If one were to ask Charles Kane who he was, the only thing he’d answer consistently with confidence is “an American.” From his poor childhood to his industrious old age, that is the one of the few things about the man that never changed. What director, screenwriter and star Orson Welles might be implying here is that despite the outrageous life Kane lived, he is not as uncommon as one would think. He was an American, or better yet, a “citizen.” It is this promise that Kane ran his newspapers on as well his political campaign: despite his immense wealth, he was merely a citizen who swore to be a man of the people.
But that’s the romantic side of being an American citizen. Kane also represents the disappointing underbelly of the American dream and in effect, capitalism. Starting an ambitious industry with the Inquirer to do good by the people (even put in ink with his own “Declaration of Independence”, as Jedediah puts it), he becomes enamored with success, participating in show-tunes celebrating his name and buying countless statues with his profits in Europe. What starts out as well-meaning dream becomes a power-hungry quest to buy as much as possible, including the support of the people and the love of his dear ones. The Kane who tells Emily “The people will think what I want them to think” is a far cry from the man who wrote the Inquirer’s declaration, as is the Kane who builds Susan an opera house and her own paradise Xanadu in an attempt to buy her love. Such is the capitalist’s problem.
What does remain consistent in Kane’s life is a stubborn refusal to be wrong, an attribute ingrained in the power-hungry American capitalist. If there was anything he was afraid of, it was losing. He’d rather fake news be released about his “affair” with Susan than withdraw from his political campaign. He’d rather finish Jedediah’s scalding review of his own wife’s opera performance than succumb to his old friend’s expectations of revising it. He’d rather clap desperately and write up false headlines praising Susan’s sub-par singing performances. Kane never wanted to lose because in a capitalist system of conquest, that was humiliating.
And Kane always cared about what the people thought of him. “He wanted people to love him,” Jedediah reflected in his old age to Mr. Thompson. This was the case for matters as big as his political campaign and as domestic as his spats with Susan he feared would be overheard. Self-image was everything to Kane because, in the spirit of true American individualism, his self was all he had, ever since he was a boy, sent off from home by his parents to a unloving guardian in Walter Thatcher. What started off as a romantic story of American resilience in his youth morphed into a disturbing tale of a man confusing himself with God, twisting truth in the papers to manipulate public opinion and, as Jedediah criticized Kane after he lost the election, trying to “own the people.” So goes the story of the American robber-baron.
And the same goes for the tale of a fascist. Early in the film, the newsreel announcing Kane’s death describes some of his wrong decisions, i.e supporting Adolf Hitler and predicting there would be no war in Europe. How could a man who was so idealistic to write the Inquirer’s declaration side with such a tyrant? It’s only natural in the life-cycle of the American capitalist, according to Welles. On his own venture into politics, Kane is preaching to hundreds in front of a poster bearing his face, swearing to do right by the people. The scenes bears resemblance to a Nazi rally, as lofty ideals are touted, hiding a shadowy ego that truly wants to control the masses underneath it all.
The beginning and end of Kane’s life presents a before-and-after contrast that demonstrates how destructive the American life can be. Though his childhood is contained in a small house amidst a brutal winter, he is happy, playing with his sled. When he dies, Kane is alone in a house, filled to the brim with material goods. As Mr. Thompson walks through the halls with the butler, the camera dollies out to a long shot revealing just how much Kane had acquired through the years. But it is a hollow achievement, as Kane, on his deathbed, clings desperately to his happiest childhood memory, contained in a snow-globe. With his last breath, he calls desperately for better times when he was happy and innocent. Despite his capitalist conquests and his materialist endeavors, Kane died an unhappy man.
In this sense, Kane was an American citizen who bought into the dream, but never woke up from it. Believing a set of principles that he eventually abandoned in his later years (quite literally when he rips up the original declaration Jedediah sends him), maintaining a stubborn individualism that refused to be wrong, and holding a hollow materialism that left his life unfulfilling, Citizen Kane is truly an American story.
The CineMan Twist 