Mayhem in Manhattan: Welles' War of the Worlds Broadcast

    

    

 No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days. At most terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And early in the twentieth century came the great disillusionment.

                                                                                                H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds.

 First of all, Happy Halloween, Dear Reader!

The night was October 30, 1938, and Orson Welles' Mercury Players were getting ready to stage their rendition of the above named work of science fiction.  Welles adapted the work, to take place in the 'present day,' and turned from the staunch narrative of the book, to a kind of 'news broadcast' in the fashion of the day.  One of the things that inspired this approach, was the infamous radio broadcast where one reporter witnessed the crash of the Zepplin, Hindenberg, and described it:

Such an inspired, albeit terrifying and tragic moment, brilliantly realized.  It was this that Welles was trying to reproduce.  I mean, think about it for a second:  let's dramatically conceive of a Martian invasion, in the form of a news broadcast.  I have to admit that this approach was both daring a brilliant.  It was also an act from a man of towering arrogance, who had little or no regard for the consequences of a radio play, so formatted.  I imagine that Welles was thinking something like 'now THIS will get me noticed!!'

And, so it did.

If you'd like to experience a little bit of this broadcast, here it is.  It's not long, but is still incredibly powerful (even if it's a little bit dated.  I mean, this kind of thing pales before Stephen King's psychotic clown of "IT.").

  

Even if you only just listened to a little bit of this, you must imagine a would before TVs, Netflix, and Amazon Prime.  You must imagine a world before the internet.  You must imagine a world that is far, far away from us.  I imagine that it is difficult for you--it's difficult for me, and I grew up with the legend of Welles' broadcast. And yet, I would like you to, for a moment, place yourself in a world where people would 'value purchase' radios before things like cars and ice boxes.  Radios would quickly become their conduit to a frightening world of economic privation, and political upheaval.  Then, there were the newsreels at the movies, which showed scenes of Hitler and Mussolini.  Fun!

It was in this atmosphere that Orson's broadcast hit like a freight train, frightening the American public on that long ago October night, in 1938. Welles' brilliance in the formatting was evident in the amount of people who took it seriously! No, really.  There were people in New Jersey and upstate New York, and hell all over the country, who believed what they were hearing was the truth, and packed up their cars, ready to flee their homes at the drop of a hat.

One of the worse parts of the broadcast, was where the fictional 'news' broadcaster is describing the initial landing of the Martians, and one could hear the 'screams' and general mayhem in the background.  Then, Welles held up a hand (or so we are told), signaling to the technicians to silence the broadcast.  This was followed by several minutes of radio silence.  I mean, can you imagine what you would have thought if you believed this was truly happening? Chances are, you'd be freaking out, throwing whatever possessions you had into the car, and then peeling out into the street. 

So, how was this mass delusion accomplished? Easier than you might imagine.  There were plenty of people who were 'spinning the dial,' or channel surfing that night.  It was therefore entirely possible that someone might come into the middle of this radio play, and believe it to be real.  These were the thirties, where scientists believed in at least the possibility of intelligent life on Mars.  It was not necessarily science fiction...yet.  

I think, in some ways, that this is a testament to the power of Wells' book.  I mean, let's face it:  Orson was working from the best possible material!  The book has even translated into the present day, as this scene from Speilberg's interpretation clearly shows:

 Absolutely terrifying, even in spite of Tom Cruise (who I rather like, despite the Scientology thingie).

But, that was H.G. Wells, master of science fiction and horror.  He was the one who created the whole idea of an extra-terrestrial invasion, and the near extinction of mankind.

But, then old H.G. didn't conceive of a world with Will Smith and a jet engine.  :)

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It was the after effects of the broadcast that were most interesting. And in the aftermath of the radio play, there were accidents but no real casualties. 

But there could’ve been. 

One has to think though about the issue of social responsibility. Yes, Halloween pranks are great, but not on such a massive scale. Is there anything wrong with what Welles did? I think so, but then I’m a fuddy duddy. 

And what did Welles get out of it? A movie contract with RKO pictures.