Me, having issues
As there isn't a German release date for the film Me and Orson Welles yet, I caved and bought the book by Robert Kaplow. Which is an amusing coming of age story, captures the spirit of the era very well, manages to bring a theatre production to life for the reader... and yet had me grumbling about something major. Either I developed double standards for historical fiction that is close enough to present day so that there are still some participants alife, or fanfiction has influenced my reading habits. Or both. I mean, I didn't use to object on the basis of "he took out a canon character and replaced him with his Gary Stu and totally rewrote the relationship!", did I?
Me and Orson Welles takes place during one week in 1937, during which a production of Julius Caesar premiered which promptly became, as much produced by Orson Welles was bound to, legendary. Our hero and narrator, one Richard Samuel, 17 years old, stumbles across the Mercury theatre, ends up getting the role of Lucius, Brutus' servant, on short notice, and finishes the week getting fired after the premiere. Now, the production obviously happened, and most of the characters in the novel existed. Richard, however, is invented, and inserted instead of the young actor who did play Lucius in real life. Is it a case of simply changing a characters name because the real Lucius, Arthur Anderson, is still alive? No. Arthur and Richard and their respective relationships to Orson Welles are pretty much diametrically opposites. Arthur had known Orson Welles for quite some time before Caesar; he first worked with him on radio when Arthur was 13 in the previous year, in two productions. Richard, on the other hand, only meets Welles at the start of that fateful week, and he's 17 (to Welles' 22) at that point. (This by itself sets up a very different dynamic. A 13, then 14 years old relates to a 21 and 22 years old as a child to an adult. The five years between 17 and a 22 years old, on the other hand, are much closer, and make sex with the same woman as well as arguments which the novel positions far more plausible then it would have been if Kaplow had kept him 14 as well.) Richard, after disgustedly concluding Orson Welles is talented but a complete bastard, gets fired and decides to take up writing instead. Arthur does not only finish the Caesar run but keeps working with Welles on radio (among other things, Welles cast him as Jim Hawkins in the Mercury's radio production of Treasure Island; I give you three guesses who played Long John Silver, and the first two don't count), keeps being an actor, and reunited with Welles many years later when Welles played Lear.
(If you're interested, Arthur Anderson wrote a rather touching article about his memories of Orson Welles which is reprinted here.)
This leads to the fictional Richard concluding: I keep thinking about that with Welles - that it's talent only. That the only thing he as is talent - that all other human virtues: generosity, decency, loyalty - whatever - are missing.
While real-life Arthur declares right at the start: Whatever truth there may be in descriptions of George Orson Welles as self-absorbed, autocratic, skittish, undependable and unreasonable, it is also true that he showed only kindness to me. and ends his story with Orson-as-King-Lear in more than one way:
I snagged a job as an extra, as I wanted the satisfaction of working with him once more.
Orson sat on the edge of the stage in a ballroom where we were rehearsing. I approached him and said, “Hello, Orson. Do you remember me?”
“Please help me,” he said. “I’m so tired.”
“Arthur Anderson. I was your Lucius in Julius Caesar.”
“Of course, dear boy. How good to see you.”
When I reported for the next rehearsal, I had been upgraded to the role of First Knight, and given lines taken away from another actor, who I am sure cordially hated my guts.
Sidenote here: I find it amusing that the fictional Richard is called "Junior" by Welles, which is the plausible American thing for Welles at 22 to do, whereas real Arthur gets an Edwardian epitaph like "dear boy" (Welles, growing up as he did mostly surrounded by adults and getting imprinted in his theatrical debut and education at 16 by Hilton Edwards and Micheal MacLiammoir, would come up with such mannerisms).
Now, given that Me and Orson Welles is, like I said, a coming of age story, I can see why the positive relationship between Arthur Anderson and Orson Welles just wouldn't do for Kaplow. Welles as an alluring talented monster who first fascinates and then is confronted and overcome makes for a far more powerful rite of passage. I see the dramatic reason for the invention. But it bothers me, nonetheless. Given that I'm on board with books, films and tv shows which fictionalize history to a far greater degree (some cases in point: A Man for All Seasons, which edits out all of Thomas More's darker sides, the tv two parter about Elizabeth I. starring Helen Mirren, which comes up with such complete inventions as letting her be present when Leicester dies, Wilde with Oscar W. played by Stephen Fry, which edits out Oscar's less than stellar behaviour) if the result is entertaining and does capture something of the time and people it wants to depict, why is it this particular switch that irks? I guess it must be because Anderson is still around, and now either is assumed to have had a bad relationship with a man he liked and respected, or isn't known about at all while a fictional character is. Or maybe it really is the influence of fanfiction. Either way. I'm still looking forward to the film version, but expect to argue with it in my head at the same time.
Me and Orson Welles takes place during one week in 1937, during which a production of Julius Caesar premiered which promptly became, as much produced by Orson Welles was bound to, legendary. Our hero and narrator, one Richard Samuel, 17 years old, stumbles across the Mercury theatre, ends up getting the role of Lucius, Brutus' servant, on short notice, and finishes the week getting fired after the premiere. Now, the production obviously happened, and most of the characters in the novel existed. Richard, however, is invented, and inserted instead of the young actor who did play Lucius in real life. Is it a case of simply changing a characters name because the real Lucius, Arthur Anderson, is still alive? No. Arthur and Richard and their respective relationships to Orson Welles are pretty much diametrically opposites. Arthur had known Orson Welles for quite some time before Caesar; he first worked with him on radio when Arthur was 13 in the previous year, in two productions. Richard, on the other hand, only meets Welles at the start of that fateful week, and he's 17 (to Welles' 22) at that point. (This by itself sets up a very different dynamic. A 13, then 14 years old relates to a 21 and 22 years old as a child to an adult. The five years between 17 and a 22 years old, on the other hand, are much closer, and make sex with the same woman as well as arguments which the novel positions far more plausible then it would have been if Kaplow had kept him 14 as well.) Richard, after disgustedly concluding Orson Welles is talented but a complete bastard, gets fired and decides to take up writing instead. Arthur does not only finish the Caesar run but keeps working with Welles on radio (among other things, Welles cast him as Jim Hawkins in the Mercury's radio production of Treasure Island; I give you three guesses who played Long John Silver, and the first two don't count), keeps being an actor, and reunited with Welles many years later when Welles played Lear.
(If you're interested, Arthur Anderson wrote a rather touching article about his memories of Orson Welles which is reprinted here.)
This leads to the fictional Richard concluding: I keep thinking about that with Welles - that it's talent only. That the only thing he as is talent - that all other human virtues: generosity, decency, loyalty - whatever - are missing.
While real-life Arthur declares right at the start: Whatever truth there may be in descriptions of George Orson Welles as self-absorbed, autocratic, skittish, undependable and unreasonable, it is also true that he showed only kindness to me. and ends his story with Orson-as-King-Lear in more than one way:
I snagged a job as an extra, as I wanted the satisfaction of working with him once more.
Orson sat on the edge of the stage in a ballroom where we were rehearsing. I approached him and said, “Hello, Orson. Do you remember me?”
“Please help me,” he said. “I’m so tired.”
“Arthur Anderson. I was your Lucius in Julius Caesar.”
“Of course, dear boy. How good to see you.”
When I reported for the next rehearsal, I had been upgraded to the role of First Knight, and given lines taken away from another actor, who I am sure cordially hated my guts.
Sidenote here: I find it amusing that the fictional Richard is called "Junior" by Welles, which is the plausible American thing for Welles at 22 to do, whereas real Arthur gets an Edwardian epitaph like "dear boy" (Welles, growing up as he did mostly surrounded by adults and getting imprinted in his theatrical debut and education at 16 by Hilton Edwards and Micheal MacLiammoir, would come up with such mannerisms).
Now, given that Me and Orson Welles is, like I said, a coming of age story, I can see why the positive relationship between Arthur Anderson and Orson Welles just wouldn't do for Kaplow. Welles as an alluring talented monster who first fascinates and then is confronted and overcome makes for a far more powerful rite of passage. I see the dramatic reason for the invention. But it bothers me, nonetheless. Given that I'm on board with books, films and tv shows which fictionalize history to a far greater degree (some cases in point: A Man for All Seasons, which edits out all of Thomas More's darker sides, the tv two parter about Elizabeth I. starring Helen Mirren, which comes up with such complete inventions as letting her be present when Leicester dies, Wilde with Oscar W. played by Stephen Fry, which edits out Oscar's less than stellar behaviour) if the result is entertaining and does capture something of the time and people it wants to depict, why is it this particular switch that irks? I guess it must be because Anderson is still around, and now either is assumed to have had a bad relationship with a man he liked and respected, or isn't known about at all while a fictional character is. Or maybe it really is the influence of fanfiction. Either way. I'm still looking forward to the film version, but expect to argue with it in my head at the same time.