Hidden Flick: Money, Love & Strange Pt. 1
Lassie’s face was perfect for close-ups, according to Orson Welles. Somehow, as I listen to Trey Anastasio call out to the old pup on David Bowie from Providence, Rhode Island on December 29, 1994, that makes a lot of sense. Lassie got his close-up, alright, before Phish slammed the hook home and then whipped out a beaut duo of Halley’s Comet>Lizards for shaggy dog-storied measure. Alas, Phish did indeed get their due—ahhh…the Jammys—but did Lassie? Of course, she did. She is flealessly hailed as a Screen Canine Legend. Welles? Citizen Kane, yes. Everything else? Maybe not.
The Orson Welles vintage has been woefully underappreciated for far too long. To many cinenewbs, the artistic bottle was dusty and so was the liquor. Then again…the man didn’t make it easy on himself, burning through cash like a dreamer on a weekend bender in Atlantic City. He never had complete creative control over his projects after Citizen Kane—a film he made when he was 25, and the equivalent of hitting 80 home runs as a rookie. He would either lose final cut, or the celluloid would languish in a vault somewhere, growing a third chin, a gray beard, and earning a poisonous critical rep, OR—the mightiest cut of all—he’d make a masterpiece [insert several titles here] and some studio clown would slice the thing into unwatchable oblivion—dubio blackholeish. READ ON for more…