Three by Cassavetes

by Ari

In his commentary for Mean Streets, Martin Scorsese cites John Cassavetes as one of his prime inspirations. Many critics, including Roger Ebert, have stated that Cassavetes is the most influential figure in American independent film. Singular vision is what defined the greatest movies of the 60’s, and especially the 70’s, and the films of Cassavetes represent an undeniable pioneer, the stamp of a true original set on challenging the way we watch and think about movies. His films are the very definition of that period of cinema: Daring and ambitious. Cassavetes brought tangible realism to his characters and stories, successfully creating an all-too-real picture of who we are and how we live. The immediacy of his style is a purposeful way of underlining the many adult themes he so effectively portrays. His movies reconstruct the idea of an organized narrative, dismissing all traces of superficial or glamorized Hollywood structure in favor of an unpredictable jazz-like riff on what film is supposed to be. His loose tone and occasionally jarring sensibilities present an unflinching examination of the oddities and difficulties people face in the emotionally chaotic nature of reality. Once you’ve seen a Cassavetes movie, you’ll never forget it, perhaps the most important feat of any great filmmaker.

Faces (1968)

Self-destructiveness through abuse is a reoccurring theme in Cassavetes’ work. It could be the abuse of a dangerous substance or the abuse of money or the abuse of a person, but destructive, often times brutal (whether emotional or violent) tendencies are uncompromisingly explored in his movies. Another reoccurring theme is age, and how growing older and maturing alters perceptions and feelings towards yourself and the people closest to you. This sophistication is what begins to separate Cassavetes from others. He doesn’t waste time with false pretenses or artificiality. Cassavetes hits you with what he knows, and his bravery in delving into startlingly real scenarios is why his movies are so affecting. The realism in Faces, a mesmerizing account of collapsing relationships, is piercing. What I find so fascinating about his movies is that they don’t rely on plot, or rather, aren’t bothered by the standard form of telling a story on film. His movies are a series of moments - moments that explore an emotional and thematic range far deeper and complex than a heavily plot-driven story could ever hope to. Each moment is like a small film of its own, complete with character arcs, conflicts, and resolutions. Pieced together, these moments make for an entirely compelling view of middle-aged American life, in this case, upper-class, wealthy, and crumbling American life.

The prolonged opening sequence is a perfect example of his style. Cassavetes deliberately paces his movies, letting each sequence slowly establish. The opening sequence reveals important details about the characters involved through a long and wild soiree. A successful businessman, Richard (John Marley) and his friend and colleague visit the house of a prostitute named Jeannie (Gena Rowlands), where they get madly drunk and tell stories and talk nonsense. As the sequence progresses, it becomes clear that Richard and Jeannie are affectionate towards each other, despite the fact that he’s married. After many laughs, some dancing, and a few arguments (this sequence has more emotional highs and lows than some entire movies), John and his friend leave her place and head home to their empty and dull lives. John comes home to his wife (Lynn Carlin), a beautiful and intelligent woman, and they have a conversation about sex, marriage, and how their friend commits shameful adultery. She, of course, doesn’t realize the topic of discussion relates directly to John’s situation, and they laugh and make light of the issue. Beneath the laughter is something vacant - a separation, emptiness and lack of warmth. They’re obviously unhappy and suffering, acting a facade in order to respectfully maintain the impression of stability.

Then, suddenly, Richard announces his wish for a divorce, and calls Jeannie professing his love for her as his wife watches. It’s cruel and brutal, and her stunned, silent reaction is heartbreaking. The rest of the film deals with the aftermath. Richard spends the evening with Jeannie and her clients, and his wife goes out with her friends where she experiences her own romantic and sexual possibilities. Each character is given time to develope. Cassavetes lets the characters talk, almost as if he were simply a man following real people in real circumstances with a camera. Not one moment feels staged or forced, a testament to the exceptional performances on display.

Faces is intense and depressing, an unforgettable account of raw emotion and virtuosic filmmaking.

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976)

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie is often regarded as Cassavetes’ masterpiece. His best known film is arguably his most challenging, a slow and gritty drama that only becomes a thriller very late in the story. Great performances can be found in every one of his movies, but this one in particular contains some truly outstanding work. The Killing of a Chinese Bookie isn’t about murder or crime or seedy business, but one man’s pride and how he fights for his dreams against the powerful forces within himself and the people who attempt to control him. Ben Gazzara (a Cassavetes regular) gives his career best performance as Cosmo Vitelli, a strip-club owner who loves his business, his girls, and his many bizarre shows he presents to his customers. When he gambles away an enormous debt to a mafia-owned joint, he’s left with only one way out: Murder a bookie and all debts are paid. The plot contains the simple ingredients of a crime/thriller, but like all of his movies, Cassavetes hardly bothers with it. The debt, the gangsters and the murder represent a looming danger, one that distracts from his life and work, causing unrest and emotional pain. Cosmo wants nothing more than a successful business - a place where people can be entertained by his beautiful women and bizarre comedic antics.

Much of the film takes place in his club, watching the shows he so enthusiastically produces. The women are a part of a routine lead by a character called Mr. Sophistication. Each number contains songs, jokes, maybe even some dance, a strange mix of lounge acts that serve the purpose of tastefully presenting nude women. Cosmo lives and breathes his club, and the idea of losing everything he’s accomplished to ruthless gangsters eats away at him. He’s friendly with everyone involved in his business, caring for them, treated them well, making sure they’re happy and have what they need. Cassavetes spends a considerable amount of time with Cosmo and his girls, one of whom he’s romantically intimate with. Eventually he realizes paying the debt is an impossibility, and that taking the offer and killing the bookie is the only way he can hold onto what he loves. The gangsters are too threatening, powerful and smart to outwit or outrun, so succumbing to their demands is Cosmo’s only option. When the film becomes a thriller, Cassavetes has the confidence to keep his slow pacing and gritty realism. There’s no bombastic, overpowering score underlining the tension. Cassavetes maintains his tone and style, turning what could be standard Hollywood thrills into realistic, even frightening tension. The dirty, constantly zooming and panning cinematography is pure Cassavetes excellence. You are there with Cosmo, following him to hell and back.

One of the best films of the 70’s.

Opening Night (1977)

As previously stated, abuse is a major reoccurring theme in Cassavetes’ work. Opening Night deals with the intense ramifications of serious alcoholism and its effect on an actress who’s life is torn apart when a fan is accidently killed after seeing one of her plays. Gena Rowlands gives arguably her most riveting performance as Myrtle Gordon, the middle-aged star of ‘Second Woman’ a successful drama written by Sarah Goode (the always wonderful Joan Blondell, one of Busby Berkeley’s greatest stars) and directed by Manny Victor (Ben Gazzara), a married man who is attracted to her both professionally and personally. Myrtle is a beautiful woman who’s commanding performance is garnering much praise and recognition from audiences. While she may be at the peak of her professional life, Myrtle dreams of her long-lost youth and gaining back that sense of innocence, energy, and possibility.

Just as the club in Killing of a Chinese Bookie acted as a pivotal character in the overall personality and tone of the story, the play ‘Second Woman’ does the same for Opening Night. Everyone on set loves Myrtle in one way or another, whether’s it’s the producers, director, or her co-stars, including John Cassavetes himself. Cassavetes was as wonderful an actor as he was a director, and his role in Opening Night is tremendous, especially in his rousing, triumphant finale sequence. When Myrtle’s life is turned upside-down after the death of her young fan, she turns to alcohol and suffers the consequences. Her personal life is reduced to hallucinations, emotional anguish, and torment, and her professional life begins to feel the effects. Watching her single-handedly ruin the play for the other actors and producers is particularly aggravating, but just like them, you still care about her despite her faults. In her alcoholic daze, Myrtle begins improvising her role during key moments of the show, bewildering the rest of the cast and the audience. She expresses all of her drunken wishes to be young and strong and happy, destroying the coherence of the play completely.

The cinematography is colorful and lively, a change from the crisp black & white photography of Faces and the dark sleaziness of Killing of a Chinese Bookie. The sense of immediacy and realism remains intact, however. Opening Night is much more energetic than the usual Cassavetes film, effectively conveying Myrtle’s chaotic, unbalanced plight. This is one of his most dramatic features, and easily his most entertaining. A masterwork.