{"id":33803,"date":"2016-05-06T07:01:50","date_gmt":"2016-05-06T12:01:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/?p=33803"},"modified":"2017-05-07T18:16:06","modified_gmt":"2017-05-07T23:16:06","slug":"welles-at-101-kane-at-75-or-thereabouts","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/2016\/05\/06\/welles-at-101-kane-at-75-or-thereabouts\/","title":{"rendered":"Welles at 101, KANE at 75 or thereabouts"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Welles<\/a><\/p>\n

DB here:<\/p>\n

Kristin and I are\u00a0one-third through our New York stay, and blogging has suffered. There have been talks to give, old friends to visit, new friends to meet, and movies and exhibitions to see. And there\u2019ll be more activities of these sorts to come. But I can\u2019t let 6 May pass without some acknowledgment of Orson Welles.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s partly because I just finished a draft of the Welles section of my 40s Hollywood manuscript. (Yeah, that beast was another distraction from blogging. All 158,000 rough-hewn words of it are now dispatched to some unwary\u00a0readers.) So Welles was on my mind already when the anniversary of the “official” \u00a0Citizen Kane<\/em> release came up on 1 May.<\/p>\n

Actually, by\u00a0the time Kane<\/em> had that roadshow release, it had been widely seen by the Hollywood community. In the face of the Hearst press’s attacks, RKO head George Schaefer held invitational screenings in early 1941 to build up support for the film. Variety<\/em> estimated that by late March 1,200 producers, directors, writers, actors, and agents\u00a0had seen the picture. The number was so big that RKO dispensed with\u00a0a splashy Hollywood opening. (The article title is pure Variety<\/em>ese: “So Many Cuffo Gloms at ‘Kane’ It Kayoes Idea of a $5.50 Preem,” Variety<\/em>, 2 April 1941, 2, 20.) As a result, I think, Kane<\/em>‘s influence began to be registered some months before its New York premiere, as the look of The Maltese Falcon<\/em> (shot June and July of 1941) might suggest.<\/p>\n

What I offer today, on the Boy Wonder’s birthday, is a consideration of that movie from an unusual angle looking not just at its\u00a0originality but also at its shrewd consolidation of a variety of techniques.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Wellesapoppin\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"Kane<\/a><\/p>\n

We\u2019re so used to considering Kane<\/em> powerfully original that it\u2019s worth remembering that it synthesizes a lot of traditions. I\u2019m not thinking of Pauline Kael\u2019s claim that it\u2019s a culmination of the 1930s newspaper genre; as so often, she fails to persuade me. I\u2019m thinking instead of the look and sound of the movie, as well as its storytelling strategies.<\/p>\n

Depth staging and deep-focus cinematography are two techniques not always kept distinct in critical discussion. 1930s Jean Renoir films have plenty of depth staging but usually not so much deep focus. Citizen Kane<\/em> won attention partly because it has plenty of both, and in exaggerated form. The figures often stretch very far back, someone or something is often rather close to the camera, and often all of them are sharply focused.<\/p>\n

\"Contract<\/a><\/p>\n

Without taking anything away from the boldness of Welles and cinematographer Gregg Toland, we should recognize that they reworked visual patterns\u2014what I\u2019ll call schemas<\/em>\u2014that were already circulating in filmmaking. Framings with big foregrounds, distant planes, and low angles weren\u2019t unknown in silent films (Opium<\/em>, 1919; Greed<\/em>, 1925; A Woman of Affairs<\/em>, 1928) and some early talkies (No Other Woman<\/em>, 1933).<\/p>\n

\"Opium<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"Greed-deep-space-227h-\"<\/a><\/div>\n
\u00a0\"Woman-of-Affairs-depth-300\"<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"No<\/a><\/div>\n

There was a sort of fad for such deep staging, especially with wide-angle lenses, during the late 1930s, though all the planes weren’t usually kept in focus. Some directors, such as John Ford (here<\/a> and here<\/a>) and William Wyler<\/a>, favored\u00a0deep images, while art director William Cameron Menzies\u00a0(see\u00a0here<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0here<\/a>)\u00a0made them part of his artistic signature. Below: Ford’s Long Voyage Home<\/em> (1940), shot by Toland, and Menzies’ Our Town<\/em> (1940), directed by Sam Wood.<\/p>\n

\"Long<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"Our<\/a><\/p>\n

It\u2019s now acknowledged that many of Kane<\/em>\u2019s deepest shots weren\u2019t actually made in the camera, but by means of special effects, particularly matte shots. Interestingly, this too wasn\u2019t utterly original; compare the composite shot from Kane<\/em> with the one from Mr. Moto\u2019s Gamble<\/em> (1935), which has an even more aggressive foreground.<\/p>\n

\"Kane<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"gamble-1-3001\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Welles and Toland called attention to these techniques by a radical gesture: many of these deep shots are long takes from a fixed camera position. Most filmmakers who used these depth\u00a0schemas inserted them into passages of orthodox scene dissection. The depth shots might establish a locale, or they might be inserted into a series of analytical cuts, or they might be part of a shot\/ reverse shot pattern. But in Kane<\/em> you\u2019re forced to notice the Baroque plunge of space because the lengthy take rubs your nose in the flashy composition.<\/p>\n

\"Contract<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"Contract<\/a><\/p>\n

\"Contract<\/a><\/p>\n

It\u2019s clear that Kane<\/em> crystallized a certain look that was picked up by John Huston, Anthony Mann<\/a> with or without his DP John Alton, and many other directors.\u00a0The Welles\/Toland version of depth consolidated a visual style that dominated American black-and-white filmmaking into the 1960s. Typically, though, filmmakers didn\u2019t rely on the fixed long take as much as Welles did in Kane<\/em>. Even Welles gave up that option in favor of dynamic editing of deep-focus shots, as in\u00a0The Lady from Shanghai<\/em> (1948) and Othello<\/em> (1952\/1955).<\/p>\n

Not everything is long takes and depth. The pictorial variety of the film is, I think, unprecedented. The “News on the March” sequence becomes a virtuoso exercise in all the techniques that the rest of the film won’t be using. For perhaps the first time in history, Welles artificially distresses his staged scenes to make them match archival footage. He adds scratches and light flares.<\/p>\n

\"Train<\/a><\/p>\n

This newsreel is so film-savvy that it can build in jump cuts and fast-motion as guarantors of fake authenticity. One passage mimics \u00a0two-camera reportage, allowing us to imagine paparazzi crouched and perched at a fence to grab clandestine shots of an elderly Kane.<\/p>\n

\"Fence<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"High<\/a><\/p>\n

Here the schemas that are borrowed come from archival and documentary traditions, repurposed to add realism to this fictional biography. Welles, as we’ve seen in the Great Ambersons Poster Mystery (here<\/a> and here<\/a> and here<\/em>), was a smart-alec cinephile: your disobedient servant.<\/p>\n

What about sound? Back in 1994, Rick Altman wrote a pioneering article showing how Kane<\/em> manipulates our sense of auditory space, and he connected that to Welles\u2019 use of radio conventions. Contrary to what we might expect, Welles’s soundtrack doesn’t create much “deep-focus sound”; Altman shows that\u00a0our impression of that is created chiefly by an overall reverberation rather than precise placement of sonic events. Altman also stresses Welles’ use of sudden, loud sound events to start or end a scene–another radio technique.<\/p>\n

Today we’re lucky to have a great many of Welles’\u00a0radio programs available on the Web<\/a>, and we can appreciate how his\u00a0rich soundscapes mingle noises, dialogue, and voice-over narration. These shows remain\u00a0very gripping. Listening to Kane<\/em> in the same spirit, I’ve been impressed with how talky it is, how sounds crash in on you, and how even bursts of silence can be startling. Welles told one biographer that he aimed to create spiky transitions, both visual and sonic, because he thought most films of the period were dull.<\/p>\n

He had already made his stage reputation on \u201cshock effects,\u201d those stunning high points in particular productions:\u00a0the death of Macbeth in the Harlem production (1936),\u00a0an actor\u2019s headfirst tumble into the orchestra pit in\u00a0Horse Eats Hat<\/em>\u00a0(1936),\u00a0the mob\u2019s murder of Cinna the Poet in Caesar<\/em> (1937),\u00a0the guillotine scenes in Danton\u2019s Death<\/em> (1938), and police agents firing from the audience in Native Son <\/em>(1941). He became known as a director of thrilling moments, ever willing to sacrifice steady buildup to anything that would astonish.\u00a0Forties theatre critics had a name for it: \u201cWellesapoppin\u2019.\u201d\u00a0That quality dominates\u00a0Kane<\/em>\u2019s images and sounds.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Remembering, recounting, replays<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"Welles<\/a><\/p>\n

Otto Hullet, Barbara O’Neill, and Orson Welles in Sidney Kingsley’s Ten Million Ghosts<\/strong> (1936).<\/em><\/p>\n

Just as Kane<\/em> amplifies visual and auditory schemas already in circulation, the film does somewhat the same thing to narrative strategies. The key innovation here involves flashbacks and point of view.<\/p>\n

Flashbacks were rare in the 1930s, but the early 1940s began a flashback craze that continued throughout the decade. Between August 1940 and December 1941, every top studio tried out flashbacks in a major release: The Great McGinty<\/em> (Paramount), Kitty Foyle<\/em> (RKO), I Wake Up Screaming<\/em> (Fox), H. M. Pulham, Esq.<\/em> (MGM), and Strawberry Blonde<\/em> (Warners). A reviewer claimed that the \u201cretrospective viewpoint\u201d technique in A Woman\u2019s Face<\/em>, released the same month as Kane<\/em>, \u201chad of late become commonplace.\u201d By September 1941 the Los Angeles Times<\/em> critic considered the technique overused.<\/p>\n

Even though the trend was already launched, Kane<\/em> probably strengthened Hollywood\u2019s inclination toward time-shifting. Again, it crystallizes in an influential way possibilities opened up in film, radio, theatre, and other media.<\/p>\n

Kane<\/em>\u2019s central premise\u2014a dead man recalled by one or more survivors\u2014had been rehearsed in earlier films. The Power and the Glory<\/em> (1933), scripted by Preston Sturges, was probably the most noted experiment in that vein. (For more, see this long-ago entry<\/a>.) Another example was The Life of Vergie Winters<\/em> (1934), which begins with a funeral procession and flashes back to the start of a backstreet love affair. (See this entry<\/a>.) The Escape<\/em> (1939) centers on a doctor who tells a crime reporter about a recently deceased neighborhood gangster, and flashbacks enact his tale.<\/p>\n

These earlier examples stick to a single teller, while Kane<\/em> offers reports on its dead man from five characters. Here again, however, there are precedents. In fiction and drama, trials have long served as motivation for flashbacks from multiple viewpoints. A major example, perhaps the first, is Robert Browning\u2019s verse novel The Ring and the Book<\/em> (1868-1869). Multiple tellers recounting events in flashback were staples of Hollywood courtroom dramas too. Beyond the trial-based format,\u00a0Welles\u2019 radio programs had welcomed multiple storytellers, sometimes embedding them within one another\u2019s tales, sometimes letting them banter with each other.<\/p>\n

\"Federal<\/a><\/p>\n

Kane<\/em> assembles views on a person rather than evidence of a crime, but even this is not completely unknown. Some playwrights had tried out what Kane<\/em> screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz had called the \u201cprismatic\u201d approach to an absent central character.\u00a0Sophie Treadwell\u2019s play Eye of the Beholder<\/em> (1919) portrays an offstage woman as seen through the eyes of her former husband, her lover, her lover\u2019s mother, and her own mother. The play These Few Ashes<\/em> (1928) presents the life of a (supposedly) dead rou\u00e9 through the recollections of three women, each of whom sees him quite differently.<\/p>\n

Then there\u2019s reporter Thompson\u2019s investigation. The Power and the Glory<\/em>\u2019s exhumation of the tycoon\u2019s past is presented simply as his old friend\u2019s recounting; it’s not the investigation of a mystery. Kane<\/em> innovated in the biographical film genre by creating curiosity based on the dying man\u2019s last word, \u201cRosebud.\u201d That device shifts us to the terrain of the detective story. The dying message had become a mystery-tale convention from Conan Doyle onward, and Welles and Mankiewicz shrewdly recruited it for their purposes (although it\u2019s not clear exactly who hears Kane say the crucial word).<\/p>\n

In blending conventions of several genres, Kane<\/em>\u00a0motivates the flashbacks on diverse grounds. The film\u2019s detective-story side is anticipated by The Phantom of Crestwood<\/em> and Affairs of a Gentleman<\/em> (1934); in both, flashbacks represent the suspects\u2019 answers under questioning. Like The Escape<\/em>, Kane<\/em> uses a reporter\u2019s search for a story to justify its flashbacks, and the reporter isn\u2019t the protagonist (as he\u2019d be in a typical newsman movie). And being something of a biopic, Welles\u2019s film can trace the rise of a great man from the vantage point of old age, as in Edison, the Man<\/em> (1940). By the way, that\u2019s another film of the era using a journalist\u2019s questioning to launch flashbacks to a person\u2019s life.<\/p>\n

Another wrinkle:\u00a0Kane<\/em>\u2019s flashback organization skips around in the past. Episodes of Kane<\/em>\u2019s life are not presented in 1-2-3 order.\u00a0Plays set in courtrooms, such as Elmer Rice\u2019s\u00a0On Trial<\/em>\u00a0(1914), had rendered flashbacks out of sequential order, and so had radio dramas. Welles\u2019 1938 radio adaptation of\u00a0Dracula<\/em>\u00a0shuffles episodes in the manner of the source novel.\u00a0Non-chronological strings of flashbacks weren\u2019t common in film, but The Trial of Vivienne Ware<\/em> (1932) and The Power and the Glory<\/em> used them significantly.<\/p>\n

Even rarer is the replayed flashback, the scene from earlier in the film that is repeated, usually to reveal something we hadn’t caught on the first pass. Kane<\/em> has occasion to present a brief replay from differing character viewpoints. Susan\u2019s opera premiere is first treated curtly, as the object of the stagehands’ scorn. Later, in her flashback, the same scene registers the central characters’ reactions: a severe Kane, a bored Leland, the harried singing master, and above all the panicked Susan.<\/p>\n

\"Stage<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"Stagehand<\/a><\/p>\n

\"Stage<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"Susan<\/a><\/p>\n

Replay flashbacks were rare in the 1930s, but The Witness Chair<\/em> (1936) provides one example. After Kane<\/em>, they would become more common, with Mildred Pierce<\/em> (1945) offering one of the period’s most complex examples. (I discuss it here<\/a>\u00a0and here<\/a>, with a video here<\/a>.)<\/p>\n

Even the coup de th\u00e9\u00e2tre<\/em> of following Kane\u2019s death with a newsreel can be seen as revising a schema. \u201cNews on the March\u201d isn\u2019t exactly a flashback, but it provides exposition by shuttling among time periods in a manner characteristic of the film to come.\u00a0Projected headlines and documentary footage, faked or actual, had found their way into 1930s theatre practice, notably in the WPA Living Newspaper productions. Many 1930s films opened with montage sequences using headlines, stock footage, and voice-overs like those in newsreels; The Roaring Twenties<\/em> (1939) is a bold example. Gabriel over the White House<\/em> (1933), with its mix of library footage and staged shots, anticipates Kane<\/em> somewhat, as does Welles\u2019 script for an uncompleted 1939 RKO project, The Smiler with a Knife<\/em>, which includes a newsreel surveying the career of the fascist villain.<\/p>\n

Another, less proximate source may be Sidney Kingsley\u2019s 1936 Broadway play Ten Million Ghosts<\/em>. This strident antiwar tract lasted only eleven performances and was never published; I took a look at a copy of the script last week. In the original production Welles played the na\u00efve young poet Andr\u00e9 in love with the daughter of a munitions magnate during World War I.<\/p>\n

Ten Million Ghosts<\/em> includes a scene in which arms makers spend an evening watching a battlefront newsreel in their parlor. Kingsley\u2019s purpose is to show the capitalists as utterly indifferent to the slaughter that the camera records.<\/p>\n

They watch in silence for a while. Then there are technical comments on the explosives, shells, etc. as we see them hurl geysers of earth and men into the sky.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Was this embedded newsreel an early source for News on the March<\/em>? Scholars have wondered. And there’s more.<\/p>\n

As the film unwinds, Andr\u00e9, who has learned that his family has been killed in the war, cries out in protest. Madeleine is torn between him and her father. To win her over her father angrily defends his double-dealing between both sides in the war. It\u2019s all just business, he insists. Then we get this piece of action:<\/p>\n

De Kruif rises, intercepting the beam of the projecting machine, his face highly lighted, his shadow, black and ominously magnified, thrown on the screen superimposed over the pictures of men writhing in bloody destruction.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Was De Kruif\u2019s moment in the play a visual idea that inspired Kane<\/em>\u2019s projection-room scene? If so, Welles and Toland revised the premise of the play. Instead of the rather obvious looming shadow cast on the screen, the story editor is a silhouette against the blank white rectangle, and then, in a reversed setup, he becomes another silhouette, this time splitting the projector beam.<\/p>\n

\"Proj<\/a> \"Proj<\/a><\/p>\n

Welles \u00a0told Peter Bogdanovich that he never saw the projection scene in Kingsley’s play because he was always back in his dressing room at that point. But as Pat McGilligan points out in his new biography Young Orson<\/em>, Welles could hardly have been unaware of the film-within-the-play; many critics commented on it. More decisively,\u00a0in the playscript, Andr\u00e9 is clearly onstage during the screening. He cries out against the carnage: “Look, look! Those are only pictures. . . Out there it’s real. . .” Peter Noble’s 1956 biography The Fabulous Orson Welles<\/em> quotes Welles as declaring that this scene left a strong impression on\u00a0him.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not enough just to mention some sources. If you practice historically-slanted criticism, you need to ask not only \u201cWhere from?\u201d but \u201cWhat for?\u201d In other words, you have to ask how elements that a filmmaker inherits get repurposed for the particular movie.<\/p>\n

So, for instance, Kane<\/em>\u2019s depth-designed images held in long takes allow a more \u201ctheatrical\u201d shift of attention within a visual field (driven largely by following who\u2019s speaking). They also create contrasts of scale and visual weight. And each scene will have its specific\u00a0demands that the depth technique fulfills. A depth shot can present cause and effect in the same frame, and it can build suspense by letting us await Kane’s interference in\u00a0a foreground situation.<\/p>\n

\"Glass<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\"Piano<\/a><\/p>\n

Similarly, Kane\u2019s narrative strategies, synthesizing so many earlier efforts, blend to create a mystery that isn\u2019t about whodunit but rather\u00a0\u201cwhy\u2019d he do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I\u2019m not exactly saying that everything is a mashup. But that slogan does capture the fact that in art nothing comes from nothing. Kane<\/em>\u00a0blends several options that had been circulating in popular culture and high culture for some years. \u00a0Like others before and since, Welles revised schemas tried out earlier; he combined some, exaggerated some, and infused many of them with\u00a0new force. Because of his film\u2019s prestige, he gave thrusting imagery, bold sonic manipulations, and complicated time shifts a new prominence in Hollywood filmmaking. The Forties had begun.<\/p>\n

\n

There are a several\u00a0essential Welles sources. Apart from the many fine critical studies (see especially Jim Naremore’s Magic World of Orson Welles<\/a><\/em> and Joe McBride’s What Ever Happened to Orson Welles<\/em>?<\/a>), the biographical surveys I habitually turn to are Welles and Peter Bogdanovich, This Is Orson Welles<\/a><\/em> (Da Capo rev. ed., 1998), with a painstaking chronology by Jonathan Rosenbaum; the three-volume Simon Callow biography<\/a>; Bret Wood’s Orson Welles: A Bio-Bibliography<\/a><\/em> (Greenwood, 1990); Barbara Leaming’s Orson Welles: A Biography<\/em> (Viking, 1985; my reference to shock effects is from p. 338); Frank Brady’s Citizen Welles<\/a><\/em> (Scribners, 1990); and most recently Pat McGilligan, Young Orson: The Years of Luck and Genius on the Path to Citizen Kane<\/strong><\/a><\/em> (Harper, 2015). Pat’s discussion of Ten Million Ghosts<\/em> is on pp. 366-367; Welles’ misremembering of the production is on p. 78 of This Is Orson Welles<\/em>. A typescript of Kingsley’s play is held in\u00a0the New York Public Library<\/a>, at the Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts.<\/p>\n

Rick Altman’s study is “Deep-Focus Sound: Citizen Kane<\/em> and the Radio Aesthetic,”<\/a> Quarterly Review of Film & Video<\/em> 15, 3 (1994): 1-33. If it’s available without cost\u00a0online, I haven’t found it.\u00a0The programs \u201cDracula\u201d<\/a> (1938), \u201cThe Hurricane\u201d<\/a> (1939), and \u201cThe Adventures of Huckleberry Finn\u201d<\/a> (1940) provide vivid examples of multiple narrators and embedded flashbacks. For a comprehensive account of Welles\u2019 radio work, see Paul Heyer, The Medium and the Magician: Orson Welles, the Radio Years 1935-1952<\/a><\/em> (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2005). As for prismatic flashbacks,\u00a0in the mid-1930s, Mankiewicz had built the plot of an unfinished play around the memories of people who had known John Dillinger. See Richard Meryman, Mank: The Wit, World, and Life of Herman Mankiewicz<\/a><\/em> (New York: Morrow, 1978), 247, 258.<\/p>\n

On\u00a0Kane<\/em>‘s visual style and its place in film history, see my accounts in\u00a0The Classical Hollywood Cinema<\/em>\u00a0(1985) and\u00a0On the History of Film Style<\/em>\u00a0(1997), as well as on this site (here<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0here<\/a>\u00a0especially). A detailed analysis of\u00a0Kane<\/em>‘s narrative strategies is in Chapter Three of Film Art: An Introduction,<\/em>\u00a011 ed., (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2016). The distinction between depth staging and deep cinematography is explored in Chapters Four and Five.<\/p>\n

\"Kane<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

DB here: Kristin and I are\u00a0one-third through our New York stay, and blogging has suffered. There have been talks to give, old friends to visit, new friends to meet, and movies and exhibitions to see. And there\u2019ll be more activities of these sorts to come. But I can\u2019t let 6 May pass without some acknowledgment […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[224,77,60,91,59,54],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-33803","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-1940s-hollywood","category-directors-welles","category-technique-cinematography","category-film-technique-sound","category-technique-staging","category-narrative-strategies"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33803","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=33803"}],"version-history":[{"count":39,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33803\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":36889,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/33803\/revisions\/36889"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=33803"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=33803"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidbordwell.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=33803"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}