Just came across a 1976 article on OSOTW which is pretty interesting... part one is below:
MOVIE PREVIEW WITH PICTURES:
ORSON WELLES AND FIVE YEARS OF
"THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WIND"
By VIOLA HEGYI SWISHER -- AFTER DARK - March 1976
Orson Welles' upcoming new film. The Other Side of the Wind, is already five exciting years old. Parts of it, anyhow. It stars not only stars, but stellar directors, too. Nevertheless, all's Welles. He wrote it. Produced it. Directed. Masterminded the lighting. The cinematography. He even worked the clapboard that snaps out the number of the scene about to be shot and chalks up whether it's Take One —or Take Twenty. The only thing he didn't do in The Other Side of the Wind is act. And who knows? He may have done that too by now.
Welles assigned roles with prodigal unpredictability, in some cases casting to type, in others casting against type. John Huston was typecast. Susan Strasberg definitely not. Huston slips naturally into the role of a big-time director because, of course, that's what he is. His own most recent distinguished directorial achievement is The Man Who Would Be King, which stars Christopher Plummer, Sean Connery, and Michael Caine. Director Huston bypassed actor Huston for King. However, it should be noted that in Wind he enacts with authority the role of director not because he is a director, but because he is an authoritative actor.
As to Welles' other manner of casting—against type—there's diminutive Susan Strasberg. She combines a flair for feminine chic dramatically interwoven with the fiber of our unisex times and the delicate sensitivity of an instinctual psychic. With all these subtleties going. Susan plays a callous critic. And you know how they are! Citing their separate experiences with Welles, Huston and Strasberg, at different times and different places, arrived at parallel conclusions. The most restrained remark Huston made was a vibrant, "Orson's a rich and varied creative talent."
Her hands painting space-sketches as she described Welles' juxtaposing of 35mm color and blown-up 16mm black-and-white techniques, Susan put it this way: "His concept is brilliant." Clearly, this motion picture, with its film-within-a-film idea and image, can be a new experience for audiences as it was for participants. "Only Orson could have done this picture." John Huston, with an air of finality, puffed life into one of those huge, expense-be-damned cigars. Grizzled, gracious as he beamed his personal mid-morning salute to Welles, Huston greeted the California sunshine with matching warmth. All pale gold and green, the canyon outside was only minimally tamed to accommodate the spacious dwelling in an apparent wilderness not far from the Pacific Ocean. Inside the house, pre-Columbian art, modern paintings, books—classic and contemporary—and the memorabilia of the illustrious gave special distinction to the living room of Huston's home away from home in Ireland.
"Several years ago," he recalled, "Orson told me he had an idea for a film and he'd like to have me do it. I automatically said yes. But I didn't get the script he said he would send me. Some time passed and I heard he was making the film." Huston shrugged massive shoulders. "I assumed the picture had taken another course and he had given someone else the role we'd talked of earlier. But not at all. "He had been doing the other half of duologues with various people— Lili Palmer, for one—in Switzerland, in Turkey, in God-knows-where. Afterward, much later, I filled in my half of the dialogue. "Some scenes I did with the company on location in Arizona. There was a big birthday party being given for the director I play. It's assumed that he's on top of the world. Actually, the rug has been pulled out from under him. And he hasn't got the money to finish his film."
What happens is told through a number of cameras—surrogates for eavesdroppers. Depending on which cameras were shooting, the film goes from one technique to another, from color photography to black-and-white and back again to color, as The Other Side of the Wind recounts both a story and the story of a story. "A very novel and excellent way of creating a film," Huston commented. His long cigar became a conductor's baton marking the echo of remembered pleasures. "It was a marvelous experience. I had a wonderful time. Orson was just at his best—which is a hell of a big thing to say.
"What does the title The Other Side of the Wind mean?" He pondered a moment, finally shook his head. "I'm not at all sure what it means." Nor was Susan. The dark-eyed actress had just returned to her San Fernando Valley home after sitting in on a session of Barbra Streisand with Susan's father. Lee Strasberg. ("Terrific," reported Susan.) Wearing bright yellow, sharply tailored pants and a sweater of soft, cloudy blue. Susan curled up on a sofa in her rose-laden living room. Every blossom had been cut from her own gardens, which are at the end of a little lane lined with orange trees. Nibbling a late luncheon salad, she gently separated the petals of dozens of overblown blossoms—red, white, yellow, pink—to be dried and used in fragrant pomander balls. "I haven't the vaguest idea what The Other Side of the Wind means." Susan ventured a speculative "Maybe it just amused Orson to think that people might try to figure out some esoteric meaning for his title. He's a deep, serious person, but he also has a wicked sense of humor. "One day while we were shooting at Cave Creek, Arizona, he spotted some kind of a road sign with a cross on it. He immediately wanted it put in the middle of the shot. One of the men on the set complained, 'But Orson, it has nothing to do with the scene. What does the sign mean?' Orson answered, 'Oh, absolutely nothing. But Pauline Kael will spend six paragraphs describing what it's supposed to represent."
As a director-actor—or actor-director—who has himself directed actor-director—or director-actor—Orson Welles, John Huston is singularly equipped to understand and deal with the dualities involved. To a degree, the director hosts within himself the qualities and character of the philosopher. The actor, on the other hand, is best fulfilled as activist. For him, doing is living. "When you direct," Huston settled confidently into a solid position of objectivity, "you stand back, of course. You detach yourself from the scene. Look at everything critically. That detachment is required. "But when you're being an actor, why, you're right in there." He laughed. "You are thinking primarily of yourself. Acting is a very selfish profession. The more one thinks about himself, the better the acting is likely to be. Actors are exhibitionists anyway."
Exhibitionists? What about all our shy actors? The ones who say they don't like to expose themselves, so they hide in the characters they play. They really are shy, aren't they? "Oh, yes." Huston's eyes twinkled and crinkled. "I've known many shy actors. They've learned to be shy!" A schizophrenic thing? "Well, that's true, too. There are two sides to everything. But I don't think an actor has to submerge himself into another character so much as he has to be able to construct another character. "Strutting one's stuff." His hearty laugh rang out and he raised an admonitory hand. "That's a generality."
To be continued...