The SXSW Super Special Screening this morning turned out to be Me and Orson Welles, the latest film from Richard Linklater, a director so long associated with Austin and SXSW that the screening shouldn't have been much of a surprise at all. (And apparently it wasn't a surprise to many in the audience, so I assume Twitter was all a-tweet with the news.) Suprise or not, it was definitely a treat.
Zac Efron - yes, the High School Musical kid - stars as Richard Samuels, a high school student circa 1937 with dreams far beyond his class musical. He knows he's an artist at heart, he's just not sure whether he's an actor, writer, musician or what. He does have a crucial knack for bullshitting that will serve him well, as we learn when he happens upon members of the Mercury Theater announcing their latest production to a throng of New York pedestrians. Richard manages to charm Mercury honcho Orson Welles with his bravado, insisting he can play the ukelele and sing like an angel. While he's not quite clear how these skills will come in handy for the modern-dress production of Julius Caesar Welles is masterminding, he does get the tiny part of Lucius in the show.
What follows is a lightly comedic mix of coming-of-age story and classic backstage intrigue. Richard gets quite an education in how theater really works, not only from Mercury mainstays Joseph Cotton, Norman Lloyd and John Houseman, but from Welles' assistant Sonja (Claire Danes), who briefly indulges Richard's romantic interest before revealing the full measure of her ambition. Efron is perfectly bland as the callow youngster, which is appropriate for the role; it doesn't matter much that he's not terribly exciting to watch, as his primary co-star picks up more than his share of the slack.
Me and Orson Welles may technically be more about the former than the latter, but there's no question that the movie belongs to relative newcomer Christian McKay as Welles. I'm not one to start trying to generate Oscar buzz in March, but I'm dead certain you'll be hearing his name in connection with the O-word when the film opens later this year. It's a dead-on impression, but much more than that; McKay nails Welles on pretty much every level you can imagine - his charm, theatricality, humor and megalomania all weave in and out of one another in a seamless portrait of the artist as a young man.
Linklater's last attempt at a period piece was his disappointing take on The Newton Boys, but he's on much firmer ground this time around. There's a hint of Woody Allen in his nostalgic Radio Days mode here (even the elegant white-on-black opening credits seem like a wink toward Allen), although Linklater's own experience in the film business surely informs the behind-the-scenes tensions and backstage farce, as well as the camaraderie that develops as showtime approaches. Me and Orson Welles probably isn't destined to be considered a major Linklater work, but it's one of the most purely enjoyable films of the festival so far.