Citizen Kane at 85: A Masterpiece That Still Teaches

Years ago, I wrote a paper on Citizen Kane as a film student. This summer I finally saw it on the big screen at a special anniversary screening, and walked out with the same love for it and a much deeper appreciation for the craft.

Watching it now as someone who makes films for a living, Kane reads almost like a textbook written before the subject existed. Gregg Toland's deep focus keeps every corner of the frame alive. The low angles reveal ceilings that sets of the era rarely bothered to build. The time-spliced structure, pieced together through the memories of the people who knew Kane, anticipates everything from Kubrick's patience to Nolan's puzzle-box storytelling.

Then there's Orson Welles himself: in his mid-twenties, directing, co-writing, producing, and playing Charles Foster Kane from ambitious young heir to hollow old man. It's a staggering act of creative confidence, and it still reads as one.

The film's opening question is whether a single word can define a man's life. My takeaway, then and now, is that no number of words quite can, and that may be the point. If you've never seen Kane on a big screen, it's well worth the trip.