Behind the scenes at the conception of _Citizen Kane_, as dictated by a fast-talking screenwriter who drank and gaffed his way out of a lucrative career in big-studio Hollywood. Herman J. Mankiewicz is said writer, a broken lush of the highest degree, who agrees to take the gloves off for a scathing cinematic shellacking of the famous William Randolph Hearst with the understanding that he'll remain anonymous. Wunderkind Orson Welles is happy to take the credit in his stead, then furious when the author has a change of heart and decides to stand behind his work after all.

Most of the story occurs during flashbacks, as Mank reflects upon his working life, grows increasingly resentful over the series of slights and missteps that led to his current predicament, and pours that sense of vengeful truth into the script. In his prime, he was a real cad, quick-witted and outspoken, a colorful product of the times even in warm, sepia-hinted black and white. Gary Oldman does characteristically well with the part, fluctuating between loud, biting humor in the heat of the moment and uncertain self-doubt in the softer personal breaks after he's removed foot from mouth, but it often feels like a beefed-up supporting role and not a lead in the traditional sense.

All the historical flashbacks are stuffed with references and name drops, an embarrassment of riches for classical cinephiles (or even fans of 20s and 30s cultural notoriety) that assumes an awful lot of existing knowledge from the viewing audience. If you aren't already sure who Hearst, Marion Davies and Louis B. Mayer were, you'll get a few strong hints, but you're going to miss a lot of implied depth. Speaking personally, I just recently finished a biography of Hearst that pretty well set the stage, and I still felt overwhelmed at times.

A lot of work went into getting the sights, sounds and textures of depression-era California right, and in that respect it's a slam dunk for compulsively-obsessed David Fincher. _Mank_ really feels like an immaculately-restored film from the golden age, which serves as beautiful compliment to the towering old backlots, sprawling palatial estates and smoke-cloaked executive offices which house most of the action. The screen shimmers and shines, even as the plot fails to change gears. It's a series of rich scenes left searching for a spark; the implication of menace without the arrival. As a historical fanboy, I was delighted to devour it, but as a moviegoer, I felt a little under-served.