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Dork calling Orson

I had some free time this weekend and in a bid to fill that free time I chose to watch a copy of Citizen Kane that somebody gave me before Christmas. It’s exactly 119 minutes long and that’s exactly 119 minutes I’ll never get back.

Oh Lord, this is a dull film and it’s not helped by Orson Welles who can’t fail to induce sound, uninterrupted slumber. Remember, Orson is the Sandeman – the ‘mysterious’ caped crusader-cum rapist with a gravelly voice that used to promote chav-grade sherry in the late 70s/early 80s. I’ll confess, I’ve never liked the graveliness of Orson’s voice. Some do, but they are stroke victims.

To be fair, that voice isn’t the most irritating in the world… but it is mighty close. Orson, in full soliloquy sounds like somebody planing a particularly smooth piece of timber, the resultant ennui only broken by the odd increase in volume that will, at best, prompt a jolt during your forty winks.

And don’t expect any level of intrigue during a full, uninterrupted viewing of Kane, just the misery of knowing there are only a few things that are more dull: things like moving your index finger up and down a desk for 119 minutes and counting your nose for 119 minutes. In fact I’d rather file my own head for 119 minutes.

Citizen Kane is nothing more than a long, dreadful, self-indulgent sedative. It’s not without merit, however. If you have been out until the early hours you can easily catch up by watching Citizen Kane in the afternoon – there really is no need for Nytol.

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