The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)

Orson Welles’ film The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) is the shadow of an amazing movie. You can see it underneath the changes the meddling studio made to it. Even in the later half of the film, when the waltzing flow becomes tonally unstable, the film’s magnificence still shines through.

I love The Magnificent Ambersons, both as the film it is and the hopelessly tantalizing idea of what it could’ve been. For me, the first hour of the film surpasses Citizen Kane (1941) with it’s emotional connection. Kane remains a distant character and the film practically encyclopedic, but the Ambersons are real. They’re tragic, lonely, funny and deserving of empathy.

Starring: Tim Holt, Dolores Costello & Joseph Cotten

Welles directs the beginning of the film with a sly self-awareness and a jolliness that invests the audience in the trifling tragedy of the fading Amberson family. There’s a grandeur to the production design and the camera work that underlines the ironic magnificence of the titular family. And everything in the film until George and Isabell goes away is perfect. Its artistry astounds me even on my third viewing this year.

However, the last third of the film is the most troublesome. It’s editing choppy, the scenes feel unevenly directed (because they were) but there is still much to love. In particular, the tragedy of George Minifur is carried out to a brilliant conclusion and the quiet downfall of the family still retains much power. However, it’s Eugene that gets the raw end of the deal in the end. His character falls off the edge of the film and only reappears to play the part the studio needed him to for an inappropriately tacked-on happy ending.

But I can look past all of the film’s oddities created by its troublesome post-production process. The film is haunted by the idea of its completion, its potential perfection. What would it have been like if the original footage hadn’t been lost, if Welles had retained creative control to the end? The shadow movie beneath the real one is what makes it greater, more mythic than it might've otherwise been. Whether it’s the real Magnificent Ambersons or the ghost of an idealized one, Welles’ directorial bravura is so strong throughout that it’s hard not to love it, warts and all.