"I'll pay a thousand dollars to anyone who can explain the story to me."- Harry Cohn*, head of Columbia Pictures, on THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI.
In Frank Brady's fine biography of the celebrated actor/director/writer/producer, *CITIZEN WELLES, we discover that Harry Cohn was in such awe of Orson Welles' talent and was so desperate to make a movie with him, that he nearly gave Welles full autonomy: the aforementioned writing, directing, producing, and starring acting role. But Cohn did withhold one very important element which many if not most filmmakers seek: the final decision on editing.
More than a year after THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI was in the can waiting for release Cohn railed against the director for cost overruns, for what Cohn felt was an incoherent mess of a movie, and, most vehemently, for tampering with Rita Hayworth's image (Welles cut and dyed blond Rita's dark tresses). It was a tough shoot for Orson: constant delays, script changes, killer Mexican heat, plus one added burden: the breakup of his marriage to the film's female star. Ultimately,Cohn dumped the film as a second feature where it bombed financially.
The film itself? With its theme of pervasive corruption threatening a stalwart if highly unaware protagonist, LADY is an uneven prototype for Welles' fully realized noir masterwork, TOUCH OF EVIL (1958). Both films share a nightmare quality; there is constant dislocation and disorientation in each work. Both films take on an atmosphere of cramped delirium, magnified by crude allusions and nefarious deeds which slip in and out of the deep physical and psychological shadows. And both films exhibit murder as an almost preordained fate. Again, LADY's major flaw is a rambling story structure, underscored by poor editing (Cohn and a studio editor pieced the film together!).
But there are great performances, with Everett Sloan's Arthur Bannister throwing his nasty Kane-like weight around, albeit on crutches, and especially Glenn Anders' sweaty, quietly obscene malefactor, Grisby, a fascinatingly distasteful cretin who sets the skin to crawling. Orson labors hard in his role of Michael O'Hara. I found his cartoon brogue entertaining. But while the accent may be overdone, wouldn't it be in a nightmare?
In Frank Brady's fine biography of the celebrated actor/director/writer/producer, *CITIZEN WELLES, we discover that Harry Cohn was in such awe of Orson Welles' talent and was so desperate to make a movie with him, that he nearly gave Welles full autonomy: the aforementioned writing, directing, producing, and starring acting role. But Cohn did withhold one very important element which many if not most filmmakers seek: the final decision on editing.
More than a year after THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI was in the can waiting for release Cohn railed against the director for cost overruns, for what Cohn felt was an incoherent mess of a movie, and, most vehemently, for tampering with Rita Hayworth's image (Welles cut and dyed blond Rita's dark tresses). It was a tough shoot for Orson: constant delays, script changes, killer Mexican heat, plus one added burden: the breakup of his marriage to the film's female star. Ultimately,Cohn dumped the film as a second feature where it bombed financially.
The film itself? With its theme of pervasive corruption threatening a stalwart if highly unaware protagonist, LADY is an uneven prototype for Welles' fully realized noir masterwork, TOUCH OF EVIL (1958). Both films share a nightmare quality; there is constant dislocation and disorientation in each work. Both films take on an atmosphere of cramped delirium, magnified by crude allusions and nefarious deeds which slip in and out of the deep physical and psychological shadows. And both films exhibit murder as an almost preordained fate. Again, LADY's major flaw is a rambling story structure, underscored by poor editing (Cohn and a studio editor pieced the film together!).
But there are great performances, with Everett Sloan's Arthur Bannister throwing his nasty Kane-like weight around, albeit on crutches, and especially Glenn Anders' sweaty, quietly obscene malefactor, Grisby, a fascinatingly distasteful cretin who sets the skin to crawling. Orson labors hard in his role of Michael O'Hara. I found his cartoon brogue entertaining. But while the accent may be overdone, wouldn't it be in a nightmare?