Memory, Metaphor and Time: Volume 3
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Q.T. had dropped dime on Double Indemnity (1944), the first film noir to coin the "flashback" as a storytelling motif—opening with a confession from a dying man and moving back in time to flesh out the story before joining narrative in the present. Tarantino tired of linear tale-telling and twisted temporal lines in a theft that the art world would dub homage. His neo-noir revitalization with Pulp Fiction (1994) was scrambled with a purpose, tumbling timeline and traditional theme alike—noir embodied generally dismal, pessimistic, cynical perceptions while "the Fiction" usurped this disposition with dark comedy and tales of redemption. If the film had moved in a straight path, the episodic impact of each redemption story would have been diminished.

It was another auteur, no stranger to noir cinema himself, whose time tinkering would even pre-date Indemnity with a multi-textured mystery that was at once a political commentary, a psychological dissection, and a philosophical meditation. This film would pave the trail for the use of time tinkering as metaphor itself rather than mere technique. A full three years before Indemnity, his story's temporal toying rivaled that of H.G. Wells, even inadvertently involving a pterodactyl. I suppose the latter may have been caused by a wormhole of some sort—as if this case wasn't weird enough when it just involved contract killers, samurai femme fatales, and cynical anti-heroes.

Actually, it had been a Welles by another name that had used the deconstructed construct for his cinematic masterpiece Citizen Kane. The pterodactyl-producing wormhole is featured in the opening newsreel depiction of Kane's San Simeon style castle Xanadu on the fictitious desert coast of Florida (hint: there is no desert coast of Florida), which was shown by re-using footage from an RKO prehistoric adventure that featured the dinosaur. Unlike the symbolically political content of the noir genre, Orson Welles’ target was very real—his comment critical and the controversy that followed almost overwhelming. Citizen Kane was a scathing indictment not only of media mogul William Randolph Hearst, the Rupert Murdoch / Ted Turner of his day but also of competitor Henry Luce and the exploitative, sensationalist world of journalism at the time. If only Welles had lived to see the OJ debacle, Inside Edition, and the concentration of media outlets into seven corporate conglomerates—imagine what he might have produced (not to mention Jurassic Park).

The newsreels that open the film are a blow at Luce, a parody of the March of Time reels that were popular in the day. The always-concealed interviewing journalist Thompson (William Alland) acts as a comment on Luce's faceless, anonymous group journalism—a phenomenon that is credited with the decline of modern investigative reporting. It was Hearst, however, who was the primary aim for Kane. A man who once ironically commented on why his amassed empire did not extend to film—"you can crush a man with journalism"—spent over a decade trying to blackmail, buy, bribe, bury, and smear a movie from existence (even initiating FBI investigations at one point). Today, Murdoch and the rest of the seven dwarves recognize the significance of cinema.

In addition to its role as parody, the opening reel acts as a blueprint of the events. The film skips through tracing the memories of those closest to Kane (Orson Welles) in search of the significance of his last words, "Rosebud." Citizen Kane reconstructs its protagonist's life through the recollection of those around him, demonstrating through its story variations and characterizations the complexities of Kane. It reveals a multi-layered psychology of its subject through the perceptions of those who knew him best. Jed Leland as Joseph Cotten, the hero's best friend; Susan Alexander (Dorothy Comingore) the aspiring, yet talent-less opera singer who Kane is driven to make a star; Mr. Bernstein (Everett Sloane), Kane's business manager—each recollect different facets of the man. From each of the emotionally tainted memories, perceptions, and legendary visions the film constructs a complete image of the man.

As the film attests, the personal story of the man is also a story of the historical period—from penny press to radio's birth to the rise of celebrity journalism (think, Walter Winchell); from Hearst's alleged "you provide the pictures, I'll provide the war" involvement in the Spanish-American conflict to the rise of fascism. Its final symbolism actually creates a circular comment on Welles’ social criticisms. "Rosebud" is revealed as significant not only to the individual—an iconic image of his personal childhood and lost innocence—but also to society: the power and wealth of his empire has come at the expense of his humanity.

Citizen Kane also touches on the philosophical notions of memory and time—the construct of the narrative is not only to frame the metaphor, but also to act as a metaphor itself. For Kane, this metaphor reflects how, in death, we are nothing but the recollections of others. In a manner, the film deals with phenomenological time—memory as connected by emotional experience rather than linear structure.

Temporally twisted tale telling took twin trails toward modern times. The "flashback" used in Double Indemnity became a standard noir motif, later evolving into unique neo-noir storytelling techniques; Citizen Kane, on the other hand, set precedent for using a disordered sequence to act as a metaphor itself.


Be sure to check out parts one and two of this series—and come back on August 25 for Josh’s final installment.

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