Husbands
"Mr. Cassavetes is unquestionably sympathetic to the rootless state of the middle-American housewife."
— Nora Sayre, in her Oct 14, 1974 review of A Woman Under the Influence for the New York Times

"Mr. Cassavetes is unquestionably sympathetic to the rootless state of the middle-American housewife."

— Nora Sayre, in her Oct 14, 1974 review of A Woman Under the Influence for the New York Times

Throughout his life, Cassavetes was known for his wild-man   behavior. He was delightfully nutty, and impetuous and impulsive to a   fault. He seemed capable of doing or saying anything to anyone, utterly   fearless and heedless of consequences. Sometimes the nuttiness   manifested itself as a stunt or a prank – like the time he chained   himself to radiator at CBS to attempt to force them to give him a   walk-on in You Are There or got mad at a receptionist and faked   an appendicitis in her office (refusing to give up the ruse, even when   the paramedics showed up) or deliberately made a scene in public just  to  see how people would react. This was the actor who, after all, if he   found himself with a spare hour or two on his hands, would ride uptown   in the bus loudly crying the whole way, and then downtown loudly   laughing, just to see how people responded. Or (in anticipation of   Seymour Moskowitz) approached women on the street he had never seen   before, insisting he knew them from high school or college, trying to   pick them up. Half of his friends thought he was nuts; the other half   adulated him, since even simply going into a bar with him became a kind   of street theater – Cassavetes would do something completely demented, a   crowd would gather, and craziness would ensue. And Cassavetes ate it   up. He was a born clown who loved to the center of attention (in fact   demanded to be). He was a Svengali with women. A guru with men. And took   full advantage of the power that accrued.
He   turned life into fun and games. Of course the game was often not funny   for those who were its victims. The years he was trying to make it as an   actor are full of examples. There was the time a casting director   rejected him for a part because “no one would believe you as a   murderer,” and Cassavetes returned to his office a few hours later with a   gun and threatened his life: “You don’t believe I can be a murderer?   You don’t think I can kill you? I’ll show you.” The young actor wasn’t   smiling and the agent was so terrified he broke into tears.
— From  an interview with Ray Carney on John Cassevetes, pictured above with Peter Falk in Mikey and Nicky (1976, dir. Elaine May)
(via zenthing)

Throughout his life, Cassavetes was known for his wild-man behavior. He was delightfully nutty, and impetuous and impulsive to a fault. He seemed capable of doing or saying anything to anyone, utterly fearless and heedless of consequences. Sometimes the nuttiness manifested itself as a stunt or a prank – like the time he chained himself to radiator at CBS to attempt to force them to give him a walk-on in You Are There or got mad at a receptionist and faked an appendicitis in her office (refusing to give up the ruse, even when the paramedics showed up) or deliberately made a scene in public just to see how people would react. This was the actor who, after all, if he found himself with a spare hour or two on his hands, would ride uptown in the bus loudly crying the whole way, and then downtown loudly laughing, just to see how people responded. Or (in anticipation of Seymour Moskowitz) approached women on the street he had never seen before, insisting he knew them from high school or college, trying to pick them up. Half of his friends thought he was nuts; the other half adulated him, since even simply going into a bar with him became a kind of street theater – Cassavetes would do something completely demented, a crowd would gather, and craziness would ensue. And Cassavetes ate it up. He was a born clown who loved to the center of attention (in fact demanded to be). He was a Svengali with women. A guru with men. And took full advantage of the power that accrued.

He turned life into fun and games. Of course the game was often not funny for those who were its victims. The years he was trying to make it as an actor are full of examples. There was the time a casting director rejected him for a part because “no one would believe you as a murderer,” and Cassavetes returned to his office a few hours later with a gun and threatened his life: “You don’t believe I can be a murderer? You don’t think I can kill you? I’ll show you.” The young actor wasn’t smiling and the agent was so terrified he broke into tears.

— From an interview with Ray Carney on John Cassevetes, pictured above with Peter Falk in Mikey and Nicky (1976, dir. Elaine May)

(via zenthing)

…Love scores an altogether unreasonable triumph over common sense in Minnie and Moskowitz, the new comedy by John Cassavetes. The movie is sort of a fairy tale, Cassavetes says; it’s dedicated to all the people who didn’t marry the person they should have. It is a movie on the side of love, and it is one of the finest movies of the year.
— Roger Ebert, in his February 14, 1972 review of Minnie and Moskowitz (1972)

…Love scores an altogether unreasonable triumph over common sense in Minnie and Moskowitz, the new comedy by John Cassavetes. The movie is sort of a fairy tale, Cassavetes says; it’s dedicated to all the people who didn’t marry the person they should have. It is a movie on the side of love, and it is one of the finest movies of the year.

— Roger Ebert, in his February 14, 1972 review of Minnie and Moskowitz (1972)

That’s Paul Newman behind the camera on the set of his directorial debut Rachel, Rachel (1968) starring his wife Joanne Woodward. I was a bit disappointed with this film upon viewing this over the holidays. I was hoping for more of a Cassavetes vibe, but Newman (truly one of my favorite actors) simply didn’t have the soul to make it work. Makes me question whether there’s a difference between actor’s intellect and director’s intellect. My gut says there is. I’m going to seek out his second directorial effort Sometimes A Great Notion (1970) next to see if he found his way.

That’s Paul Newman behind the camera on the set of his directorial debut Rachel, Rachel (1968) starring his wife Joanne Woodward. I was a bit disappointed with this film upon viewing this over the holidays. I was hoping for more of a Cassavetes vibe, but Newman (truly one of my favorite actors) simply didn’t have the soul to make it work. Makes me question whether there’s a difference between actor’s intellect and director’s intellect. My gut says there is. I’m going to seek out his second directorial effort Sometimes A Great Notion (1970) next to see if he found his way.

There’s no other American director who can do what John Cassavetes does on the screen. There may not be many who would want to. Mr. Cassavetes’s work, in Love Streams, as in his earlier films, is as overflowing with emotional constructs as it is barren of other forms of thought. It’s excessive and idiosyncratic all the way. Yet Mr. Cassavetes, as both actor and director, is never without his own peculiar magnetism and authority. Once again, he is able to galvanize a long, rambling, quirky psychodrama through sheer force of personality. 
— Janet Maslin for New York Times, in her August 24, 1984 review of Cassavetes’ last great film

There’s no other American director who can do what John Cassavetes does on the screen. There may not be many who would want to. Mr. Cassavetes’s work, in Love Streams, as in his earlier films, is as overflowing with emotional constructs as it is barren of other forms of thought. It’s excessive and idiosyncratic all the way. Yet Mr. Cassavetes, as both actor and director, is never without his own peculiar magnetism and authority. Once again, he is able to galvanize a long, rambling, quirky psychodrama through sheer force of personality. 

— Janet Maslin for New York Times, in her August 24, 1984 review of Cassavetes’ last great film

Like a Time Machine Powered by Bicycles wrote a nice piece on this release of John Cassavetes’ Faces soundtrack.

Like a Time Machine Powered by Bicycles wrote a nice piece on this release of John Cassavetes’ Faces soundtrack.

 
I’ve always been able to work with anybody that doesn’t want success. Jazz musicians don’t want success… They have these little tin weapons — they don’t shoot. They don’t go anywhere. The jazz musician doesn’t deal with the structured life — he just wants that night , like a kid.
— John Cassavetes

I’ve always been able to work with anybody that doesn’t want success. Jazz musicians don’t want success… They have these little tin weapons — they don’t shoot. They don’t go anywhere. The jazz musician doesn’t deal with the structured life — he just wants that night , like a kid.

— John Cassavetes

John Cassavetes &  Ben Gazzara in the Cassavetes classic Husbands (1970).

John Cassavetes &  Ben Gazzara in the Cassavetes classic Husbands (1970).

(via zamboni)

John Cassavetes’ woman under the influence