Here’s an interesting question – who else could make a film that was abducted by the studio, and edited down to the point of being nearly half the length of the original cut, and still have it be one of the most unimpeachable masterpieces of the Golden Age of Hollywood, other than Orson Welles? For the past eight decades, The Magnificent Ambersons has been subjected to a lot of discussion and debate, especially between those who try and situate it within a particular category, as well as considering its themes and narrative in contrast to the film Welles made, which are mostly starkly different, both in concept and execution. It was supposed to be Welles’ masterpiece (and many still consider this to be true, despite the production issues), but it was overshadowed by interference by the studio, who essentially stole the film from the director and recut it to reflect their own misguided principles of what audiences would be most inclined to enjoy and stands in the shadow of Citizen Kane, an equally fascinating film that has similarly ambitious ideas, but not quite on the same level of what Welles was aiming to achieve with this story. Based on the novel by Booth Tarkington, the film is a fascinating odyssey that sees the esteemed director taking an even more audacious approach to his storytelling process, crafting an intimate and disquieting tale of human resilience in an era of considerable change that leaps between characters and setpieces to create a vivid, complex portrayal of a very particular moment in American history and a film that is positively brimming with the kind of unique, intricately-plotted sincerity that propelled Welles to the status as one of the greatest filmmakers of any generation.

Simplicity has always been one of the most essential but oddly underpraised elements of a good period drama – while some may assume that the genre lends itself to excess, some of the most effective works of historical drama have been those that don’t intend to embody style over substance, but rather ones that are constructed from strong stories to the point where the entire purpose isn’t to visually arrest the viewer, but rather use images as supplements for a profoundly strong and meaningful story. Tarkington’s novel focused on providing a sprawling account of the trials and tribulations of a wealthy American family between the final decades of the 19th century, to the earliest years of the 20th century, focusing on how they adapted to the radical changes occurring around them. The Magnificent Ambersons is essentially a story about family in its various forms, and looks at themes of marriage, the relationship between family members and the challenges that come about when the older generation fails to adhere to the conventions of the modern era, refusing to partake in the immense progress, both socially and technologically, that made this such a revolutionary time in global history. These themes are all integral to The Magnificent Ambersons, which is very much intent on weaving together a compelling narrative without resorting to melodrama, presenting this layered tale that takes place over several years, reflecting the different relationships that exist within this family. It’s a radical departure from Welles’ previous work in film and on stage, in terms of being focused less on a singular point of view and more on a broader scale of ideas, but it’s in these profound differences that we find the director creating some of the most unforgettable ideas, assimilating them seamlessly into the intricate fabric of this fascinating film.

However, a good rule of thumb when it comes to directors like Welles (who embodies the very spirit of ambition), is that we should never take anything at face value, since there is always something much deeper lurking beneath the surface. If we step away from the precise plot, and instead look at The Magnificent Ambersons from a more conceptual place, it’s clear that Welles was aiming to make something that uses the theme of family as the starting point for a much broader discussion. Previously, we’ve spoken about the debate around the search for the Great American Novel, and how this has extended to the cinematic sphere, with the pursuit for a film to stand as the ultimate representative of American culture being as active as ever. The Magnificent Ambersons is often considered one of the leading contenders, especially since it essentially takes a two-pronged approach to the narrative, being both a familial drama, and an odyssey about a very distinct moment in national history. This is a film about America as filtered through the perspective of a family that goes from rags to riches, essentially experiencing the full spectrum of emotions that come with economic decline and the psychological toll such events can have on individuals, as well as the family unit as a whole. Tarkington’s novel was written in 1918, more than a decade before the Great Depression began, meaning that many of the ideas reflected in the film foreshadow the imminent economic collapse, and Welles carefully explores the social, economic and political change being experienced around this time, without feeding into the temptation to make bold allusions to the events that were logically going to follow these characters. The Magnificent Ambersons is a work that remains strictly within a particular temporal framework and depicts a family dynamic that changes alongside the culture of the country as a whole, which is a poignant approach to such an intimate story that qualifies it as one of the most powerful examples of a truly American story.

Welles employs a tremendously gifted cast to bring the story of The Magnificent Ambersons to life, many of which were plucked from his stream of players and collaborators from his work on stage. Joseph Cotten, the greatest actor who never achieved the cultural cache as a leading man that he deserves, is charismatic and compelling, and plays the part of this outsider drawn into this family beautifully, being quite possibly the only truly principled character in the entire film. Tim Holt is the inverse, playing the obnoxious and immature George, who feels entitled to command the entire family and their affairs, leading to many of the most tragic and melancholic moments in the story, in which his selfishness and myopic worldview result in a deep amount of sadness for many of the characters. Anne Baxter and Dolores Costello are also very good and play the part of the steadfast women of the Amberson clan so wonderfully. However, the most impactful performances come from Agnes Moorehead, who sets the standard for actors occupying supporting roles – she is a constant presence in the film, a welcome addition to every scene in which she appears, but someone who is rarely (if ever) in the spotlight for the first two-thirds of the film, meaning that she is essentially just on the periphery while other characters have the spotlight. Then, almost without warning, the film becomes hers – the camera swerves to only focus on her performance as she becomes the focus, delivering a passionate monologue that is one of the most profound in the history of cinema. In only a few minutes, Moorehead reconfigures the entire narrative, being the representative of all women in this period of American history, fighting an invisible battle that they cannot verbalise or risk being outcasted. It’s a beautiful performance in a film that is filled to the brim with excellent work from its actors, Welles proving to have a true gift when it comes to exploring the characters that populate his films.

While it may be questionable to consider this Welles’ masterpiece since we don’t have access to his fully-realized vision (as the omitted footage is now considered lost), it’s difficult to argue against this being a staggering achievement of its own. I am more inclined towards his later films when it comes to discussing his greatest achievements (The Trial and F for Fake being truly unforgettable works), but we can’t dismiss the work he did when he was a young, dynamic filmmaker whose ambition was yet to be refined, but where his raw talent led him to become one of the most important directors from a very young age. It’s bewildering to imagine that a film as worldly and wise as The Magnificent Ambersons was conceived and directed by a 27-year-old, regardless of how much we learn about Welles’ status as a wunderkind that was wise beyond his years. There’s just something so incredibly captivating about what the director does with this material, an enchanting quality that can’t be inauthentically produced and has to be derived from the sheer audacity to take a text as bold and sprawling as Tarkington’s original novel and translate it to the screen in a way that not only honours the source material but actively celebrates it, elevating it to the visual medium in a way that feels like it is working in dialogue with the novel, rather than just adapting it. It is a tragedy that we will likely never see The Magnificent Ambersons as Welles intended – all efforts to restore it have been met with considerable obstacles, and it is simply impossible to reconstruct something when the footage simply does not exist anymore. However, even in this butchered format, the film is a masterwork of intimate, complex humanity that reflects one of the great directorial minds of his time operating at his prime and becomes a work of incredible nuance and precise artistry, more encapsulating and thought-provoking than nearly anything else produced at the time.