Chicago Reader

Thursday, October 18, 2007

"The Most Beautiful Six Minutes in the History of Cinema"

Posted by Jonathan Rosenbaum on Thu, Oct 18, 2007 at 11:58 PM


Thanks to Reader webmaster Whet Moser, here's a scene from Welles's Don Quixote, preceded by a few comments from me from an upcoming interview, "Unseen Orson Welles." As I mention in the last chapter of my book, contrary to the claim of some Italian critics that this sequence is derived from the attack on several windmills in Part 1, Chapter 8 of the Cervantes novel, I think it can be traced more plausibly back to Quixote's attack on a puppet theater in Part 2, Chapter 26--although, as with other scenes in Welles's film, it's a very free adaptation. Meanwhile, the Australian film critic Adrian Martin has kindly sent me a short text (pasted below this sequence) by the Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben, a provocative reading of both this scene and the novel. (I've just recalled that the girl in the film is named Dulcie, supporting Agamben's assumption about her identity.)

"Unseen Orson Welles: a conversation with Jonathan Rosenbaum" airs on CANTV, Channel 19, on Sunday, October 21, at 5 PM and then again on Monday, October 22, at noon. The interviewer is Mara Tapp. Update: The entire interview is available here.


The Most Beautiful Six Minutes in the History of Cinema

Sancho Panza enters the cinema of a provincial town. He is looking for Don Quixote and finds him sitting apart, staring at the screen. The auditorium is almost full, the upper circle--a kind of gallery--is packed with screaming children. After a few futile attempts to reach Don Quixote, Sancho sits down in the stalls, next to a little girl (Dulcinea?) who offers him a lollipop. The show has begun, it is a costume movie, armed knights traverse the screen, suddenly a woman appears who is in danger. Don Quixote jumps up, draws his sword out of the scabbard, makes a spring at the screen and his blows begin to tear the fabric. The woman and the knights can still be seen, but the black rupture, made by Don Quixote's sword, is getting wider, it inexorably destroys the images. In the end there is nothing left of the screen, one can only see the wooden structure it was attached to. The audience is leaving the hall in disgust, but the children in the upper circle do not stop screaming encouragements at Don Quixote. Only the little girl in the stalls looks at him reprovingly.

What shall we do with our fantasies? Love them, believe them--to the point where we have to deface, to destroy them (that is perhaps the meaning of the films of Orson Welles). But when they prove in the end to be empty and unfulfilled, when they show the void from which they were made, then it is time to pay the price for their truth, to understand that Dulcinea--whom we saved--cannot love us. --Giorgio Agamben, Profanations

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Good scene. Reminds me of Les Carabiniers; the relationship to the screen is different, but in both scenes the man sees something beautiful and ends up destroying it. Also, interesting reading of the scene by Agamben. Did you have a different reading of your own? If so, I'd be interested in hearing it. Well, reading it.

Posted by Nathan on October 19, 2007 at 11:46 AM | Report this comment
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That really is one of the most beautiful pieces of film I have ever seen. Thank you for posting it. I once tried to watch a very dupey videotape of the Franco "version" of Quixote, but I couldn't do it. I felt like I was helping to hurt Orson Welles just by watching it in this bastardized edit and on shitty VHS. It's still a sad comment on our film culture that the only way material like this is available to the public is over the internet or in dubious bootleg videos. Meanwhile, there's no escaping crap like Ben Stiller's horrific "remake" of HEARTBREAK KID as it's playing on every street corner. What can be done for all the film that is currently lost, rotting away in film vaults? I read somehwere that another company is pillaging Eisenstein's Mexican Footage once again to give us "The Definitive Que Viva Mexico" Can't all this footage, like this Quixote fragment, be archived in it's existing state? (like what Jay Leyda did with Eisenstein's Mexican rushes at MoMA)

Posted by Danny Onions on October 19, 2007 at 12:32 PM | Report this comment
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To Nathan: Yes, I do have a reading of my own, and one that I won't try to paraphrase here. Read my book--especially pages 229-231 and 304-305.

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 19, 2007 at 12:37 PM | Report this comment
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Isn't the clip only 5 minutes long - not 6 minutes? Is there an additional minute missing from the sequence? Also, just curious, who has labeled it "The Most Beautiful Six Minutes in the History of Cinema"? I see that you have it in quotes.

Posted by Adam on October 19, 2007 at 2:12 PM | Report this comment
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The clip is virtually complete--the very start and very end have been trimmed slightly for some strange reason (though not in the version to be shown on cable TV). I haven't timed it precisely. The title is that of Giorgio Agamben's short essay, so he's the one to blame.

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 19, 2007 at 2:17 PM | Report this comment
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No reason for blame, in my opinion.

Posted by Adam on October 19, 2007 at 2:23 PM | Report this comment
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Jonathan, are there any completed versions of Don Quixote that you consider worthwhile? The 1957 Russian version looks like it might be interesting.

Posted by Alef on October 20, 2007 at 6:31 PM | Report this comment
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That one, by Kozintsev, IS pretty interesting--I saw it in Valencia a few years back. But I haven't yet seen any of the others in complete form

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 20, 2007 at 7:44 PM | Report this comment
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Jesus, Jonathan. It's lovely--could be considered a short film all on its own. Makes me want to look back and check the lineage of every film ever made that featured a man confronting a film screen (Keaton? Dante? Allen? Tomatore? Chionglo? Mario O'Hara did it without a film screen, I submit)

Posted by Noel Vera on October 20, 2007 at 9:11 PM | Report this comment
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To me this clip seems incomplete. Where are the cutaways to the film screen? We are only provided the reaction shots of Quijote, Sancho and "Dulcinea," which are rather unsatisfying. Could it be that the missing minute or so of footage is that which depicts the damsel-in-distress scenario on screen? Curious.

Posted by Joe on October 22, 2007 at 1:44 AM | Report this comment
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There's nothing missing here. The lengthy delaying of a reverse angle, defying the usual editing convention, is one of Welles' boldest moves, and is a central part of the unconventional architecture of this sequence, which asks us to use our imaginations (as Welles so often does). The various telegraphed emotional responses of Sancho and Dulcie to what they're watching, inspired by the mime of silent slapstick, are the main bill of fare here. They'd lose much of their meaning and impact if Welles had felt obliged to spell out the details of what eventually and very obviously proves to be a routine and unexceptional sequence in the routine film they're watching. As in Jacques Tati's Parade, it's the audience responses that are really spectacular, not the supposed spectacle.

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 22, 2007 at 9:44 AM | Report this comment
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It's an interesting sequence and I can appreciate the sentiment behind it, but I think it's fairly ridiculous to call it the most beautiful six minutes in the history of cinema. I mean, it's all subjective, but that's saying a lot. It's a pretty good sequence, but Welles himself even shot more beautiful material.

Posted by Arlo J. Wiley on October 23, 2007 at 5:05 AM | Report this comment
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whoever titled this 'the most beautiful six minutes in the history of cinema' is a pseudo-intellectual moron.

Posted by Arthur J Merlins on October 23, 2007 at 9:10 AM | Report this comment
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"Pseudo-Intellectual?" You can always spot a real pseudo-intellect by how they toss around words like that. The sequence is certainly intriguing, and it would be great to see more of it. It's a real shame that so much of his work has been lost to time.

Posted by Todd on October 23, 2007 at 12:37 PM | Report this comment
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Arthur J Merlins you are the pseudo-intellectual moron. Thank about jerk

Posted by BJ Bear on October 23, 2007 at 12:41 PM | Report this comment
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Noel Vera--I always enjoy your comments, but would you please list the films in which you mentioned people playing against a film screen because I'd love to see them.

Posted by Reader on October 23, 2007 at 1:18 PM | Report this comment
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Wow this is a real gem! I wish I could see it on film and not with crappy YouTube compression. -And leave it to IMDb to post the link to this article the day AFTER the TV show airs. But I really like this scene; I agree with Noel, it could be a short by itself. Now you'll have to forgive me, but I am a child of the 80s, and I couldn't help noticing the resemblance to the opening scene of Terry Gilliam's "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen". (Which I think is interesting since Gilliam himself just recently tried his hand at a 'Quixote' flick.) But I was wondering if maybe, contradictory to what Mr. Martin observes, that this scene (like the scene in 'Munchausen') is really about a fictional character subverting OUR unjust interpretation of his world, or his image for that matter. In 'Munchausen' the Baron is appalled at the inadequate theatrical production of his adventures. Climbing up on stage, he disrupts the show by yelling at the players, insisting that "It's all wrong", and then proceeds to correct the storytelling. I know in this scene (above) Quixote is dietetically confusing the movie for real life and attacking the villains as he would any other threat in his world, which makes for a wonderful joke (especially when he stops to swoon at the pretty lady, and then begins fighting again when the film cuts back to the battle). -But I think there is something more poetic that Welles was trying to depict by having a fictional character rip down a movie screen alight with other fictional characters (and, yes, I saw the quick clip of Jesus in there -but I'll allow you to make your own deductions about that). I think he intends to make us sad by showing us this great hero, who used to be the gallant star of children’s bedtime fantasies, censured by a little girl for basically not being ‘hip’ or 'with it'. The other children cheer and applaud; perhaps because they are seeing their gallant hero back in action once again, perhaps they are just being kids and are enjoying the show of destruction. The adults, who came to the movies to indulge in fantasy, leave the theatre completely -despite having a REAL LIFE fictional hero on stage right in front of them! I think Welles is trying to tell us that in these modern times we haven’t the patients for fantasy unless it’s spoon-fed to us with images, sound, and special effects. I think he’s saying that movies are partly to blame for the death of the bedtime story. And, like a robot that finally has the realization that he is not only a robot, but an obsolete one at that, Quixote, embodying the verbally told story, takes one last fighting stand and declares "NO! I will NOT be replaced by a mere bed sheet with pictures on it!” But the declaration is futile, the theatre is empty, no one cares except for one child out of a hundred –and that’s just not enough to keep a fictional hero alive. And I can tell you first hand, as a child of the 80s, I am not at all familiar with the story of Don Quixote. –I was waiting for the movie to come out.

Posted by Ben on October 23, 2007 at 2:02 PM | Report this comment
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What a fascinating scene.

Posted by Alex on October 23, 2007 at 3:52 PM | Report this comment
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Pretty lame, Milhouse...

Posted by Tom on October 23, 2007 at 4:48 PM | Report this comment
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Patty McCormack from The Bad Seed...as I am sure we all know.

Posted by Sara on October 23, 2007 at 5:23 PM | Report this comment
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Well, there's 9 minutes of my life I'll never get back...

Posted by Chamilet on October 23, 2007 at 5:44 PM | Report this comment
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Very interesting piece of film. Lovely stuff. However, I think you really do it a disservice by labelling it with the "Most Beautiful" superlative. Let's be real. It isn't the MOST beautiful 6 minutes of cinema history. It just isn't. For most of it, it is just people sitting in a movie theater while a fat guy does Chaplin-esque gags with a stick candy and fake tears. I don't mean to be critical of it and probably would have nothing but positive things to say about it if you hadn't thrown such a silly title on the clip. How about "A really fascinating 6 minutes of cinema"? May not have as many haters in the comment section. just a thought.

Posted by jerry on October 23, 2007 at 6:51 PM | Report this comment
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Your quarrel is with Giorgio Agamben, not with me. Are you suggesting that I should have censored the title to his beautiful piece? That title is placed in quotation marks at the head of this post, emphasizing that it was his title. But maybe you just didn't bother to read the post closely enough.

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 23, 2007 at 7:05 PM | Report this comment
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Was it my imagination, or was there a man on a cross on the screen? Was Quixote slashing away at a cricifixion scene?

Posted by Dave on October 23, 2007 at 8:26 PM | Report this comment
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The word is crucifixion. Yes.

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 23, 2007 at 8:33 PM | Report this comment
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Re: Jerry. You're the one who used the word "Chaplin-esque." In my opinion, that's a superlative.

Posted by Evan on October 23, 2007 at 9:40 PM | Report this comment
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Irrespective of your feelings about the excerpt, I can't help feeling it's a great thing to have it so widely watched and discussed after all this time.

Posted by sean h on October 23, 2007 at 10:03 PM | Report this comment
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Wonderful scene; it's a pity Welles never finished production. I do say, Sir Rosenbaum, your title is far from deserved. No six minutes of cinema trumps any other, given such a lack of context and creative authority. Please re-title.

Posted by Aaron gettler on October 23, 2007 at 10:13 PM | Report this comment
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an interesting little scene, definitely makes me wonder what the completed sequence would have been like. but if you want to see the "six most beautiful minutes in the history of cinema," i recommend any six minutes from carl th. dreyer's "the passion of joan of arc."

Posted by l. marcus williams on October 23, 2007 at 11:45 PM | Report this comment
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What the hell is SO great about the that? nothing special if you ask me.

Posted by john g on October 24, 2007 at 12:22 AM | Report this comment
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This is like finding a long lost treasure!!! The better you know the story behind this silent scene, the more beautiful you will find it - - Promise! I have been desperately waiting to see this sequence, having spent the last 18 months writing my graduation thesis in comparative literature basically on failed Don-Quixote-Adaptations (with a historiographic part about Lauritzen, Pabst, Kozintsev, Rim and Aragón), in the main part about Welles' attempt to get his version done. (Handed this paper in, no response yet) The cinema scene has a certain cult status since it was not included in the you-know-which-version, was deemed missing for many years and has NEVER been shown to a world wide audience. Thank you, Jonathan Rosenbaum, for this unprecedented and truly heroic work! From my point of view, you did the work Cervantes' narrator does: Find the fragment in some remote place, give it the right form, show it to the public.... I can't wait to read more about this in your book! How come Mauro Bonanni finally distibuted this at the Italian TV? Does he stil hold the original cut scene? Is all the rest still in Madrid, or can we hope to see Orson and Patty on the hotel veranda or in the carriage one day? Thank you so much, and nevermind the philistines!

Posted by Hendrik (Münster, Germany) on October 24, 2007 at 8:27 AM | Report this comment
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Does anyone know if that's a preexisting film being slashed, or something Welles created for the movie? I'm intrigued by this image of noble horsemen arriving on the scene to cut Jesus down from the cross.

Posted by That Fuzzy Bastard on October 24, 2007 at 8:42 AM | Report this comment
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To Hendrik: I don't know specifically why Bonanni decided several years ago to air this sequence on Italian TV, though I'm pretty sure it was Ciro Giorgini, who works for RAI, who arranged for the screening. And the only update I can offer is that he and Oja Kodar were in a legal dispute for years over the Welles footage he was holding--a dispute that was finally settled in her favor a few months ago. This means that the footage, once it's been inventoried, will eventually wind up at the either the Munich film Archives or the Filmoteca Espanola. As far as I know, most or all of the remaining McCormack footage apart from this sequence was held by both Bonanni and the Filmoteca Espanola (the latter in Barcelona, not Madrid--as I discovered to my regret when I went to Madrid to do research on "Quixote" a few years back). Most of what Madrid has is the wreckage left by Jesus Franco, most of this consisting of Welles' hack documentary miniseries made for Italian TV in the 70s, "Orson Welles in the Land of Don Quixote" (not part of the film "Don Quixote" at all, though appropriated by Franco as if it were). As of last August, when I visited Oja in Croatia, she still hadn't seen the footage and was speculating on whether it might include some things apart from Quixote footage, such as the missing material from "The Merchant of Venice".

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 24, 2007 at 10:02 AM | Report this comment
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Jonathan, Do you see any likelyhood in a new cut of Don Quixote being attempted after this legal action? Is it possible, or would numerous shorts only emerge, but no single coherent whole? Also, The Merchant of Venice footage featured in One Man Band was amazing. How much of that is known to currently exist, and how much did Welles actually shoot?

Posted by RayG on October 24, 2007 at 10:16 AM | Report this comment
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Jonathan, I think the main reason some people are under the mistaken belief that "The Most Beautiful Six Minutes . . ." is your own declaration and not Agamben's is just because of the formatting of the text on this page. The title 'The Most Beautiful Six Minutes . . .' (unquoted) is positioned just a millimeter below the clip image, much closer to it than to Agamben's text; hence, it appears to be your title for the clip, not Agamben's title for his text. Just thought I'd point that out.

Posted by Adam on October 24, 2007 at 10:53 AM | Report this comment
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To RayG: Most of your questions are answered in my book.

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 24, 2007 at 11:08 AM | Report this comment
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THIS SCENE IS BETTER THAN ALL OF FRANCOS EDIT. AFTER YEARS OF WAITING I WAS THRILLED TO FINALLY SEE THIS.WHILE WELLES (LIKE GODARD)IS ONE OF THE MASTERS OF AUDIO CINEMA SEEING A PURELY VISUAL PRESENTATION IS AMAZINGLY POWERFUL.THANK YOU JONATHAN.

Posted by MIKE K on October 24, 2007 at 9:51 PM | Report this comment
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I'll been meaning to read your book, and will make that a priority. I have another question and I hope it's not too far off topic. What do you make, assuming you have seen some of it, of Hitchock's Kaleidoscope footage. I've seen pieces in a documentary on him, and supposedly about an hour of silent footage exists but I've found little written about it. Would you consider it a similar situation to many unreleased and unfinished Welles films and do you feel it could be an important addition to Hitchcock's filmography? It just seems so odd to me that so little importance is placed on these fragments from such important directors.

Posted by RayG on October 26, 2007 at 10:22 PM | Report this comment
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To RayG: Sorry, but I know nothing whatsoever about this footage. This is the first I've heard about it. But considering how much and how often Hitchcock could make the films he wanted to, unlike Welles, I don't think the comparison you're suggesting is very apt.

Posted by Jonathan R. on October 26, 2007 at 10:43 PM | Report this comment
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To the gentleman who found the absence of reverse shots to the screen wrong, I agree with Jonathan, its a bold move and a great structuring principle for this sequence, I think. If we had the sound it would either make the absence of reverse shots less striking or MORE striking. When I think of how it could be more striking than it already is I think of the Chinese Theatre sequence in LADY FROM SHANGHAI. Thanks Jonathan for the chance to see it.

Posted by Andy Rector on November 3, 2007 at 2:06 AM | Report this comment
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Hi, Reader--sorry for the delayed response. The films I'm thinking of that match the names are as follows: Keaton--Sherlock, Jr.; Dante--Gremlins; Allen--Purple Rose of Cairo (my favorite Allen, I suppose); Tomatore--Cinema Paradiso; Chionglo--Lagarista (The Film Biker, 2000) Mario O'Hara--Babae sa Bubungang Lata (Woman on a Tin Roof, 1998). Approve the title to the post; it's a provocative statement and meant as such by both Jonathan and Agamben. Just funny that so many people rose to the bait.

Posted by Noel Vera on November 13, 2007 at 2:17 AM | Report this comment
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Beautiful sequence. Thank you, Jonothan. I'm sorry to take the conversation away fron Don Quixote to The Other Side of the Wind, but a friend of mine is working with Oja Kodar's nephew editing the work print of this later film in Los Angeles and I was wondering if the negative for this film is in the Munich archive.

Posted by Dale Wittig on November 16, 2007 at 11:23 AM | Report this comment
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Sorry, but I don't know the answer to that. My impression is that it isn't, but I could be wrong.

Posted by Jonathan R. on November 16, 2007 at 3:22 PM | Report this comment
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Thanks for making this fascinating sequence available. I've noticed that several of the links to your long reviews crash whenever I try to open them (specifically I'm Not There, Pedro Costa and India Matri Bhumi). It's very frustrating; can anything be done to fix these links?

Posted by Jim Gerow on November 30, 2007 at 9:06 AM | Report this comment
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This is really very nice pair and one of the best scene in the history of cinema.However the comments also are very nice. Thanks all of you widecircles

Posted by john on July 30, 2008 at 12:30 AM | Report this comment

After reading Agamben, is it true that adults have lost their ability to imagine? They have lost their own fantasies, and rely on the images depicted on the screen to create what they have lost. The children, still very much in touch with their imagination (before loving them, believing them to the point where we have to deface, to destroy them) have created their acts of play by entering the fantasy of Don Quixote, who is "saving" the damsel in distress.
The adult audience is disgusted with the destruction because he has ruined the film, and their fantasies. The children are playing, an act that Agamben says is something that is pure. Yet Dulcilena, a child, does not become involved in the cheering and shouting of the other children, yet she does not leave with the adults. Who is she? Is she the Genius of Don Quixote? Is the genius that we must let go of the same as the girl that cannot love us?

Posted by meadky on December 13, 2009 at 7:59 PM | Report this comment

It is unfortunate that Well's could not focus his talents on producing a truly great film with a truly original message. I believe he sincerely wanted to do this but the closest he came was Citizen Kane. The film was a criticism of the values of contemporary society, but what does criticism alone really accomplish? This same emptiness is evident in Don Quixote. I don't think Wells ever found anything more substantial then that.

Posted by Rleon on January 3, 2010 at 12:55 AM | Report this comment

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