Gena on John

>> Gena Rowlands on her fantastic cinematic
collaborations with late husband John Cassavetes, the maverick American filmmaker

by MATTHEW HAYS

Gena Rowlands’ voice sounds strikingly familiar over the phone. I can almost hear her reciting lines from movies I practically have memorized. Like the working-class housewife losing her sanity in A Woman Under the Influence. Or the lonely, lovelorn Minnie in Minnie and Moskowitz. Or the hardened moll in the Oedipal gangster movie Gloria.

Yes, Rowlands has had other roles—including in films by Woody Allen, Jim Jarmusch and Terence Davies—but she definitely reached her greatest complexity and ingenuity as an actor in her incredible collaborations with husband John Cassavetes, the late maverick filmmaker. And it’s hard to shake the feeling that I’m talking to someone I know—intimately—seeing as the roles she created were so raw and so realistically captured.
After the two met in the late ’50s, they soon fell in love and were wed. After his directorial debut, the groundbreaking Shadows in ’61, Cassavetes then proceeded to make two studio-backed films, which, while financially rewarding, were not artistically pleasing to the filmmaker. He returned to his improvisatory style with Faces (’68), which emerged as a serious box-office success as well as a critical one. Cassavetes and Rowlands continued to make films together in a truly unique style; actors and director would work closely together as an ensemble, sometimes for months longer than average film shoots. His films inspired respect, if wildly divergent opinions. Of Faces, New Yorker critic Pauline Kael wrote: “Cassavetes’ method is peculiar in that its triumphs and its failures are not merely inseparable from the method but often truly hard to separate from one another. The acting that is so bad it’s embarrassing sometimes seems also to have revealed something, so we’re forced to reconsider our notions of good and bad acting.”

Despite his reputation within the industry, Cassavetes had trouble securing funding for his decidedly experimental movies. He and Rowlands often went to work as actors for other directors to make a few extra bucks to put towards their own projects.

Cassavetes played as hard as he worked. A hard drinker and heavy smoker, he died in ’89 at the age of 59 of complications from cirrhosis of the liver. Both sadly and typically, many of the greatest accolades for the filmmaker have come since he died. This month, Montreal’s Cinéma du Parc will screen a cross-section of his best works in brand new prints. The Mirror spoke with Rowlands about her late husband, their work together and the improvisatory acting style they developed that has had such an influence.

Playing favourites

Mirror: Is there a favourite Cassavetes film for you?

Gena Rowlands: For me, it was A Woman Under the Influence. But you know, I switch over. It depends on what day you ask me. I loved Opening Night because that’s where I’m coming from. We tried very hard to show people who hadn’t been in the theatre what really goes on—to take them right onto the stage with us. That feeling of looking at that great big audience, the thrill of it, the fear of disappointing them. All the things that go along with acting.

M: Did John have a favourite?

GR: He said Shadows would always be his favourite because that was his first one.

M: You’ve worked with so many different directors, among them Woody Allen, Lasse Halstrom and Paul Mazursky. What made John stand out as a director?

GR: You have to consider the time we were doing it in. Movies were very regulated and there were so many stipulations. John shot with a very small crew and we were all actors. We all did everything. The actors were supreme to John. On other sets, even though the actors would get a lot of money and a lot of billing, as far as really acting and trying to get really into your character, you had to worry about lights, sound, your mark. Those things were always more important on those films. Not with John. The focus puller was the biggest hero on our set because we were very free to move where we wanted to. We never hit any marks. He created a lot of lighting that would allow us to move where we wanted to. And then we wore body microphones, which were very new in those days and very clumsy, and sometimes the quality of the sound was off, but usually only soundmen notice that.

M: That must have been liberating. It must have given you a lot of physical freedom…

GR: It gave us a great deal of physical freedom to move. We could do long takes and we could get into it. There was nobody ever on our sets who was reading trade papers or talking about selling real estate. The atmosphere was totally for the picture.
Another thing that he did that was really different and that was contrary to what we were taught at the time, was that he never allowed an actor to talk to another actor about their role. You could talk about anything else, but John felt that your character belonged to you. And he wouldn’t answer questions about it either. He’d say, “Look, I wrote it, the character is yours, you know more than anyone does about it now, including me. If you’ve got a problem, figure it out, just as you would in life.” It gave a great excitement, because when you got on the set, you never knew what any of the actors were going to do. It created a very electric feeling between all of us.

Breaking away from the script

M: I’ve read varying reports about how much of the films were improvised and how much of them were scripted…

GR: Shadows was entirely improvised. And he didn’t like some of it, and he shot some of it over again, but it still wasn’t written. They would improvise until they liked what they got for the scene and then they’d shoot it. Now with the rest of the pictures they got increasingly scripted as time went on. Yet there’s some improvisation in all of them. When a situation lends itself to improvisation, it would happen.

M: Can you give me an example of when John would employ improvisation?

GR: The last picture we did together was Love Streams. There’s a place where the wife is dealing with her husband leaving her. She calls her son and husband to her place. She’s decided they don’t have any joy in their life. The script read: “She goes up to them and makes them laugh.” I said, “What’s that John?” He said, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll just improvise it.” I said, “What?! What’s going on?” He said, “Don’t worry about it, I don’t want to ruin the surprise for you. You’ll be wonderful!”
So it came closer to the shoot and I was getting hysterical. And that day he wouldn’t even let me come out of my dressing room. He said, “It’s going to be so much fun, you’re going to be so glad you didn’t know!” I said, “I beg to differ, I want to know something about it.”

M: How did the scene play itself out?
GR: I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Finally they came and got me, and the actors playing my husband and son were under the tree and I have a big picnic table with a bunch of gag gifts, like chattering teeth, you know, from those joke stores. And John said, “Look at this! Make ’em laugh!” So I just wildly started ad libbing and trying to make them laugh. And of course he had told the other actors not to laugh. Which of course they wouldn’t, they would be plenty sore with me. I finally gave up. [laughs] After the take John turned to me and said, “Wasn’t that fun? Wasn’t that terrific? Didn’t you love that?” And I said, “Actually, I did!”

M: That’s a very poignant scene.

When improv gets messy

GR: Thank you. There are a lot of odd stories like that. In that same movie John played my brother, and I decide that he needed something to love. So I go and buy him a pet. But I got two miniature horses, a few ducks, and various other animals. We drove up to the side of the house and opened the car door and all these animals came out and it was like the circus or something, and he said, well, bring ’em in. He thought I’d go around the house, but instead I went in the front door with this parade of animals. We marched through the house. But these miniature horses may be miniature, but they’re horses, and by the time we got through the house, we had a lot of poop in the place. We had to re-carpet the entire house after the film was over. But that’s the amazing thing about improvisation. Each person will do things 10 different ways—everyone is different.

M: Was he ever disappointed by the responses to his films?

GR: I know there are certain people, especially one professor in particular, who think that John was unhappy with reactions to his work. But I don’t think John cared. He loved it when someone loved his work, of course. But we weren’t working as part of a system, nor were we working against a system. We didn’t care what they were doing. I can’t tell you how fun it was, for all of us. I never saw John depressed. I did see him very angry, but never depressed.

M: What made him angry?

GR: Oh, you know, fools. He never felt unappreciated though. He felt very happy to be able to do whatever he wanted. More than anyone I know, John had his life just about the way he wanted it.

M: His work methods sound extreme. Were there ever times where you thought, “God, I love this guy, but sometimes he’s a bit over the top”?

GR: Maybe I’m a bit over the top too. It always seemed so natural to me. [Laughs] I thought everyone else was strange.

M: Many regard you as one of the most significant and influential screen actors who’s ever worked in the medium. Are there any actors who you particularly admire?

GR: Lots of ’em. I love Meryl Streep. Hey, if I start naming people I like, do you know how many people will be mad at me because I forgot to name them?

M: Are there directors that you admire today, people you’d like to work with?

GR: I tend to like the same people that other people like. I like Lars von Trier very much. I’d love to do another picture with my son, Nick [who directed Rowlands in Unhook the Stars]. He’s one of the greatest in the world.

M: There is so much to learn from watching the films you and John collaborated on. If there is one main lesson for young filmmakers to learn from Cassavetes, what might it be?

GR: Do what you want to. Do what really makes you think. If you love your work, every day is easy. It’s not hard. No matter that it’s hard for other people. If you love it and wake up and are dying to get out of bed to do it, there’s no topping that. John lived by that. :

The John Cassavetes retrospective begins on Friday, Feb. 15 at Cinéma du Parc. More information on Cassavetes is available at
www.cassavetes.com

The Gena files

>> Rowlands on a few of her favourite films

Faces (1968)

M: I read that Faces meant six months solid of shooting. That must be unprecedented. I think that Kubrick was the only other director who would spend quite so long just shooting.

GR: You have to remember that our movies sometimes took a while. We would run out of money and then go out and act in another movie just to make some money. I didn’t realize Faces took so long. But that was one of the first ones that we did—so that’s probably why it took so long. We would go off and do something or John would bash out a script for some extra money.

Minnie and Moskowitz (1971)

GR: I find that a lot of young people now love that picture. They relate to it. It’s examining a lot of problems that they have. I think that John was the first one to really examine just how much films impact on our lives. How we are shaped to think what someone should look like, and how they should act, and that’s who we want to fall in love with, and so on. Films are very influential in our lives and then when it comes down to facing reality, I think a lot of people are stunned by it. That’s part of what that movie is about.

A Woman Under the Influence (1974)

M: Were there any reactions to specific films that surprised you?

GR: Well, I must say that A Woman Under the Influence surprised me a lot. It was just such a painful picture to sit through. It didn’t have any young people in it. There were a couple of people who’d seen the script and wondered who would care about this crazy middle-aged dame, you know? We didn’t care, we did it anyway. I never thought 100 people would see it. But we would have had the pleasure of having done it. When it became a huge success it was truly shocking—one of the biggest surprises of my life.

Opening Night (1977)

M: There’s a haunting scene in the film where a fan dies in a car accident and then you attend her funeral, but you’re clearly not welcome. How did you prepare for that?

GR: That part is so close to my life, as I’ve always been an actress. To have something like this happen to someone who wanted to be like you, it’s crushing. It’s embarrassing, the scene, because no one wants you there but you feel compelled to show up. So that was how I approached that. It was as difficult to act as it is to watch.

Gloria (1980)

GR: John didn’t really like Gloria. We couldn’t get Opening Night out of the lab because we didn’t have any money. Streisand wanted a script. John said he’d write it. First, he said to me, “I can’t think of anything to write.” I said, “I’d like to work with a child.” He said, “Okay, that’s all I need.” Then he wrote it and got the money to get our print out of the lab. Then Streisand said she didn’t want to do it because it’s a maternal kind of thing and she felt she was too young for that and that her audience didn’t see her that way. They called him and said, “John, we’re doing it and you’re directing.” And he said, “I’m not doing it, that’s not my kind of movie.” And I said, “John, I love that part, I want to do it.” And he said, “It’s just an action fantasy movie.” And I said, “Please, I really want to do it.” So we did it. He never really liked that film. But I love it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was that he favoured more complicated films. [Rowlands would win her second Oscar nomination for the performance]. :

—Matthew Hays