Oeuvre is an in-depth examination of the entire body of work of an important director.
Linklater can’t do nothing right, can he? First a faithful adaptation of a Philip K. Dick novel and now a movie about Orson Welles directing a play? Doesn’t he know how movies work? Is this an elaborate love letter to RKO 281? Why isn’t Zac Efron playing Orson Welles? I see you’re as confused as I am. Grab my hand and we’ll make sense of this together.
Me and Orson Welles, a novel by Robert Kaplow, is a coming of age tale about a 17 year old named Richard Samuels in 1937 New York City who weasels his way into the Mercury Theatre to act as a minor player in Welles’ production of Julius Caesar. We’re captivated as we watch Welles in action and Richard’s life-changing experience tugs at our heartstrings or something. We close the book, take a deep breath, and remember how it feels to be young again. It was the greatest summer of our lives.
Me and Orson Welles, the film by Richard Linklater, is a movie about Welles’ staging of Julius Caesar — less Me and more Orson Welles. It’s a hybrid of a middlebrow indie prestige production and — thanks to the presence of Efron — one of those movies a teen idol signs on for on the basis of “If I act in this movie people will start taking me seriously.” I don’t know if people bought it, but I’d watch him in other things.
The final product could have been disastrous, with too much time devoted to Efron when what we really want is Welles doing stuff. Linklater dispels this concern by only letting Richard figure into scenes when it feels natural, as he could easily muddle what’s obviously trying to be a character study of Welles. Linklater pays lip service to the idea of Richard as our point of identification, giving us a couple scenes of him at home, a few of his personal life to drive forward a semblance of plot outside of “We need to stage this play because it’s an important moment in the history of fine arts.” Still, it’s easy to picture high school theatre teachers across North America showing Me and Orson Welles to their students.
Welles is where it’s at. Linklater isn’t afraid of portraying the man as a charismatic dick whose insensitive treatment of others is earned by his wealth of talent in everything but interpersonal relations. He acts! He directs! You can do impressions of him! Tell us all you can about this man who convinced America that aliens were invading. Christian McKay does a great impression of Welles and also has to act while doing so, making for a highly entertaining performance that, as you’d expect, overshadows Efron.
In classic Linklater fashion, there’s a lot of hanging out going on in the film. Linklater gets slice of life and knows how to make two people talking in a room or someone directing a play as riveting as a fistfight on top of a train. My favorite touch is Richard’s occasional meetings with a fellow young creative type trying to make it in NYC — a young woman who writes stories loosely based on her life, as young writers are often wont to do — that give the story a surprising modern flavor. Instead of hanging out in a record store and talking about Animal Collective, they hang out in a record store and talk about jazz. You see, kids back then were just like us now.
Though film climaxes with the beautifully shot premiere of Julius Caesar, Me and Orson Welles doesn’t have very much resolution, which is perfect for a film that’s a brief snapshot of Welles’ life and a coming of age story. Linklater, the voice of Gen X slackerdom, knows that nobody’s story ends in their twenties, so he doesn’t close the book on Richard as much as leave it open for us to wonder what happens after. It was the greatest 107-minute summer of our lives. You can let go of my hand now.
by Danny Djeljosevic
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