‘Et tu, Brute?’ 

The question of betrayal is indicative of any relationship gone sour. Especially between that of a loyal supporter and harsh totalitarian. The interesting story is in the nature of the betrayal. Author Robert Kaplaw captured the relationship of admiration and disappointment between two people, one an overbearing egotist in Orson Welles, the other a young teenage actor in Richard Samuels, in Me and Orson Welles.

One year before War of the Worlds premiered on radio, Welles produced and directed Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar in the Mercury Theatre in New York. A photo was taken of Welles with fifteen-year-old Richard during the production, giving Kaplaw the inspiration to imagine the world behind that photograph. Kaplaw surrounds his characters with questions of morals, the true nature of “the business;” a multitude of bullshit, and sex. 

Richard Linklater bravely entered a world he had never travelled to before. He had been to high school in 1976, Vienna, Paris, and even a baseball dugout with misfit kids, but never had Linklater produced such magic as travelling back in time to 1937. Linklater, teamed with a successful costume designer, set designer, and director of photographer, beautifully tells the story of Me and Orson Welles on screen with an impeccable cast of diverse talent and a beautifully recreated Mercury Theatre. The adapted screenplay displays a witty tongue and immersing tone for the film, but nothing is more immersing than the mimic of Orson Welles done by British stage actor Christian McKay.

From the first entrance of egotism (a personal ride in an ambulance because, according to Welles, there is no law saying you need to be sick to ride in an ambulance) to the last cockeyed comment asking “How am I going to top this?” to a standing ovation after opening Julius Caesar, McKay embodies Welles mind, body, and soul. McKay even claims he was “unbearable to work with” when the cameras started rolling. 

To be the ‘me’ of Me and Orson Welles would be a dream of any individual in the late 30s. Welles was a manufacturer of life in the business, who could just as easily take it away. Zac Efron’s debut as a actor outside of the Family Channel, although courageous, was stunted and unconvincing. A little disappointing, considering this could have been his big break into “real” acting. An educational experience, nonetheless, being next to phenomenal actor Ben Chaplin, playing George Coulouris of the Mercury Theatre company. 

The era of budding Broadway is a fitting backdrop to tell the story of Richard’s breakthrough into acting. A business that is displayed through Claire Danes’s character Sonja “spelt with a j but pronounced with a y” Jones. She builds up young Richard’s expectations only to ditch his heart in the middle of the New York streets by sleeping with Welles to get ahead in the business. Sonja mentors Richard about respecting Welles through dedication and servitude, warning the only way to stay in the business is not to have a personality. The criticism Me and Orson Welles has on the business is subtle yet accurate. Richard’s “in” into acting comes simply from crossing the street in New York and getting involved with a crowd outside of an unnamed theatre. Trying anything to get ahead, being a yes-man, knowing who’s boss, are staples of show business. 

Just as fast as Richard got the job as Lucilius, the loyal servant of Brutus (played, of course, by Welles), it is squashed. Welles banishes Richard from work as an actor after Richard defends the honour of his lover, Sonja. After firing Richard, Welles re-hires him to get his perfect opening night. Welles demonstrates his power over “the little people” by brandishing Richard around like a rag doll, discarding him as fast as Sonja. The only emotionally convincing scene from Efron comes after he learns he is being fired from a cowardly Welles, who refuses to tell Richard himself after the opening night curtain falls. Efron displays a powerful reaction of betrayal from a person he grew close to and admired. He was passed down the line, cut and stabbed, only to finish with Brutus, who shows no sympathy or vulnerability when he stabs Richard and leaves him without a hope of survival.