Son of Kane

Let’s lay to rest the persistent rumour that CITIZEN KANE re-uses footage from SON OF KONG. (We won’t even bother with Charles Higham’s claim that it re-uses SETS.)

I was hoping to do what I did with Steve the News on the March octopus and locate the actual source for the footage, but after much consideration I’m finally decided that there’s no mystery to solve and the scene in question is all original footage — I’m not 100% sure, but let me talk you through my thinking and we’ll see who agrees.

The topic was first discussed on this site here, with Dan North intrepidly searching for the mythic stock shot after I mentioned it, not at that point questioning its veracity.

The scene, as you may remember, is Kane’s everglades “picnic” for his “singer” wife Susan Alexander. Shot opens on a real singer, who drifts from close-up away into the scene, revealed as an elaborate camp-site in the glades — the first of a brace of dismal swampy picnics in Welles’ work: see LADY FROM SHANGHAI for No. 2 (“It was no more a picnic than he was a man.”)

Flapping creature just above the centre of the frame…

We pick up sinister manservant Paul Stewart as he drifts past through the well-lubricated revelers — several black shapes flit past in the murk of night — we move in on the Kane tent, and dissolve to a blazing row between the Charles Foster Kanes.

As far as I can see, the allegation that this sequence incorporates SON OF KONG footage is entirely down to the black flying things. They’re clearly not real — what they are is cel animation, “on twos” — photographed two frames at a time, which makes them seem rather jerky compared to the live action foreground: like stretching out 12 frames per second to 24. I’m indebted to William Randall William Cook, for the technical analysis throughout this piece. Randy is no stranger to animation… or confusion.

Blow-Up: a KANE bird (centre) photographed off the new BluRay in close-up.

Now, SON OF KONG famously relies on stop motion miniatures rather than cel animation, but at the top of this post you can see some black silhouette birds which do appear in it. They appear to be rotoscoped — matte outlines taken from real birds in real footage. Whoever inserted them into the film (I guess optical wiz Linwood Dunn) apparently couldn’t be bothered pasting in the bird footage, and just left the dark shapes — maybe because the effect was more atmospheric. Skull Island, home of the black gulls.

So there’s a stylistic connection between KONG and KANE, but bear in mind these birds are NOT produced by the exact same technique. The KONG birds are “on ones” and they’re rotoscoped off of real gulls, whereas the KANE birds are simply animated, and using half as many images per second.

Also, the glass-painted jungles of both films are by Mario Larrinaga, so a the style is understandably similar. But SON OF KONG contains no nocturnal jungle scenes, and we can’t suppose there were deleted scenes that KANE might have pilfered, because SON OF was a very quickly-produced rip-off sequel. If there was anything left on the cutting room floor, it wouldn’t be expensively produced special effects shots, it’d be Robert Armstrong yackin’.

The low-flying beasties are the only example of cel animation discernible in KANE, so the assumptions have been (1) they’re not specially shot, they must be from elsewhere (2) they’re kind of distracting, they must be something Welles was forced to accept for budgetary reasons (3) they’re pterodactyls from SON OF KONG. I suspect SON gets nominated rather than the better-known KING because it’s easier to imagine some bit of unfamiliar footage existing in that comparatively little-seen film.

Randy is convinced that the animated flappers are storks, or similar exotic birds and therefore an intended addition to the scene. I wondered if the birds had been added in order to transform an African backdrop into a Floridian one. But lets look at — and think about — that background.

Or indeed, those backgrounds. Randy points out that what we’re seeing is specially-shot KANE foreground action (that’s Paul Stewart, after all) in front of TWO rear-projection screens, separated by a big tent. The second screen is really big, probably the one Fay Wray cowered in front of in KING KONG, so the screen may be from the 1933 ape epic even if the images projected on it aren’t.

Now, we can clearly see that the projected images are matte paintings, except for the animated birds and the rippling water. What we can also see is that they contain tents — decorative tents matching the ones in the live-action foreground, and certainly suggestive of a party rather than a jungle expedition. So dismiss any idea that this is material patched in from a TARZAN movie. Wrong studio, anyway.

Randy is certain the paintings are the work of Mario Larrinaga, employed elsewhere on KANE’s numerous mattes, and also responsible for most of Skull Island’s rotting foliage. So the feeling that the backgrounds are reminiscent of KONG is grounded in truth — like most myths.

So, given that the foreground is pure KANE-Welles-Toland footage, and the tents match, and the whole scene strongly suggests a very specific milieu, a rich man’s party in the Everglades, and even the animated birds fit that hypothesis, the only way to incorporate SON OF KONG material into this scene would be to propose that matte paintings of jungle scenes from a KONG picture had been overpainted with tents in order to compliment this sequence. So there’s no possible question of KANE recycling stock footage from KONG, at most we’re talking about the partial re-use of overpainted mattes… and that doesn’t strike me as any more plausible than the suggestion that they’re original mattes, unless somebody can identify the shots in KONG JNR that those trees are in, which so far nobody has.

All this examination seems triggered by the weirdness of the animated birds (the sole remaining mystery: who actually animated them? remember, they’re cel animation and not Willis H. O’Brien’s beloved stop-motion miniatures) and fueled by the suspicion that this scene is somehow too elaborate, that it must contain a shortcut somewhere…

This shot is a cutaway interpolated into the tent argument.

But the following scene with the Kanes in a tent is so simple and cramped, the sprawling exterior footage is quite necessary to make the sequence feel like it’s a real outing (albeit a 1941 studio picture’s version of an outing). And as every magician knows, one way to fool the audience is to put so much work into a trick that the audience dismisses the most obvious explanation (“Well, he can’t have memorized the position of every card in the deck!”). And Welles was a magician.

That’s what it comes down to, all this painstaking rumination and nerdiness — a single critical insight, that Welles was quite capable of staging an elaborate master shot involving a crowd of extras, two rear-projected matte paintings, one incorporating live action water and the other with animated birds — just as scene-setting.

Blind Tuesday: As Farrar as the Eye Can See

Extraordinary! No sooner have I watched one obscure blind-person-in-jeopardy movie starring a BLACK NARCISSUS alumnus (Kathleen Byron in MADNESS OF THE HEART) than another comes along (David Farrar in NIGHT WITHOUT STARS) And they’re practically the same movie!

Novelettish title: check (the night is without stars because he’s BLIND, geddit?). Southern French setting: check . Miracle cure around halfway: check. Insanely jealous incestuous relative: check. But this movie, directed by Anthony Pelissier, is quite a bit more compelling and less cheesy than Charles Bennet’s potboiler, even if nobody in it’s as compelling as la Byron.

Jumble up the first film as if in a dream, and you have the second film. Winston Grahame (MARNIE) scripts, from his own novel. Farrar is a veteran who lost most of his vision in the war. Holidaying in France, he falls for a girl, Alex, widow of a resistance fighter, but suddenly she has a hostile fiance. Farrar gets to demonstrate impressive sang froid while dealing with this Gallic lout –

“Go on, go on, before I keek you downstairz!”

“I don’t think there’s much danger of that, do you?”

“I zuppose you seenk your blindness protectz you?”

“On the contrary, I should have thought it’d make it easier for you.”

Suave.

But then, a panicked phone call — in French, which DF doesn’t speak — from Alex, inviting her over to the guy’s apartment on an urgent matter. He comes. Nobody seems to be there. As he prowls around, cinematographer Guy Green (GREAT EXPECTATIONS) lights him with a follow spot, emphasizing his isolation — the light beams onto whatever Farrar touches, making us feel the limitations of his senses. As he moves about the deserted apartment, finding a smashed vase and strewn flowers, an abandoned piece of jewelry, a gun… a loud ticking sound builds, oppressively…

Of course it’s Farrar’s giant alarm clock from THE SMALL BACK ROOM, tockative companion to the more famous giant whisky bottle. Has to be. In the insane Wikipedia article of my mind, Farrar had it in his contract that both items had to accompany him on every set, in case he wanted to time himself having a big drink. Or no, maybe the alarm clock sort of STALKED him, like the one that stalks Captain Hook in Peter Pan from inside a crocodile. Or maybe the sound just sort of imbued itself into Farrar’s cinematic presence. Sound men would protest when he was cast, because they knew they could record him in conditions of absolute silence and yet still on the tape, at the end of the day, would be heard that phantasmal tick-tock… That’s why there’s so much John Barry music in BEAT GIRL, it’s to drown out the beating of that infernal clock!!!

THE SMALL BACK ROOM.

Ahem. A nasty moment follows when Farrar sits on the bed and the fiance’s corpse slumps over on him. He flees, waits for police reports, but nothing. Then he discovers that the cafe where he used to dine with Alex has vanished, or rather it has a different name and a different proprietor. Alex herself has vanished. WHAT is going on?

Anthony Pelissier, who directed THE ROCKING HORSE WINNER, had an occasional tendency to stylistic verve (the climactic “rocking” scenes of that film are visually WILD), tamped down by the time and place he was working in. I suspect if he’d been able to get started earlier in the forties we’d have seen some masterpieces from him, exploiting the feeling of innovation and brio in the air. As it is, this is a twisty thriller with a stiletto-hurling bad guy and a third act detective inspector deus ex machina to sort everything out. Farrar’s experience with matte-painted mountainsides comes in handy at a dicey moment, and we establish for certain that bottle bottom glasses are not a good look for him. And Nadia Gray is tres charmant (although actually Romanian, not French).

The Mysterious Mr If, Part the Heaventeenth

I apologise in advance for the litany of vileness you are about to scroll through, before hurling your computer out the window and battering yourself into blissful unconsciousness with the nearest onyx figurine.

Last we saw, diabolical Mister Man mastermind Mr If had knocked Detective Inspector Turner insensible with a cruel hammer, while Howie, the human exhibit at Edinburgh Zoo, received an unexpected missive… now read on…

INT. WAREHOUSE – DAY

Turner is awoken by a stream of urine on his face. He splutters. He’s flat on his back with a ten foot plank across his pelvis. If stands on the plank and micturates.

MR. IF

Det Insp Shinty. We meet again.

TURNER

I’m – glub – not Shinty -

MR. IF

But this time, I think it is I who have the avantage.

He pronounces this last word with an absurd French accent.

MR. IF

Scrotal sac. Can there be two lovelier words in any tongue? Your scrotal sac, my friend, has been nailed to a ten foot plank.

Indeed, two bloody nails protrude from the wood, bent round to fasten Turner’s privates securely.

MR. IF

This barn was full of facts. But I showed them. Births, deaths and marriages, the lies that pin us to our lives. Without the records, we can be born as often as we like, die continuously, and marry ourselves! Hoorah!

He throws some confetti in the air.

MR. IF

Meanwhile my grandmother clock will blow this building to crumbs in two minutes. Make good your escape and you shall have the ecstasy of seeing me unmake the puniverse just as easily.

If dismounts the plank and bounces through the door on his Space Hopper.

Turner groggily sits up. The plank slides and he has to support it by hand.

He gets up with difficulty.

INT. INFORMATION BUREAU CORRIDOR – DAY

We hear only the ticking of the grandmother clock.

Turner exits the big room and immediately encounters problems turning a corner. The beam nailed to his nutsack is too wide. Turning it diagonally with some discomfort he is able to manoeuvre it through.

Now he comes to an elevator. No good. He makes for the stairs.

INT. PUBLIC RECORDS STAIRWELL – DAY

Tick tock.

There’s enough height to allow him to point the plank down the steps in front of him, but progress is slow and halted frequently by agonizing bangs to either end of the plank.

INT. LOBBY, PUBLIC INFORMATION BUREAU – DAY

Tick tock, tick tock.

Daring to hope, Turner hauls his encumbered scrotum into the main entrance hall.

Shit. The revolving doors.

It is immediately clear that no amount of manoeuvring can fit a ten foot plank through a set of revolving doors.

We very clearly see Turner mouth the words “For God’s sake – no!” Aiming the plank like a battering ram, Turner charges.

A colossal SMASHING of glass.

Tick.

INT. WAREHOUSE – DAY

The grandmother clock’s big hand touches the little hand.

Tock.

EXT. PROF. WAZZOO’S OFFICE, ZOO – DAY

The yellow envelope, torn, blows away. Howie is reading the letter it contained.

WAZZOO

What does it say?

Howie shakes his head, perplexed. He hands the note to Professor Wazzoo.

Howie feels a tap on the shoulder and turns to see Sheena, alive and well.

They embrace.

Wazzoo looks at the note. Just one word is written on it:

WAZZOO

“Boom.”

And there is a distant explosion.

EXT. PUBLIC INFORMATION BUREAU – DAY

True Crime watches as Turner’s coat, torn and smouldering, flutters to the ground at his feet. The bureau is no more. He shakes his head sadly and walks off.

True Crime staggers through the smoke, bumping into the big crucifix. One arm is broken off and the upper part is ablaze, Klan-style.

Banana-crat lies at the foot of the cross, his banana costume smoke-blackened, one bit of wood still attached to his wrist.

BUREAUCRAT

Oh, I’m gonna be sore later.

The Iffies emerge from the smoke.

POSH SCHOOLBOY

Truly this banana is the son of God.

They fall on the Banana-crat and begin kicking the shit out of him. True Crime leaves them to it.

Turner, charred and lacerated, emerges from the smoke. One end of his groin plank is broken off, the other is on fire. He is covered with broken glass. He blinks at True Crime.

Turner’s POV: two True Crimes. One of them is played by the Sheena actress, one by a not-too-convincing look-alike.

TRUE CRIME

(in stereo)

Areare youyou alrightright?

AUDIO BOOK ACTRESS (O.S.)

“His eyes burned, twin meteors of desire.”

INT. MISS HING’S LIVING ROOM- NIGHT

Miss Hing is listening to am audio book in front of the fire.

AUDIO BOOK ACTRESS (O.S.)

“No, sir!” I protested, slapping away his reptilian paw. His loins surged like an exotic fruit. “Yield to me, you little fool!” he snarled, his nostrils flowering in an animal’s triumph. “No, sir,” I cried, pummelling his manly thorax with my tiny fists. A rib cracked but he bellowed with mirth like some mighty mountain cat. “I want you!” he roared, “and you shall be mine tonight!” I gasped, “No, sir!” and slapped his moustache. It came off on my hand.

There is a knock at the door. Miss Hing turns off her audio book and hobbles off to the hall. A cry of alarm.

MR. IF (OS)

Greetings, Miss Hing! I am Rex Runcie, matinee idol!

If strides into the living room, carrying Miss Hing in his arms. He wears a Valentino Sheik outfit with top hat.

MR. IF

After sixty years of indolence, love has come your way, my sweet. Prepare your torso for ecstasy.

Hooking open a cupboard door with his foot, he hangs Miss Hing from a coat hook, shoves an apple in her mouth and slams the door again.

Removing the audio book cassette from the stereo he inserts a tape marked “Partee Hitz.” Effete English jazz crackles out.

If’s Ballerinas enter and methodically ransack the room as If sits by the fire and lights a pipe.

INT. CUPBOARD, MISS HING’S FLAT – NIGHT

Miss Hing struggles to free herself from the coat hook she is suspended from, and to get the apple out of her gob. Prising at her jaws with both hands, she finally expels the fruit. It falls to the floor, upper and lower dentures embedded in it.

MISS HING

Help, poleesh, murder!

INT. MISS HING’S LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

The Ballerinas, having mostly exhausted their search, are now simply trashing the place. One spray-paints a big nob above the fireplace while another does a shit on the rug.

MISS HING (OS)

Help, ho! Poleesh, ambulansh, help!

Belatedly If springs to his feet, pipe clenched.

MR. IF

What’s that? A lady of the night in peril stroke distress? Have at you!

He fires a revolver at the cupboard.

MISS HING (OS)

Oh! I am shlain!

A ballerina holds aloft the If file, discovered behind a ripped-up skirting board.

MR. IF

Well done, Tonto. Success! A dirty horse crashing backwards through the frosted windows of the possible.Missionaccomplished – back to the shadows!

EXT. SHEENA’S FLAT – DAY

Miss Hing is stretchered from the premises, PC Thrower in attendance.

MISS HING

…and then he shot me right in the cupboard.

THROWER

The hound. Rest easy, Miss…

MISS HING

Hing.

THROWER

Miss Hing. I shall not rest until this miscreant is brought to heel.

Miss Hing is ambulanced away.

THROWER

The curtain is falling on the second act. I must be about my business.

To Be Continued…