Citizen Mundane

This is not a case of The Emperor’s New Clothes. What I mean to say is that Citizen Kane is a good movie--artistically speaking, a great movie. To anyone with a strong knowledge of the history and craft of filmmaking, perhaps it could understandably be the greatest movie ever made or released. But to an Average Joe like me (and you, if I may assume that someone reads this), it is not a masterpiece. It left me feeling unresolved, questioning, curious. These are not bad feelings to have after a movie (and I have reason to believe they are exactly the feelings Orson Welles wished to evoke in audiences), but they are not the feelings left in the wake of the best movies. The best movies leave viewers feeling inspired--they show examples of heroism, exciting and empowering. Citizen Kane does not show us heroism. It shows us snippets of the life story of a very warped, very rich man--a man warped by his riches. We see glimpses of people who knew the man, but we don’t see much to admire.
The film’s strongest proponents, no doubt, would point to its open-endedness as one of its great assets. What is the significance of this or that object, they might ask. Anyone can guess at the million meanings of every scene, every line, every camera angle; the film's enduring strength, then, lies in the amount of thought it provokes. Indeed, Citizen Kane is a puzzle, if I may borrow a symbol from the movie itself, a puzzle purposely left unfinished. Discussions could abound after a group viewing, and many would sound like high-school literature class, with various expositions on the meaning of a chair or the symbolism of someone's hat. Such celluloid enigmas can lead to entertaining and worthwhile late-night discussions in the living room. Lack of resolution, then, is not Kane's chief weakness, and actually lends it much of its luster. Its true problem is the decided lack of a compelling message. For the sake of those who have not seen Citizen Kane, I will not state this message here (assuming, of course, that some constituent of this blog’s questionably-existent audience has not seen it). This omission is not a problem, though, because the final lines and scenes of the film broadcast the message quite loud and clear.

The point is, this message is the culmination of the film, the main idea which all of Welles’ technical and artistic effort has strained (quite successfully) to convey. Unfortunately, the message is nothing extraordinary. It’s the sort of conclusion that one might arrive at after fifteen minutes of quiet contemplation on a summer evening. More than anything else, it is an observation, and a prosaic one at that. It’s as if someone were to pour a mountain of money into an extensive advertising campaign in order to broadcast to the world the slogan “When I stub my toe, sometimes the nail gets broken.” Few would deny it. It would not set off philosophical debates about the nature of podiatric injuries and pain perception. But many would (I hope) wonder a simple question: Why not say something deeper?
Citizen Kane is for cinema what Charlie Parker is for jazz music--justly-admired for technical mastery, somewhat lacking in a worthwhile message, and nearly-worshipped by aficionados, a reverence which has seeped into the culture at large.