by Harold Schechter
John Cassavetes occupies a special place in the Men’s Movie Hall of Fame for two indelible performances: the smirking wise-ass Victor Franko of The Dirty Dozen and Guy Woodhouse, the devoted devil-bargaining hubby in Rosemary’s Baby. Great as he was at portraying mobsters, sociopaths, and other rugged specimens, he really saw those gigs as paychecks to bankroll his passion: making small, quirky, intensely personal art movies. If regular guys appreciate Cassavetes’s acting chops, cinephiles admire him as a risk-taking auteur whose aggressively anticommercial dramas created the template for modern indie moviemaking.
Cassavetes’s features have the improvised, home-movie feel of cinema verité. By scorning Hollywood conventions that make films fun to watch — plot, action, polish, entertainment value — Cassavetes made his films something of a chore to sit through. But at their best, they possess a raw immediacy and fearlessness that make for riveting viewing.
Faces (1968), a devastating portrait of a disintegrating marriage, was Cassavetes’s biggest success, garnering three Oscar nods. It’s also the most rewarding. For one thing, Faces stars John Marley, who’s best known for his turn in The Godfather as the studio boss who wakes up to discover his racehorse will not be enjoying the stud life after all. For another, the movie deals with such meaningful issues as getting tanked with your buddies, having arguments with your wife, and seeking solace in the arms of a call girl.
It’s not just the guys who have all the fun: Marley’s wife picks up a younger man, has sex with him, and ends up attempting suicide. Cassavetes’s masterpiece is not exactly a feel-good movie, though its uncompromising bleakness is in itself bracingly unique.
Watch the Faces trailer:
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