The real beauty of a Cassavetes film is that he is always driven to portray his stories in the most realistic manner possible, warts and all.
The majority of mainstream cinema is structured to deliver an escapist experience to the movie-going public because that is likely the primary reason why most people go to the movies; to see, hear and experience escapist fantasy. I do not malign such films, nor do I sneer at the people who enjoy them. Indeed, I enjoy an espionage, horror or sci-fi fantasy as much as the next guy. I even enjoy an occasional melodrama (The Seventh Veil, anybody?).
However, when I see a film that deals with the human condition... with everyday people, I much prefer a realistic perspective into their world. After all, mayn't people's lives and situations be compelling enough, if told properly, without escapist gloss and wooden, heavily scripted dialogue? I believe so. This is where Cassavetes shines, and where his influence upon current independent film can most powerfully be recognized.
Cassavetes pacing in this film is what probably drove many critics and viewers to criticize it so harshly. It can move at a snail's pace, especially during the painfully mediocre cabaret sequences (the cabaret owner Cosmo Vitelli is sublimely portrayed by long-time Cassavetes cohort Ben Gazzara). To watch the stumbling, off-key stage performances of the emcee and strippers is like torture, especially given the screen time Cassavetes devotes to their antics. The consequence is, however, that we are transported to a very REAL, very pathetic place in reality. Anything glossier or more skillfully choreographed would shatter the truth of what we see.
People talk over one another, they mumble, they cease to speak when you expect to hear them... But as mundane as these sequences seem, the fact remains that the story would be all the less compelling, were we to see our anti-hero in flashy sequences that synthetically push the story forward, beyond a natural pace that is apropos to the situation.
In the end, you realize that Cosmo (despite his impulsive behavior and seedy lifestyle) is a very real, very likable and very kind human being. He loves, and he is loved. His small entourage of powerless friends love him, and they feel loved. In the final sequence, our hero attains an almost Buddhist-like sense of the inevitability of his fate, the sweetness of the immediate moments of satisfaction that are his last few , his realization that there is, ultimately, nothing to regret except the finite.
The majority of mainstream cinema is structured to deliver an escapist experience to the movie-going public because that is likely the primary reason why most people go to the movies; to see, hear and experience escapist fantasy. I do not malign such films, nor do I sneer at the people who enjoy them. Indeed, I enjoy an espionage, horror or sci-fi fantasy as much as the next guy. I even enjoy an occasional melodrama (The Seventh Veil, anybody?).
However, when I see a film that deals with the human condition... with everyday people, I much prefer a realistic perspective into their world. After all, mayn't people's lives and situations be compelling enough, if told properly, without escapist gloss and wooden, heavily scripted dialogue? I believe so. This is where Cassavetes shines, and where his influence upon current independent film can most powerfully be recognized.
Cassavetes pacing in this film is what probably drove many critics and viewers to criticize it so harshly. It can move at a snail's pace, especially during the painfully mediocre cabaret sequences (the cabaret owner Cosmo Vitelli is sublimely portrayed by long-time Cassavetes cohort Ben Gazzara). To watch the stumbling, off-key stage performances of the emcee and strippers is like torture, especially given the screen time Cassavetes devotes to their antics. The consequence is, however, that we are transported to a very REAL, very pathetic place in reality. Anything glossier or more skillfully choreographed would shatter the truth of what we see.
People talk over one another, they mumble, they cease to speak when you expect to hear them... But as mundane as these sequences seem, the fact remains that the story would be all the less compelling, were we to see our anti-hero in flashy sequences that synthetically push the story forward, beyond a natural pace that is apropos to the situation.
In the end, you realize that Cosmo (despite his impulsive behavior and seedy lifestyle) is a very real, very likable and very kind human being. He loves, and he is loved. His small entourage of powerless friends love him, and they feel loved. In the final sequence, our hero attains an almost Buddhist-like sense of the inevitability of his fate, the sweetness of the immediate moments of satisfaction that are his last few , his realization that there is, ultimately, nothing to regret except the finite.