Back in college I took an incredible class taught by Phil Solomon. “Capra, Cassavetes, and Brakhage” looked at three singular American filmmakers and drew connections not obvious. In the years since that class, I have occasionally reread my notes. When I do, I usually find a reminder of why I love film in the first place.
Over the next few weeks I am going to post entries from the viewing journal that I kept during the class. The first is about Cassavetes’
I feel the most notable element of the film is the palpable passion with which it was made. When method acting came into vogue a couple of years earlier, the performances of Brando, Dean, etc, the acting style seemed to be almost a counterpoint to films within which the acting was done. As Carney points out, one of the things that made method actors so interesting was that the actors seemed to be working against the intentions of the film, giving the viewer the sense that they could break out of the screen at any moment. Carney notes this was particularly true in many of Cassavetes’s early performances. This disparity, this tension, between the film and the actor was largely created by the style of the director. Elia Kazan, for example, had a strong theatre background and as a result had a knack for choreography and thought-out mis-en-scene. Look, as well, to Nicolas Ray’s Rebel Without a Cause. Here, Dean seems all the more fragile and dangerous because the steady camera work suggests he exists in a world that should be safe. With Shadows, a new relationship between filmmaking style and “realistic” acting was created. Rather than emphasizing the performances through a countering visual style, Cassavetes matches the actors with camera work that seems equally unmeditated and “ready to explode.”
Of course, there is the important side note that Cassavettes was fighting a small battle against the method approach. Feeling that method acting had become as routine, predictable and unrealistic as the styles the preceded it, he pushed for performances that rang true in other ways. Method actors fell back on various “tricks” to suggest internal struggles, but Cassavetes characters often brought these struggles to the outside world. There is a lot of talking in Shadows. They talk because they are people trying desperately to connect to one another, looking for support, friendship and love. Ben seems to have the closest connection to Brando characters since he is the most determined to keep his problems to himself. Yet when he gets into a fight with his brother, Hugh, everything comes spilling out. Filling the patriarch’s role, Hugh is also determined to never let his family see him down. He puts on a brave face but it is obviously a brave face. Never is Lelia or Ben or Rupert tricked into believing that everything is all right. Rather, they take comfort in knowing Hugh cares so much for them that he’ll pretend that he’s got it under control.
Without doubt, I was most moved by the character of Lelia. In many ways, she was free from the burden of Dean and Brando, given her different gender. This difference meant that any of her similarities didn’t hold the stigma of just being another James Dean impersonation. When she darts her eyes or kicks her foot, there is a sense of reality that could never be achieved by Ben doing the same thing. At the same time, there were a number of characteristics that seemed to make her the most original and authentic of all the characters. While the angry explosions of other characters were underscored by the camerawork, Lelia’s particular experiences shared a different relationship with the formal aspects of the film. This is interesting because her actions, her lines, her movements all seem equally spontaneous as any other character’s but somehow they had a different affect on me as a viewer. I think this is because, much like the tension between Brando and the cinematography in The Wild One, the camerawork and editing in Shadows has a different feel to it than Lelia’s performance. Though both she and the image create that feeling of spontaneity, as a character, Lelia has a sense of refinement. In the little things, like the way she playfully kisses Tony at the party or runs through the park, she is very elegant. The camerawork, meanwhile, feels rough. Compare the feeling created by Lelia’s run through the park to when Ben and his friends run through the statues outside the museum. In the latter, it seems very likely that the camera will be dropped and break at any moment or that one of the “hooligans” will knock over a piece of art. This sense of danger for the camera is still present in Lelia’s scene, but Lelia is never anything less than graceful and certainly won’t break any statues.
Something else that I noticed about Lelia that doesn’t come through as much in the other characters was the importance placed on faces. Somewhere in Cassavetes’ interviews he mentions Dreyer as a favorite filmmaker and even a potential collaborator. There can be no doubt, then, that Cassavetes had seen The Passion of Joan of Arc and was fully aware of the cinematic ability to communicate something deep within a character through the use of a close up. In two of Lelia’s scenes, I found this awareness to be particularly present. In the bedroom scene with Tony the audience Lelia faced the viewer rather than Tony. Aside from the fact that Tony is largely an insensitive playboy, there is another reason that Tony is so out of step with Lelia’s feelings while the audience is so connected to them: she faces the audience instead of Tony. Time and again the words she says aren’t in line with the feelings shown on her face. There is anger in her eyes when she says, “If you love a man you shouldn’t be so frightened” and a hint of uncertainty even as she makes the seemingly certain statement, “There isn’t going to be a next time.” Also in the dance sequence there is a fitting disparity between her words and her face. She has treated her date poorly all night and seems content to continue doing so, but something on her face changes and she is now ready to accept the companionship and understanding that most of the characters have searched for the entire movie.
I also find it interesting that in this dance scene, Cassavetes partially abandons the chaotic styles of the rest of the film. The slightly low angle shot of the dancers and the stationary close up while the couple twirls through the frame would find a fitting spot in what might be called “a quiet Hollywood film.” So much of Shadows is filled with turmoil and tension, but Cassavetes knows that in life there are also moments of peace.