Close up on a log cabin in a fierce storm of white, blowing snow. Zoom out to show that cabin encased in a crystal globe held in the palm of someone's hand. Close up on a mouth, wiry black and white whiskers grazing the upper lip. "Rosebud," the mouth faintly whispers. Cut to the crystal globe being released by the palm, toppling down the stairs, then shattering at the end of its brief journey to the wooden floor. Orson Welles was a master at using the camera to tell a story that conveys tension, mystery, and emotion, and in no film did he do that better than in the opening scene of Citizen Kane, the 1941 masterpiece widely regarded as one of the greatest American movies ever made.

Upon its release, The New York Times said "it comes close to being the most sensational film ever made in Hollywood." Time Magazine noted, "so sharply does Citizen Kane veer from cinema cliché, it hardly seems like a movie." Nominated for nine Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director, Citizen Kane should have been the biggest blockbuster of 1941. Instead, it ended up being one of the biggest box office losers, making just over $260,000 in its first week, and even with theatrical re-releases in the 1990s and 2000s, ultimately topping out at only $1.6 million. Even Gone with the Wind, released in 1939, still managed to pull in over $12 million in 1941. Citizen Kane became one of the biggest flops of all time, especially considering the staggering praise and accolades it received. What happened? How could such a cinematic triumph crash and burn so brutally? The answer lies in one name: William Randolph Hearst.

RELATED: 10 Best Classic Mystery Movies, Ranked According to Letterboxd

Orson Welles Relished the Opportunity to Expose William Randolph Hearst

Orson Welles giving a speech in Citizen Kane
Image via RKO Radio Pictures

Orson Welles shot to fame - or as some might say, infamy - in 1938, when he adapted author H.G. Wells' 1898 science fiction novel, War of the Worlds, for a live performance on his radio series, The Mercury Theatre on the Air. The 23-year-old Welles, working with writer Howard Koch (Casablanca), presented the story about extra-terrestrials invading Earth as a series of breaking news broadcasts interrupting regular evening programming. The performance was so realistic, listeners thought an actual invasion was happening, and panicked New York and New Jersey residents took to the streets and took up arms in anticipation of the hostile Martian visitors' arrival. There were even reports of some listeners committing suicide, fearing the end of the world was truly nigh. But rather than ruin the budding career of the young maverick, that sensational radio event launched Welles into the Hollywood stratosphere. Major studios courted the visionary up-and-comer, hoping they could get him to helm some of their big budget movie projects. Screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz brought the idea of a film based on the life of publishing magnate William Randolph Hearst to Welles, and Welles was hooked.

Hearst was an exceedingly wealthy and powerful media mogul who, at the pinnacle of his success in the 1930s, owned and controlled 28 newspapers and magazines. A number of his tabloids frequently printed scandalous - and often false - stories, usually involving celebrities or well-known individuals with whom Hearst had an axe or two to grind. Like Welles, Hearst was courted by those with influence, as well as those who wanted to have influence. The Hearst Castle, his iconic retreat in San Simeon, California, was a gathering place for the Hollywood jet set. An invitation to the mansion atop the hill was like a religious experience - an ascension into society's highest echelons, a true arrival. Welles, certainly not lacking in the ego and self-aggrandizement departments himself (he once said in an interview that "everybody told me from the moment I could hear that I was absolutely marvelous"), saw in the production of Citizen Kane an opportunity to strip away the gold-plated veneer of Hearst and tell the story of a ruthless, philandering, heartless megalomaniac's rise and fall.

Welles' directing deal with RKO Radio Pictures and Mercury Productions included the stipulation that he himself play the character of Charles Foster Kane. Certainly, Welles relished the thought of embodying the persona of Hearst. And although Welles would later deny that the character of Kane's mistress Susan Alexander (played by Dorothy Comingore in the film) bore any resemblance to Kane's real-life lover, actress Marion Davies, it was no secret that Welles had deep affection and empathy for Hearst's paramour. Writing about Davies in 1975, Welles said she "was one of the most delightfully accomplished comediennes in the whole history of the screen. She would have been a star if Hearst had never happened." There is little doubt that Welles, at least in part, saw Citizen Kane as a chance to vindicate Davies and paint Hearst as a callous user who effectively ended her Hollywood career.

Orson Welles Was No Match For Hearst's Power & Influence

Just 25 years old when production began on Citizen Kane, Welles' wunderkind talents were matched only by his enormous self-assurance, but it was his youthful bravado and naïveté that would also contribute to the film's failure. Enter Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons, two of Hollywood's most influential and feared gossip columnists of the 1940s and 50s, both of whom had bylines in Hearst-owned newspapers. The two were so formidable that they could literally make or break careers with a stroke of their pens. When Parsons got wind that a movie based on Hearst was being made, she had lunch with Welles, hoping he would spill the beans on the production and give her something to take back to the boss. Welles denied to Parsons that Citizen Kane was in any way the story of Hearst, which she dutifully reported, but the tycoon wasn't buying it.

Orson Welles was either blind to Hearst's power and clout or simply couldn't conceive the lengths to which Hearst would go to thwart Welles' efforts. Even as production of the movie was in process, an enraged Hearst tried to shut it down, threatening RKO and enlisting a cadre of studio executives, including MGM head Louis B. Mayer, to purchase the film and shelve it. When those efforts failed, Hearst, who was friendly with notorious FBI director Herbert Hoover, managed to get a file opened on the young actor/director. Welles' liberal leanings were exposed, enabling Hearst to launch a relentless smear campaign, using his dozens of publications to hint that Welles might be the most feared thing in America at the time - a Communist. Hopper and Parsons were only too willing to help spread the scandalous information, and before Citizen Kane had even gotten a release date, Welles, the film's producer, director, and star, was under suspicion.

William Randolph Hearst Launched Threats, Smears, & Blackmail

Undeterred, Orson Welles persevered and completed production on Citizen Kane in October 1940. Given Hearst's interference, not to mention all the trials, tribulations, and dysfunction associated with the film, many of which are chronicled in 2020's Oscar winning Mank, it's a marvel that Welles was able to put together such a magnum opus. Unfortunately, Hearst wasn't deterred, either, and he dispatched columnist Parsons to attend a screening of the film before its release. Horrified by what she saw, Parsons threatened RKO that she would expose stories about “rape by executives, drunkenness, miscegenation and allied sports" should Citizen Kane be released.

She was even able to get the film's Radio City Music Hall premiere canceled by telling RKO studio chief George Schaefer that there would be a press blackout should he go ahead with plans to exhibit the movie. Columnist Hopper composed a less than enthusiastic review of the film, writing that "there's no sustained acting and you can't even tell whether Orson Welles is a fine motion picture actor or not." Hearst refused to let any of his newspapers run advertisements for the movie, and he put pressure on theater chains to not show the film, again holding blackmail threats and FBI investigations over their heads.

Fearing Hearst's wrath, many of them complied, despite the nearly unanimous advanced critical praise the movie was receiving. Hearst's all-out assault on the movie and on Welles himself worked. Citizen Kane's box office take was disastrous, and Welles was never able to reach the phenomenal success that had so clearly been in his grasp just one short year before. Welles went on to a prolific producing and directing career, with classics like 1942's The Magnificent Ambersons and 1958's Touch of Evil to his credit, but his reputation, so effectively sullied by Hearst, kept Welles from ever getting the true respect he deserved in the filmmaking world.

Decades Later, 'Citizen Kane' Got the Accolades it Deserved

Orson Welles as Charles Foster Kane in Citizen Kane
Image via RKO Radio Pictures

It took decades for Citizen Kane to finally be recognized as a landmark film and for Welles to receive long overdue accolades for his accomplishments. Directors like Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg frequently cite the movie as influencing their own styles, and its superlative black and white cinematography is still lauded by industry experts. The film got its most coveted recognition in 1989 when the Library of Congress chose it for preservation in the United States National Film Registry as a "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" contribution to the arts. Looking back, it's a bit disconcerting to realize the potency of Hearst's domination of the media and his ability to not just take control of the narrative, but to grab it by the throat and throttle it. What could have been one of 1941's most acclaimed and profitable cinematic achievements ended up being, thanks to Hearst's dogged pursuit of vengeance, merely a blip on that year's movie landscape.