Orson Welles’ seminal film Citizen Kane is widely considered to be one of the greatest films of all time, and for good reason – Welles’ uniquely Expressionistic and evocative cinematography, as well as editing and mise-en-scene, elevates an already stellar cast and incredible script to a deeply-felt character study of a man seeking immortality. One of the most intriguing sequences in the film is the scene wherein Charles Foster Kane (Welles) is inspired to create the Declaration of Principles for his newspaper; its simple, elegant yet effective visual style is indicative of the film’s look as a whole. In keeping the vast majority of the sequence confined to a single shot, Welles shows how, through simple changes in blocking, framing and lighting, he shows the world of Citizen Kane literally centered around the titular character.
The sequence’s beginning helps to demonstrates the importance of the room in which the rest of the sequence takes place, as well as Kane as a central figure within the city. The sequence begins with a wide shot of the Inquirer’s offices, slowly pushing in and fading to a medium-wide shot of one of the building’s windows. Here, Charles Foster Kane and Jedediah Leland (Joseph Cotton) rest against the window, the camera pushing in from outside. From the start, Kane stands above Leland, staring at a piece of paper he has placed on the window while Leland, sitting, looks wistfully outside. Given the camera movement as we push in on these figures from the outside of the city, the audience gets the feeling they are moving from the larger world of New York to this more intimate setting.
Yet another fade breaks the 180-degree rule, fading parallel to the other side of the window, the camera now inside the room. Kane now has his back to the camera, and the lighting is dimmer (a single gas lamp lighting the room, parallel to Kane’s head), making him seem more mysterious and opaque. From the start, Kane’s tall, standing figure draws the eye to him, along with the parallel gaze of Leland and the editor of the Inquirer, Herbert Carver (Erskine Sanford). In this transition, the tone of the rest of the scene is established – all eyes are turned to Kane, but Kane does not know what to do about his new newspaper. Kane’s distance from the camera makes him seem somewhat unapproachable, and the slightly low angle to the shot gives the scene a slightly sinister edge. Carver’s head, in extreme right foreground, dwarfs Kane, symbolizing his incredible expectations and anticipation for what Kane is to do next (as well as the audience’s, given his proximity to them). Nonetheless, Kane maintains his incredible charisma and presence as the scene continues.
While the rest of the scene happens largely through this single camera setup, a wide variety of tones and beats in the scene are effectively captured through simple changes in lighting and blocking. When Kane finally turns around, he has a smile on his face, relating in a friendly manner to Leland and Carver; this presents a much more approachable demeanor to others, and helps to solidify his youthful, naïve enthusiasm for owning a newspaper. When Kane reaches for the gaslight, turning it off to demonstrate just how important he wants to make the Inquirer to New York, the lighting dims along with it, Kane demonstrating his power not just over the lighting of the room, but over the film itself. This simple gesture also conveys both Kane’s immense ambition and the casualness with which he wants to achieve his goals.
When he comes up with the idea of a “Declaration of Principles,” Kane finally steps forward, moving to the left foreground, passing the two men and suddenly becoming the focus of the shot. The camera pans slightly left to accommodate him, moving into a composition in which Kane steps into shadow, Carver’s head is further away from the audience and more in relatable profile, and Leland is left in the background of the scene between them. Here, the dynamics of the scene have changed – Kane has a thrilling new idea, Carver is much more intrigued by Kane, and Leland sits by as a passive participant. The low angle is maintained, and Kane has stepped into shadow, forming a silhouette at this stage in the scene, perhaps foreshadowing the failure of the declaration of principles, or Kane’s future egotism and inner darkness. Regardless of the shadows, all eyes stay on Kane, and the camera maintains its focus on him, solidifying him as the center of the scene. The camera also lowers slightly to keep the Declaration in frame, being much more brightly lit than Kane himself, drawing the eye from Kane to the sheet of paper. While Carver and Leland focus on Kane, all Kane can think about is the Declaration.
When Kane says out loud his intentions for the paper, Leland chooses to assert himself, stepping out from his seated position and walking towards Kane. Here, he establishes a much more dominant role in the scene as the voice of caution; Kane stands straight up from his bent over position as Leland moves to left of frame, standing on an equal plane with him (his face lit while Kane’s is still dark). At this point in the scene, both Carver and Leland are trying to figure out Kane as a person, but Kane remains opaque, as evidenced by his remaining in shadow. As soon as Kane says that “no special interests are going to interfere with that truth” they will print in their paper, Leland sits back down, now on an equal level with Carver – they both continue to frame Kane, Leland’s question answered as Kane lifts the Declaration back up into frame with his hands.
As soon as the Declaration is done, and Kane says, “I’m going to print it,” he calls after Sauly and steps back into the light; now that his introspection is done, Kane effortlessly moves into authoritative public figure mode. Interestingly enough, as Sauly pops into the left of frame, the camera pans left to cut Carver out of this exchange – it is no longer his news paper, but Kane’s. Sauly himself is on an equal plane with Kane, though Kane is slightly taller, showing Kane’s ability to ‘lower himself’ and relate to those under his employ. Leland, meanwhile, has taken a submissive position, sitting between them with downcast eyes – he is no longer a part of this transaction. Another element of interest is the slight but significant change in mise-en-scene that this move has created. In the left foreground we can now see an unlit lantern and a champagne bottle in an ice bucket (which is creeping into frame from offscreen), both in front of Sauly. This helps to symbolize the gesture as an act of celebration, as well as solidifies this move as making the Inquirer just as important as a gaslight, the lantern being a visual callback to earlier in the scene. The lantern also serves to provide some separation of Sauly and Kane, Sauly representing the hustle and bustle of the little people given his position behind objects, Kane peering down at him authoritatively.
As soon as Sauly leaves, the camera pans back down to the previous three-shot, cutting Carver back into the picture, but maintaining his submissive position below Kane and Leland. As the three begin to get excited about the importance of the Declaration of Principles, all three alternatingly turn to each other as they speak, their shifting eyelines linking the three characters to this new move. At this point, however, the scene ends with an extremely dramatic cut from the low-angle wide shot of the three of them to a closeup of Leland, as he jokes to Kane that it is as important and seminal as his “first report card at school.” Looking slightly up and to the right of frame, Welles then does a match shot of Kane, in a similar closeup, his eyes looking down and to the left of frame, visually linking the two in an intimate exchange of dialogue as Kane smiles. As the sequence fades to a close-up of the Declaration of Principles itself, Welles equates Kane with the Principles, defining him by them in this naïve moment of idealism.
This singular moment is most intriguing given the sequence up to that point; it is the most intimate, down-to-earth and human Kane is allowed to be seen. Up to that pair of shots, the single camera is fixated upon Kane at all times; the low angle makes Kane tower over the other two men, even when one stands next to him. The mercurial, Expressionistic way Kane is shot shows the world shifting and moving around him, characters and camera angles moving and circling around him but keeping him at the center of frame. Only after Kane has effectively expressed his power and signed the Declaration does he allow himself to put his guard down and share a small, intimate moment with his best friend Leland, in which they are on equal levels of consideration. The use of cinematography and editing in this particular sequence is intriguing for the economical way it establishes this relationship.
The Declaration of Principles scene in Citizen Kane uses the microcosm of a single Expressionistic shot to demonstrate the immense power and draw of Kane’s charisma, as well as demonstrate both his intimate friendship with Leland and the possibility for Kane’s own downfall. By making simple shifts in blocking, framing and lighting, Welles allows a defining moment in Kane’s life to play out in real time, setting up the jarring contrast between Kane-as-newspaperman and Kane-as-individual. The mise-en-scene of the giant, largely empty room acts as a chamber for Kane’s thoughts and ambitions, the long shadows on the wall acting as an extension of Kane’s anxiety and power. All of these elements and more contribute to a fascinating scene in one of the most stellar films of all time.
Works Cited
Welles, Orson. Citizen Kane. RKO Pictures, 1941. Film.
