#quebediently yours

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

This film was a veiled biography of one of the four facets of the American spirit: the tycoon: the powerful lord, the smiler with a knife under the capitalist cloak, the new baron with a right of first flower over thought, rapist of all virgin ideas, champion of right-wing causes and imperialism. The man who boasted of having started a war in order to have his reporters write about it (precisely the war between Spain and the United States, which continued our own), a tireless worker and the boss of bosses: William Randolph Hearst, Homo americanus. To his make and likeness all the rest were cut (Morgan, Rockefeller, Mellon) and all wanted to escalate him: he seemed the Everest of success. Welles, nevertheless, with the pinprick of a movie, had deflated him. The same vigour with which Hearst’s standard-bearers protested (Louella Parsons, for one) showed that he had hit the bull’s-eye: the colossus was a weak man, his shield was the shell of an oyster, a museum armour: inside there was nothing but emptiness. That was the life of the all-powerful man turned to dust and ashes and silence.

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]

[georgeawesomewelles]