By Jordan Low
The directorial efforts of John Cassavetes are known not only for having played a huge role in early American independent cinema, but also for being difficult to watch due to their heavy dialogue and strong focus on characters rather than conventional plots. However, it is in this reviewer’s opinion that he managed to strike a perfect balance with Opening Night, his ninth and arguably finest film as director.
Cassavetes’ wife and regular Gena Rowlands plays Myrtle, a popular stage actress. Upon leaving a well-received performance one night, she witnesses the horrific death of a desperate fan trying to get closer to her hero. From then on, Myrtle is tormented by visions as she starts seeing the deceased girl in unexpected places, all while trying to prepare for the huge premiere of an upcoming play.
In most of Cassavetes’ movies, scenes can feel overly long and often appear like they have no relevance to the central plot. Here, the wonderful score by Bo Harwood helps tremendously to keep the pace moving while giving new meaning to a lot of the dialogue. Another directorial trademark is the presence of long, unfiltered scenes of over-the-top laughing and drunkenness, most apparent in Faces (1968) and Husbands (1970). In Opening Night, these scenes are still present but wisely limited to the play-within-the-movie. The artificiality and obnoxiousness of them reinforces the mental drubbing that Myrtle receives each day as she has to tolerate her co-stars shouting and being abusive as part of the play. In one notably unsettling scene, Myrtle receives training on how to slap and get slapped. After a while of this, she breaks down and refuses to get up from the floor, Rowlands and Cassavetes inviting the audience to feel her discomfort with her.
Another brilliant scene occurs towards the middle when Myrtle’s director (Cassavetes regular Ben Gazzara) gives her a long, serious, and ultimately romantic monologue about why Myrtle is so great for this part. Giving no care, she removes her sunglasses to reveal horrific scars and completely ignores the entire monologue by changing the topic. This simple exchange encapsulates Myrtle’s ‘awakening’ to the harsh realities of her world, and stands in sharp contrast to the relatively naive celebrity she is at the beginning of the film.
Apart from being a champion of character development, Cassavetes was an early adopter of filmmaking techniques that are commonplace today. Every hallucination scene feels as modern as anything released this decade, and the shakycam closeups, with half the screen obscured by a blurry object, seem like they come straight from the Bourne trilogy (2002-2007). In keeping with the key theme of subjective reality, arguably the best shot occurs when a few characters first appear to come closer to the screen, before it is later revealed that we have been looking at a reflection in a mirror as the real people come into the frame naturally.
In films like Shadows (1959) and A Woman Under the Influence (1974), Cassavetes explored progressive themes of race and gender with intelligence and empathy. Opening Night continues the trend with the stage acting element of the film representing the literal performative aspect of female emotional labour. In this context, the director played by Gazzara is a perfect encapsulation of the typical entitled man, as instead of listening to her problems, he tries his best to help Myrtle ‘get over it’ for the sake of his play. Additionally, Cassavetes touches on themes of femininity and aging, a running feeling created throughout via character actions and dialogue that suggests they are mutually exclusive in modern society.
While the rough story and themes of Opening Night live on through films such as Satoshi Kon’s brilliant Perfect Blue (1997) and Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan (2010), Cassavetes’ film remains the perfect example of how to effectively portray pressure, both personal and professional, and the tragedy that can arise from it.
Rating: 9.5/10
Opening Night can currently be watched on YouTube here.
MELBOURNE UNIVERSITY FILM INQUIRER 