“An immense thrust of passion coupled with formidable will-power, such was the man.”
“In Spite of his admiration for the ardent Phenomena of life, never can Eugene Delacroix be confused with that mob of vulgar artists and writers whose myopic intelligence shelters behind that vague and obscure Word realism”
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE
When John Cassavettes chose to shoot Faces in 16 mm film and using a hand-held camera, he was not thinking of an aesthetic proposal. Rather, what he had in mind was a different dynamic in the praxis of filmmaking; one that held acting as its priority —it was raw emotion that had to be found. Lighting was to be done in a way that left the most space for the free movement of the actors. This search for unencumbered feeling could not be done in an expensive production, both because Cassavettes did not have enough capital and because of the professional and legal obstacles that money imposes over cinema. The aesthetic trend that surged from these very mundane impediments was purely an accident.
The film’s impact on the aesthetic of current cinema can be seen everywhere. In works as diverse as The Bourne Identity, the latest installment in the Harry Potter series, and Iñarritú’s 21grams, the signature of Casssavettes appears in one form or another — dirty photography, use of a constantly moving hand-held camera, intense and emotional actoral performances and grainy images. What were originally practical limitations in the genesis of the work have become ends consciously sought after.
Today more than ever, film seems to pursue an ideal of realism. The expressive use of light is limited to the representation of the space or situation of the scene as realistically as possible. Fiction films are oftentimes constructed to look like documentaries. Before video cameras were accessible for families to record birthdays and vacations, the practical limitations of films like Faces had discovered the aesthetic of video “realism”. One could even define Faces as a fictional documentary of private life.
Perhaps these notions of filmic realism began with Cassavettes. In his films, many of the formal signs of classical cinema —transparent framing, composition, camera movement— only found their meaning and strength after the moment of execution. Cassavettes was known for shooting ridiculous amount of film for scenes that could end up being very brief afterwards—something that the high cost of 35 mm film would have made impossible. Cassavettes is different from all his predecessors because his expressive priorities are inverted: “I never adjust the camera to the scenes, but the scenes to the camera”. Cassavettes is different from his present imitators because he had the privilege of accident.
Despite the film’s outer appearance of realism, a close viewing of Faces will inevitably reveal many errors in continuity, unjustified uses of light, rapid changes in mood of the characters and a frequent descent towards abstraction. Objective reality does not exist in cinema. If the films of Cassavettes tell us much about his overflowing emotions and pain it is because he shows us the world through the filter of his subjective glance. The fact that we experience intense emotion from a believable source does not necessarily mean that we are being exposed to an objective portrait of human experience. The emotional impact of Cassavettes films stems not from the accuracy of their portrayal of reality —rather, it is the result of extreme sensibility and skill working together. This combination of acute perception and technical talent is nothing less than the true nature of artistic genius.
¿What is it then that makes the films of this man seem so much like life? John Cassavettes was a passionate man. The shooting of Faces began in 1963, but the film was not premiered until 1968. More than a creative adventure, the moviemaking process was a battle. Two of the actresses, including his wife, were pregnant. Financial difficulties forced the director to mortgage his home, do side jobs as an actor in films he despised, and relentlessly beg for money everywhere. He was forced to have the editor of the film move into his garage. Chronically unsatisfied, Cassavettes did many versions of the film, even inviting random people on the street to watch a scene and give their opinion. Cassavettes needed to be able to change everything from one moment to the next. All of these factors, among many others, contributed to make the production and post-production of Faces a creative process of five years. The emotions of Faces are fueled with the passion of a group of men and women who put blood, sweat, and tears throughout seemingly endless years to get the film made. The result of their hard work is tangible proof that, if cinema is to be different, the process by which it is made must also be different.
The realism of the films of today is nothing more than a trend. With each day that passes, the art of cinema moves closer and closer to the unneutered entertainment of television. Personality and originality are disdained. In their stead, a cheap illusion of realism is fed to mindless audiences, who usually have a steep archive of cinematic references and will take nothing other than what they have learnt to expect.
If film continues down this homogenizing road, if filmmakers continue to be feeble imitators of a non-existent concept, creativity will either disappear completely or be vanished to the realm of extreme intellectuality. If things continue as they are, the general audience will become progressively more intolerant to new ways, leaving the greatest invention of modernity —cinema, that beautiful mechanical art, filled with as many glorious flaws as the broken men and women who fathered it— dim and forgotten, or worse, transformed into mere moving images.
Sincerely,
SEMV
The film’s impact on the aesthetic of current cinema can be seen everywhere. In works as diverse as The Bourne Identity, the latest installment in the Harry Potter series, and Iñarritú’s 21grams, the signature of Casssavettes appears in one form or another — dirty photography, use of a constantly moving hand-held camera, intense and emotional actoral performances and grainy images. What were originally practical limitations in the genesis of the work have become ends consciously sought after.
Today more than ever, film seems to pursue an ideal of realism. The expressive use of light is limited to the representation of the space or situation of the scene as realistically as possible. Fiction films are oftentimes constructed to look like documentaries. Before video cameras were accessible for families to record birthdays and vacations, the practical limitations of films like Faces had discovered the aesthetic of video “realism”. One could even define Faces as a fictional documentary of private life.
Perhaps these notions of filmic realism began with Cassavettes. In his films, many of the formal signs of classical cinema —transparent framing, composition, camera movement— only found their meaning and strength after the moment of execution. Cassavettes was known for shooting ridiculous amount of film for scenes that could end up being very brief afterwards—something that the high cost of 35 mm film would have made impossible. Cassavettes is different from all his predecessors because his expressive priorities are inverted: “I never adjust the camera to the scenes, but the scenes to the camera”. Cassavettes is different from his present imitators because he had the privilege of accident.
Despite the film’s outer appearance of realism, a close viewing of Faces will inevitably reveal many errors in continuity, unjustified uses of light, rapid changes in mood of the characters and a frequent descent towards abstraction. Objective reality does not exist in cinema. If the films of Cassavettes tell us much about his overflowing emotions and pain it is because he shows us the world through the filter of his subjective glance. The fact that we experience intense emotion from a believable source does not necessarily mean that we are being exposed to an objective portrait of human experience. The emotional impact of Cassavettes films stems not from the accuracy of their portrayal of reality —rather, it is the result of extreme sensibility and skill working together. This combination of acute perception and technical talent is nothing less than the true nature of artistic genius.
¿What is it then that makes the films of this man seem so much like life? John Cassavettes was a passionate man. The shooting of Faces began in 1963, but the film was not premiered until 1968. More than a creative adventure, the moviemaking process was a battle. Two of the actresses, including his wife, were pregnant. Financial difficulties forced the director to mortgage his home, do side jobs as an actor in films he despised, and relentlessly beg for money everywhere. He was forced to have the editor of the film move into his garage. Chronically unsatisfied, Cassavettes did many versions of the film, even inviting random people on the street to watch a scene and give their opinion. Cassavettes needed to be able to change everything from one moment to the next. All of these factors, among many others, contributed to make the production and post-production of Faces a creative process of five years. The emotions of Faces are fueled with the passion of a group of men and women who put blood, sweat, and tears throughout seemingly endless years to get the film made. The result of their hard work is tangible proof that, if cinema is to be different, the process by which it is made must also be different.
The realism of the films of today is nothing more than a trend. With each day that passes, the art of cinema moves closer and closer to the unneutered entertainment of television. Personality and originality are disdained. In their stead, a cheap illusion of realism is fed to mindless audiences, who usually have a steep archive of cinematic references and will take nothing other than what they have learnt to expect.
If film continues down this homogenizing road, if filmmakers continue to be feeble imitators of a non-existent concept, creativity will either disappear completely or be vanished to the realm of extreme intellectuality. If things continue as they are, the general audience will become progressively more intolerant to new ways, leaving the greatest invention of modernity —cinema, that beautiful mechanical art, filled with as many glorious flaws as the broken men and women who fathered it— dim and forgotten, or worse, transformed into mere moving images.
Sincerely,
SEMV
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