In many ways, the
filmic career of independent filmmaking legend John Cassavetes is the
polar opposite of someone like Alfred Hitchcock, the consummate studio
director. Where Hitchcock infamously treated his actors as cattle,
Cassavetes sought to work with them improvisationally. Where every
element in a Hitchcock shot is composed immaculately, Cassavetes cared
less for the way a scene was figuratively composed than in how it felt,
or what it conveyed, emotionally. Hitchcock�s tales were always
plot-first narratives, with the human element put in the background.
Cassavetes put the human experience forefront in every one of his films.
If some things did not make much sense logically, so be it.
The third arc forms
the emotional core of the film, and is the storyline most discussed
about this film, although in terms of screen time it is Benny who would
seem to be the most important character of the three siblings.
Light-skinned Lelia is the typical artsy babe that anyone who has spent
time going to galleries, exhibits, or readings, knows all too well. If a
male, you know her kind is poison. She is pretty, smart (but not nearly
as smart as she thinks), an aspiring artist (painter or novelist - she
cannot decide), and thus the perfect cock-tease. After hooking up with
the self-assured Tony, she dumps the nebbish her brothers set her up
with, and embarks on a one night stand at Tony�s place, thinking she�s
in love. It turns out she was a virgin, and Tony her first lover.
Much critical
comment on the film�s supposed �brilliance� centers around Lelia�s
admission to Tony that his penetration of her was �awful�. She states,
�I never imagined it could be so awful,� and some see this as a credo.
Far from it. Yes, this was a daring thing to even approach back then,
much less state, but it is not about sexual politics, and has not held
up that well through the years. What most critics miss in this admission
of Lelia is something far more cogent, which does hold up even to this
day, and that is that Lelia�s declaration is not born out of some grand
political need to transform society, but merely a part of the overall
psychotic reaction the cock-teasing and self-centered Lelia has when
Tony wants to continue their lovemaking, declaring his love for her
after one date. She turns cold, demanding, almost manically depressive
and suicidal. Men in the arts world have all been here before, and what
Cassavetes captures on film brilliantly distills the masochistic and
immature nature that most artistic women tend to revel in, to the point
of questioning whether she now �belongs� to Tony.
That some myopic
critics have taken this rather obvious portrayal of an artsy babe�s
instability as Cassavetes making a �statement� only shows their
limitations in life and art. In looking over old reviews of the film I
came across this: �Cassavetes had the audacity not only to show us an
unmarried couple post-coital but to suggest a young woman�s sexual
initiation could be something other than a romantic ideal, is and
continues to be a stunning commitment to the truth in a cinema whose
established categories are designed to avoid the messy, uncomfortable
parts of life.� Bullshit! This is just the sort of nonsense
that bad critics fob off as deep analysis to impress others. Were this
true, Lelia would be far more self-aware than we see in the whole film,
and that scene specifically. Far more truthful, cinematically or not,
than any supposed political statement made in that scene is the schizoid
reactions the two lovers have to their intercourse.
Tony, who is not
really artistic - merely a nice, sensitive guy - refuses to let her
leave in her shaken state, and takes her home. There, he discovers that
he has bedded a black girl, when he meets her brothers. Here is where
the film falters, and shows its small budget the most. No man, black or
white, could have sex with a black woman - no matter how light-skinned
and able to �pass� - and not notice the different texture of her pubic
hair. Now, in most films, this point would not be a serious flaw, but
since so many Cassavetes scholars absolutely go nuts over the supposed
authenticity and realism he brings to his films - especially in emotions
and dialogue - this glares at the informed viewer.
It also proves that
Cassavetes, if one is to lump him as a certain sort of director, is not
a naturalist, nor a realist. I would term him a natural
fabulist, in that there are many scenes in many of his films that
simply are not emotionally real nor grounded, but work well within the
contrivance of his films� tales and emotional milieu. In this regard, he
is no more a realist, in this artifice of his art form, than Hitchcock
was in his use of green screens, or Stanley Kubrick in his use of
intricately choreographed scenes or of human grotesques. That so many
critics have bought into his claimed status as a realist, though, does
not so much speak ill of their critical flaws, but so highly of
Cassavetes� art in deceiving the easily gulled.
Lelia�s tale ends
with Hugh banning Tony from seeing his sister, Tony accepting the ban,
for he is conflicted over his feelings, although not a bad guy. In a
terrific scene, Tony weakly tries to offer his excuses to Ben, for why
he can�t see her, after she takes off with Davey. Ben repeats them back
to him, and we see how feeble they are, yet, given this was 1950s New
York, Tony is actually very enlightened; merely a bit of a coward. Lelia
is a worse person, though. She�s a manipulator of men - Davey, Tony, her
brothers - who ultimately meets her match, eventually submitting to the
possibly abusive nature of the domineering Davey, after playing
emotional games with him before they go to a dance. Hugh ends up taking
a train to Chicago, and continuing to dream, while Ben and his pals
wander off into the night. Nothing much has changed in these characters�
lives, as, despite Lelia�s loss of virginity, nothing of any depth
really happens in the film. It ends rather banally, with Ben trundling
off alone in the neon of the Asphalt Jungle, so to speak, with a
title card stating �The film you have just seen was an improvisation.�
Of course, this is manifestly false, as there are many scenes that are
far too complex for any actor to think of spontaneously.
While this film is
better overall than, say, Martin Scorsese�s first film, a decade later,
Who�s That Knocking At My Door? - another tale of failed romance
and frustrated New Yorkers, it has none of the brilliant moments -
acting-wise nor cinematographically - that that film has. It also is not
naturalistic, for naturalism in art is a very difficult thing to
achieve, especially in film, although the 1950s era Manhattan exteriors,
at ground level, are a gem to relive. While Shadows may, indeed,
be an important film in regards to the history of the independent film
circuit, it certainly is nowhere near a great film. Parts of it are
preachy, poorly acted, scenes end willy-nilly, almost like blackout
sketches, and sometimes are cut off seemingly in the middle. All in all
it�s a very sloppy job - especially the atrocious jazz score that is
often out of synch with the rest of the film, as Cassavetes proved that
as a director, at least in his first film, he was a good actor. The only
reason for anyone to see Shadows is because Cassavetes ultimately
got better with later films, and this gives a clue as to his later
working style.
The National Film
Registry has rightly declared this film worthy of preservation as
�culturally significant�. This is all in keeping with the credo of art
Cassavetes long championed, as typified by this quote: �I�ve never
seen an exploding helicopter. I�ve never seen anybody go and blow
somebody�s head off. So why should I make films about them? But I have
seen people destroy themselves in the smallest way. I�ve seen people
withdraw. I�ve seen people hide behind political ideas, behind dope,
behind the sexual revolution, behind fascism, behind hypocrisy, and I�ve
myself done all these things. So I can understand them. What we are
saying is so gentle. It�s gentleness. We have problems, terrible
problems, but our problems are human problems.� That this film is
�culturally significant� is true, but that truth is not synonymous with
its being �artistically significant�. It is in the difference between
these two definitions where great art truly thrives.