Do-all Welles unparalleled

Perhaps no Hollywood personality of the mid 20th century better encapsulates the definitively American identity than Orson Welles. Few did so much, so well, and with such consistency.

“Citizen Kane” (1941)

Orson Welles is to “Citizen Kane” as Bill Gates is to Microsoft. He produced, directed, wrote and starred in this detailed exploration of how regular people can become perverted into obsession and mania by their own success. It was his first major cinematic work, and there’s no denying its unparalleled genius; indeed, there is scarcely a fragment of the film that does not have Welles’ fingerprints all over it. There had never been anything like it, and it seems unlikely the film industry will ever yield another masterwork anywhere near the one-man-show “Kane.” With deference to Gates, it is perhaps not technically an irony that Welles’ fictional protagonist Charles Foster Kane was himself an entrepreneur cum monopolist, who’d built a colossus (in this case, a publishing empire) with his own hands, but it nevertheless makes for compelling cinema trivia.

While it was nominated for the Best Picture Oscar alongside John Huston’s and Humphrey Bogart’s “Maltese Falcon,” neither won. But if this ever was a scandal, no one cares anymore; “Kane’s” timeless greatness eclipses any timely awards.

“The Third Man” (1949)

If “Citizen Kane” showed what Welles’ capabilities were when allowed completely unrestricted purview, this film demonstrated what his talents were worth when moderated and tempered with other masters. He plays Harry Lime, a putatively deceased counterfeiter of medicines that have left many gravely ill children in their wake. His friend Martins arrives just in time for his supposed funeral. Sifting through the underworld of postwar Vienna, pulp-fiction writer Martins (played by Joseph Cotten) slowly sleuths his way to the uneasy truth about his friend, befriending his girl, competing with local authorities to uncover all of the facts.

Welles does not appear for almost the whole first hour of the film, but when he does, it is the crowning keystone of the film’s magic. He is a perfect fit for the cheeky British style, and one particular scene — when Welles strolls down the street while a fortuitous wind blows a stray sheet of newspaper right behind him in his wake — is often cited as the definitive specimen of film-noir cinematography, even if it was pure luck.

“Touch of Evil” (1958)

Welles directed and starred as police captain Quinlan in this tale about murder and corruption along the Mexican border, but he was just one of the legends that appeared therein. In one of his first roles ever, Charlton Heston plays a Mexican policeman, which elucidates perhaps more about contemporary understanding of Mexican culture than Heston’s quality as a thespian. Marlene Dietrich plays an ex-mistress, and Janet Leigh (known best as the screaming shower victim in Hitchcock’s “Psycho”) is excellent as Heston’s American wife. Most of the other Mexican characters are little more than caricatures of the stereotypical 1950s urban hood. “Touch of Evil” has a dated feel, but it is nevertheless a brilliant work, with superb performances and some ingenious photography, including some of the longest continuous scenes then seen in popular cinema.