I'm clearly getting old. It produced exactly the same effect on me that Woody Allen/Diane Keaton films have on me recently, which is that people grow old but they don't grow up, i.e Woody Allen and J. Cassavetes I suppose. It creates such a sense of futile, relentless hysteria that I gave up about 10 minutes before the end, which is a funny time to give up, clearly.....
Ce mélange de drame social et de comédie romantique azimutée n'est pas toujours bien équilibré, son humour noir se met parfois à patiner… mais Gena Rowlands et Seymour Cassel réussissent presque à faire oublier ces défauts. Les seconds rôles - dont Cassavetes lui-même - sont également de haute volée. Comme toujours, l'iconoclaste américain donne à voir des paumés hystériques avec une empathie joyeuse et assez unique.
'movies are a conspiracy. They set you up from the time you were a little kid to believe in ideals and strength and good guys and romance and of course, love. Love… So, you believe it. You go out. You start looking. Doesn’t happen and you keep looking... It doesn't exist. That’s the truth. But the movies set you up and no matter how bright you are, you believe it'
This disturbing movie is occasionally funny, overwhelmed as the laughs are by the depressing (not just saddening) ambiance. From a misstress-beater to a joyful, likable harasser, she goes, in between spirits, as a fragile object that can be taken in the hand, and let go of. That ending is stuck in your throat as the promise of further loneliness, this time vowed to and without the cherishable blessings it usually has
Love Cassavetes, but I'm on the fence. Its central thesis is in praise of togetherness, on how a happy family can be started from having nothing in common and from a drive that has as much to do with desperation as with love. So it's less a love story than a blind hope story, meaning that the relationship of the two leads is (probably by intent) hard to grasp. Any love they have for each other is purely theoretical.
I find it a bit far-fetched to dedicate this one to ''everyone who didn't marry the person they should have'', as only the trademark L.A. blond seemed to have settled for less here, introduced to nothing but sketchy weirdos. Still, their seemingly improvised monologues can make it a fun watch if you ignore they are nothing but violent persuasion of their forever-lost case.
Minnie and Moskowitz started off so strong (the drinking scene between Minnie and Florence alone is worth the watch) but about an hour in my tolerance for Seymour Cassel's character just completely gave out until between him and the dopey and sappy ending I just couldn't take it anymore. Despite this, the scene with Zelmo was hysterically awkward. "Look at your eyes, they're so moist!" -- a riot!