have to admit, the film goes all-in
on the idea of lost childhood.
Kane drowns his feelings in material objects
and tries to live vicariously through Susan
Alexander’s youth, telling her, “we’re
going to be a great opera star.”
Or maybe you agree with the film critic Pauline
Kael that the sled is just kinda gimmicky.
But critics, including her, don’t call Citizen
Kane “great” because it makes you realize
profound things about life, the universe,
and everything.
Every scene isn’t a masterpiece, but the
film holds up over time and people seem to
get a lot out of it — historically, technically,
or narratively.
And, like I mentioned before, the whole idea
of “the best film of all time” is ultimately
kind of… silly.
It’s more about understanding why and how
we make movies that mean so much to us, or
to the world.
And that’s pretty beautiful in itself.
Next time, we’ll take a hard left turn into
an action/adventure/horror film that’s almost
as quotable as Casablanca, James Cameron’s
Aliens.
And if you want to watch along with us,
there's a full list of movies in the description!
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