Louis from parts of Spain and to Cuba from Africa. Feeney from the Welles script, with the characters, plot, and much of the dialogue radically altered and the locales shifted to St. Ten years later, in 1999, George Hickenlooper released a film of the same title, adapted very loosely with F. In 1989, it also came out in Italian as La posta in gioco. (My major regret about Vidal’s essay is his lack of familiarity with Oja Kodar and F for Fake, which limits his lucidity about some of the script’s more personal elements.) I hasten to repeat, however, that anyone who wants to track down this book can still do so. That all its multiple appearances have come long after the book went out of print and disappeared from sight has seemed to me a paradigmatic illustration of “Wellesian” mistiming - a problem that dogged his film career and continues unabated posthumously.
The same essay has subsequently been reprinted in a couple of Vidal’s collections and elsewhere (including Orson Welles Interviews, edited by Mark W. 9) that finally accorded the screenplay the literary attention and respect I always believed it deserved - in an engaging (if not exactly scholarly) autobiographical piece about Welles that also reviewed Frank Brady’s more recent biography. And it was roughly two years after then that Gore Vidal published a rave review in the New York Review of Books (“Remembering Orson Welles,” June 1, 1989, vol. The following year, around the time I was preparing to make a permanent move to Chicago to write for the Chicago Reader, the book appeared. Having already brought out a handsome volume devoted to Robert Towne’s original screenplay for Chinatown in a similar way, he seemed to know what he was talking about, and I conveyed his proposal to Oja Kodar. Pepper, a local rare book dealer who, in response to my assertion that the Welles screenplay for The Big Brass Ring should be published, expressed some interest in bringing out a limited edition of 1,000 copies. One person in the audience who introduced himself to me afterwards was James When I presented Welles tribute at the Santa Barbara film festival in 1986, (What I presume is one of her sculptures, on the desk, is more visible.) The photograph of Welles’s typewriter reproduced below was taken by Kodar’s nephew, Aleksander (“Sasha”), and Oja herself can be seen lurking indistinctly in a corner. Published with the screenplay by Santa Teresa Press in the fall of 1987, and reprinted in my 2007 collection Discovering Orson Welles (along with the introductory paragraphs that follow, tweaked and abridged somewhat).
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