“My Lunches with Orson: Conversations between Orson Welles and Henry Jaglom,” which arrives in stores today, is clearly one of the most-talked about Welles books in recent years.
Based on lunchtime chats recorded by Jaglom between 1983 and Welles’ death in 1985, the book presents an unvarnished, often unflattering, look at Welles. He makes snide comments about rivals (Alfred Hitchcock, Charlie Chaplin) and speaks warmly of old friends and movie favorites (Joseph Cotten, Gary Cooper). Colorful stories of his past work and enthusiasm over future projects fill the 320-page book.
There has been considerable debate over whether Welles knew he was being recording. One of Welles’ closest associates, the late Gary Graver, told American Film in 1987 and Wellesnet in 2004 that Welles found out about the taping shortly before his death and felt betrayed. Jaglom has denied that charge for more than 25 years and provided his account of the recordings to Wellesnet earlier this year.
Some Welles colleagues have told Wellesnet that the late director, who insisted on editing his criticism of others out “This Is Orson Welles,” a book he co-wrote with Peter Bogdanovich, would never have wanted a warts-and-all transcript published.
Former American Film magazine editor-in-chief Peter Biskind (“Easy Rider, Raging Bulls”) edited and wrote the introduction for “My Lunches with Orson.” He fielded questions from Wellesnet about the creation of the book.
What attracted you to these tapes?
I was interested in the tapes because I have admired Welles’ films from the time I first opened my eyes. The fact that they existed, and no one had ever listened to them – Henry Jaglom had pretty much forgotten what was on them – created an aura of mystery around them, like Shakespearean manuscripts in a trunk in someone’s attic. Welles was not Shakespeare, but he was a one of a kind, an artistic genius, and I don’t use that word very much.
How difficult was it to persuade Henry Jaglom that they should be made public?
I’ve known Henry since I first met him when I was writing “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls” in the early ’90s, and we’ve remained friends. Over the years, I asked him about the tapes, but he was busy with his films, and I was doing books back to back. I didn’t have time think about such a project. But after my Warren Beatty bio came out, I took a break. Henry liked that book, and we started talking about the tapes, what might be on them, was there enough good stuff to constitute a book, and so on. He agreed the get them transcribed, I read the transcripts, and we went from there. So no, it wasn’t hard, it was just a question of timing.
Did Henry place any restrictions on what could and could not be used?
No, he didn’t. He was very anxious to get the “real” Welles out there, even if it made Welles look bad. Most of the Welles books, even the ones that attack him, treat him like an icon. There are plenty of good interviews with him, but often they’re by starry eyed journalists to whom he is the “great director of ‘Citizen Kane’.” They are respectful to a fault, but it was a role he loved to play to the hilt, and they don’t give even a glimpse of what he was really like.
What’s different about the Welles that appears in this book is that with Henry he was relaxed, and felt free to gossip, complain, tell stories on his friends and acquaintances, and be extreme politically incorrect when he felt like it. He gives candid, often cranky assessments of filmmakers and actors he knew and those he didn’t. He reveals his human side, if you will. He does speak of his films, but he also lets his hair down and more or less expresses what he thinks, although with him you never knew, because as Henry has observed, he was a man of many masks.
How many hours of recordings exist? How was the sound quality?
I don’t really know. I guess 30 or 40 hours. Sound quality was terrible. Not only was the sound muffled because Henry kept the tape recorder in his bag since Welles insisted that he didn’t want to see it, but they were in a restaurant, so there was an excess of ambient noise. Our transcriber, Eugene Corey, deserves a medal for valor.
Some of friends of Welles maintain he did not know he was being taped. Is there evidence on the recordings that he was aware of the taping?
I’ve heard that too, and there is no evidence on the recordings that he knew he was being taped that I remember, but I think it’s a ridiculous assertion. Welles was no dummy, to say the least, and it’s very hard to imagine that he was taped surreptitiously over a three- year period without his being aware of it. That scenario defies credibility.
What conversations surprised you the most?
In general I guess I was surprised by the breadth of his knowledge and his enormous intelligence. He wanders over many, many subjects in these conversations, not only films and filmmaking, but politics, religion, as well as the other arts: classical music, theater, literature, painting, and so on. And he has informed opinions about everything. Even where his opinions are a little nutty, when challenged, he makes fascinating arguments to support them.
Its hard to single out astonishing passages, because there are so many of them. I loved a section where he speaks of his altered attitude towards Nazi collaborators after the war, when he became friendly with the British fascist Oswald Mosely over a weekend at the Oliviers country house. He eviscerates Elia Kazan and mocks Ronald Reagan in a very entertaining way, and is fascinating on Chaplin and his films, especially compared to Buster Keaton. He put a signature Wellesian spin on everything he chose to talk about, which means he was ironic, cutting, funny, and smart. There’s no other way to describe it.
After listening to all these lunchtime conversations, what was your impression of Orson Welles?
I fell in love with his mind. He could be irritating, but what a mind! And sense of humor. And wisdom.
And beyond that, these conversations, in giving us a peek into the struggles that shadowed his later years – financial issues, his failure to launch new projects, finish old ones, deal with the 800 pound gorilla in the room, which was the reputation he had for walking away from films before they were finished that prevented him from getting backing for his scripts – give the lie to the idea that he was indolent or irresponsible. He died, after all, with a typewriter on his lap, writing a script. He kept fighting to the end.
To see a talent like his, a man with his gifts, brought low by some malign combination of circumstance and personal failings is just heartbreaking. What a waste. At the same time, it was thrilling to get to know him through his words.
I feel privileged that Henry entrusted me with this project, lucky to have been able to work on a book like this one.
Peter Biskind was the editor-in-chief of American Film magazine and the executive editor of Premiere. His writing has appeared in scores of national publications, including Rolling Stone, Paris Match, the Nation, The New York Times, the Times of London, and the Los Angeles Times, as well as film journals such as Sight and Sound and Film Quarterly. He is now a contributing editor for Vanity Fair. His books include: Seeing Is Believing (1983); The Godfather Companion (1990); Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (1998); Down and Dirty Pictures (1998); Gods and Monsters(2004); and Star: How Warren Beatty Seduced America (2010). His books have been translated into more than 30 languages.
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