The movie industry and its rich history remained a continuous source of inspiration for Peter Bogdanovich’s entire career. Beginning with his many interviews with various Hollywood legends, including John Ford, Howard Hawks and Orson Welles, Bogdanovich sought to pay tribute to these directors by imitating their style in more contemporary stories. Yet, for The Cat’s Meow, a comeback for Bogdanovich after several years directing minor television movies, Hollywood is the story and, in this case, it is one of the most notorious and enduring rumors in a town and business built on rumors. Bogdanovich heard the story of movie producer Thomas Ince’s death from Welles, who in turn heard it from screenwriter Charlie Lederer, who was the niece of Marion Davies, one of the prime characters of the story. Little is clear about the true details of Ince’s death but Bogdanovich instead focuses on the nature of misunderstandings and secrets that helped build this great industry and the positive and negative impacts on various individuals’ careers. Years after the incident, there remained little evidence for journalists and researchers to track down in order to get the real scoop and so, given the nature of Hollywood, rumors circulated and mutated, resulting in the intriguing but murky story understood and accepted by Bogdanovich and much of modern-day Hollywood. To quote The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance: “when the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

To describe the plot would be anathema to what Bogdanovich attempts to construct. Given that the plot was told to him secondhand, historical accuracy is not of prime importance. What matters most is the feel and look of 1924 aboard media mogul William Randolph Hearst’s luxurious yacht. the Oneida, with rich and ambitious showbiz figures getting together to celebrate Ince’s birthday while also utilizing the opportunity to gain a foothold in their respective careers. The fascination of seeing these legendary Hollywood figures mingle, make love and manipulate is a must for any fan of the early Golden Age, when silent stars ruled, and outsiders often had as much a hand in movie production as the artists themselves. In this sense, The Cat’s Meow is the most nostalgic project of Bogdanovich’s career, looking at the period when collaboration between people with ideas and people with money was more personal and face-to-face than subsequent years. With the edifice of the industry still in its early stages of development, there were fewer middlemen to interfere and, perhaps, slightly better relationships between artists and businessmen.

The animosity between the artists and business heads is central to understanding the history of cinema as well as The Cat’s Meow. Symbolized by Hearst (Edward Herrmann), businessmen are portrayed here as possessive, egotistical, and unfeeling towards the mercurial nature of the actors and directors who they see as unfit to understand how to make a movie successful. The artists are represented by Charlie Chaplin (Eddie Izzard), whose massive success allowed him to become a successful businessman (part owner of United Artists Studio) as well as indulge his voracious appetite for young women. Within this fractured relationship between creators and distributors, the common goal of getting the product to mass audiences is sometimes lost in the shuffle. In this case, Bogdanovich develops this idea through the interactions between Hearst, Chaplin and Davies (Kirsten Dunst), the object of affection for both men but for very different reasons. Hearst sees Davies as his ticket to continued success in pictures as well as his lone connection to the younger, more trendy generation of artists and fans he desperately wants to connect with. For Chaplin, Davies represents not only his latest potential sexual conquest but also the possibility of becoming a complete independent entity unable to be intimidated by powerful men with money like Hearst. With Davies and her success by his side, there might have been no cinematic landscape Chaplin could not have conquered and to imagine this alternative collaboration colors the fate of these alleged events even more so.

Around the three central characters is constructed an array of lesser-known names who are on the yacht either for fun, business or both. Included here are film producer and fated victim Thomas Ince (Cary Elwes), who has his own reasons to use Davies as a lure for Hearst; novelist Elinor Glyn (Joanna Lumley), who seems content to hang with the youth and comment dryly on the nature of Hollywood; up-and-coming actress Margaret Livingston (Claudia Harrison), who desires Ince and not just his support; and ambitious gossip columnist Louella Parsons (Jennifer Tilly) who is keen to take whatever opportunities come her way. The costumes and set design are lovely to look at and the actors fully embrace the chance to dress in this classic fashionable style as well as recreate the iconic time period and the carefree attitudes that built it. In particular, Dunst and Herrmann illuminate the famous Davies/Hearst coupling and all the strange, sad, fascinating interplay between them. Bogdanovich expands this further by taking time to illustrate Marion Davies comedic gifts amongst her peers. Herrmann shows Hearst, who refused to allow Davies to do comedies because he didn’t want people laughing at her, to be both arrogant and fearful regarding what her leaving him would represent, essentially a rejection of his status as a powerful media tycoon. This creates a complicated and sympathetic character whose legacy has been tarnished due to being the partial inspiration for Welles in Citizen Kane.

Bogdanovich’s ties to Welles are no secret to anyone with tangential knowledge of his career or the movie industry, and this is especially evident in the case of The Cat’s Meow. Therefore, it might just be that this movie represents Bogdanovich’s attempt to right what he believes to be the historical wrongs hurled at Welles. In the case of Kane, there was a massive media push (spearheaded by Hearst employee Louella Parsons) to discredit Welles and the movie, which undoubtedly had an impact on Welles’ subsequent career. Having heard this story from Welles and centering it around Hearst and his desperation to remain a relevant cultural power player through Davies, is it possible that Bogdanovich is attempting to settle the score? The answer isn’t so ambiguous.

Elevating the rumors and feelings of a historical event rather than the empirical facts illustrates a poignant element of the movie business. Given that so much of the work of movies is based in dreamworlds and fantasy and the projection of something rather than its actual depiction, it is not a stretch to conclude that the men and women behind such creations have their own unique problems with distinguishing reality from imaginary. The question formed in Liberty Valance and in The Cat’s Meow is which of these approaches is more useful and, by extension, profitable. After all, why bother spinning an alternate fact-based yarn if the fictional one works so well? In her final voice-over, Elinor Glyn notes the importance of carrying on with the crowd despite realizing her own vulnerability. In her words, “I too look like a fool. Yet it’s so much fun that none of us can stop. If we stopped, we’d have nothing.” This certainly reflects the majority attitude of Hollywood throughout the decades and even more so with a powerful force like Hearst at the stern. Like the members of that fateful 1924 weekend, to be popular and trusted is paramount, regardless of who the consequences may be.