In this column my objective is to present films that are considered classic and/or culturally significant, in order to analyze them and attempt to understand their lasting appeal. Ultimately, any emphasis on the influence and lasting appeal of classic film would not be complete without mentioning the name of Orson Welles. His 1941 satire on William Randolph Hearst's yellow journalism empire, Citizen Kane, is consistently identified as one of the most important American films ever made (it routinely ranks #1 on polls for both the British and American Film Institutes).

While I certainly agree that Citizen Kane is a masterful work of film, I have always felt a sharp tinge of sadness over the fact that for many viewers Kane has dramatically overshadowed Welles' remaining body of work. However, in recent years many of these features have been reviewed once again, and the genius that made Welles' first film so groundbreaking is still at work in many of his later features.

One particular film where Welles' continued development as an artist is very evident is the classic 1958 film noir Touch of Evil. Not only did it reinforce Welles' reputation as a technical virtuoso, but the plot and the presentation of the film is just as enticing. The film has a rather rich history; there have been a total of three versions of the film that have been released, with the most recent version having been released in 1998. Like most of the films produced by Orson Welles, the film incited a storm of controversy with studio executives, and as a result, the original version of the film was edited severely. For the purposes of this review, I have chosen the restored 1998 version; not only is it the most recent release of the film, but it was also constructed to be as close to Orson Welles' original vision of the film as possible.

This haunting mystery begins with the sudden explosion of an automobile that has crossed over the border of Mexico into the United States, killing the man and woman inside. Suspicion for the murder is immediately placed on a Mexican citizen, but Mexican narcotics official Mike Vargas (Charlton Heston, in a rather unorthodox choice of casting) is determined to discover if this suspicion is a valid one. At odds with the honorable Vargas and his newlywed American wife Susie (Janet Leigh) is the corpulent and corrupt police Captain Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles). While researching the events of the murder, Vargas begins to suspect that the highly respected Quinlan may have planted evidence and made other sinister efforts in order to frame an innocent man. Quinlan then proceeds to embark on a determined mission to take any action — even murder — to prevent Vargas from exposing his fraudulent actions.

One of my favorite things about this terrific film is the fact that Welles was able to secure such a terrific cast — where else can you find Charlton Heston, Janet Leigh, Marlene Dietrich, and Welles himself all in one film? Not only that, but each of the performances are wildly entertaining ones. Heston is likely the last actor anyone would select to play the part of a Mexican man, but he succeeded in the role and prevented it from seeming like an absurd caricature. Leigh was very effective in the role of Vargas' terrorized wife Susie, and Dietrich has a very interesting cameo as an arcane gypsy. And yet the greatest amount of praise should be reserved for Welles, who was not only willing to direct himself in the role of an unappealing, despicable figure, but in doing so produced the most captivating character in the film. Much emphasis is continuously placed on Welles' skill behind the camera, but it should also be noted that he was a master thespian in front of the lens.