When I first saw “Ed Wood” in 1994, I thought it was a great movie about the world’s worst filmmaker. It was also very funny, with excellent performances by, among others, Johnny Depp, Martin Landau, Sarah Jessica Parker and Patricia Arquette. Though the scene-stealing Landau won Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of the aged Bela Lugosi, Depp deserved Best Actor for the lead. As Ed Wood—the talentless, cross-dressing, indefatigable auteur of schlocky classics like “Plan 9 From Outer Space” and “Glen or Glenda?”—Depp is charming, kindly and upbeat in the face of adversity, which he suffers constantly in his quest to make movies. Ed Wood identifies with Orson Welles, and the fact that his work is as far from “Citizen Kane” as movies can be doesn’t bother him in the least.
The second time I saw “Ed Wood” was at Cannes in 1995. In the Palais, the only people who laughed were the Americans and Brits. The French sat in stony silence, glaring as we chortled. Over the years I’ve watched it again a couple of times, laughing less—perhaps because the sight of Depp in a skirt and angora sweater isn’t as funny as it was originally—and admiring the perfect script, by Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, even more. But it wasn’t until my most recent viewing that I saw poignancy of Wood’s quest to make films.
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