Note: This is the first in my series of John Cassavetes films that I plan on watching/reviewing before the end of 2012. So please enjoy and feel free to comment below
“I don’t want you to hurt anything of mine”
Cassavetes introduces himself to the world as a filmmaker with this odd experiment of a film that follows the siblings of Ben (Ben Carruthers), Hugh (Hugh Hurd) and Lelia (Lelia Goldoni) and their experiences as African Americans in New York City.
The film’s aim is lost almost immediately as we’re thrust into a world and family of music, Ben being a trumpeter (that we never see play), Hugh being a singer (that we see constantly undercut), and Lelia being the only one not seeking the life as a professional, and we’re scurrying about seeking meaning in the madness of this film. It opens with a scene of Ben and his friends running around the city until they come up a group of women who they decide to impose themselves upon but quickly after it makes that scene null and void barely even acknowledging its existence to allow us to shift to Hugh who’s busy negotiating his terms of employment as a announcer for a group of dancing women at a third-rate club. We’re shoved like this from scene to scene with little to no explanation and it feels as though the film refuses to settle on an idea until at least half way through.
We start to get a clearer picture as to what Cassavetes wants to discuss when the instance of Lelia and her gentleman caller begins to upset her. We see that what the director really wants to shine a light on isn’t the hip world of Jazz in NYC or even life in NYC for the struggling artist and musicians but rather race relations. As we see when Hugh enters the door to walk in on Lelia and her white gentleman caller he quickly attempts to flee the scene as gracefully as possibly which sends Hugh into a mad rage. The film hammers the thought home even harder as we reach the tail end of the film and Ben and his same friends happen upon the same group of ladies from the opening scene and this time are all attacked by white men who’re seemingly upset that they are all taking up the time of these white eligible women.
The film doesn’t make many qualms about its points when it reaches those moments. However, the amount of time it spends trying to get to those points are so poorly spent on Cassavetes attempts to mimic the style of the French New Wave of Truffaut and Godard that he almost doesn’t care. Even when the film ends we see in the credits the film acknowledge that it was a “complete improvisation” as if we – the audience – is being asked to forgive the movie and not look at it too hard other than as a man attempting something new and succeed or fail we should see it as just an experiment. While I was willing to forgive the likes of RZA with what I see as an experiment in The Man With the Iron Fists somehow I’m not willing to make such things be brushed under the rug here.