面孔1968

每颗灵魂都有其独特的质地，在这部作品里，卡索维茨给予每一颗灵魂呈现其独一无二面貌的机会，并完整、彻底的释放每一颗灵魂被生活囚困下的欲望和孤独！ 电影有挺多无意识的戏，正中我口味，其实这也是卡索维茨一脉相承的电影特色。在我的理解里，约翰卡索维茨的创作以情感为纽带，聚焦人内心深处的柔软与坚强(某种程度上甚至挖掘其疯狂)，所以这种自由创作经常会陷入一种群体无意识状态，这种状态下，演员对自身存在的觉知和控制力降至最低，然而他们内心驱动的欲望和表达在此次刺激和群体氛围内又回归到最真的状态，这是我特别享受他电影的原因。 看这样的作品我会透过荧幕被拉入一个奇妙电影世界，我便在其中不断发现并直面演员自身内在的一些东西，而不再肤浅的去判断表演和故事，更有意思的是，卡索维茨电影镜头的运用非常精巧、准确，它的捕捉也极为精细，总是触及到电影环境、群体、个体最真实的状态，这个状态下，每个演员的内核是富有魅力，并且超越单纯的表演所触达的表演深度！ 更有意思的是他的戏是连贯的，几乎不存在断离，这非常特别的，与戈达尔的自由创作几乎截然相反。卡索维茨和戈达尔很大程度上具备相似性(即兴、自由)，但二者各有千秋，戈达尔的作品政治性、跳跃性，和剪辑是特色，卡索维茨的自由创作实际上更完全，他的即兴和自由更彻底更完全，在演员的运用上，卡索维茨几乎是顺着演员的质地去导戏，演员也顺着自己的质地去表演，我认为这是对演员最正确的运用方式之一！

影像90分

剧本95分

导演90分

表演95分

创新90分

作品分92分

内容系数0.9

影史分83分

Title: Faces

Year: 1968

Country: USA

Language: English

Genre: Drama

Director/Writer: John Cassavetes

Music: Jack Ackerman

Cinematography: Al Ruban

Cast:

John Marley

Gena Rowlands

Lynn Carlin

Seymour Cassel

Fred Draper

Val Avery

Elizabeth Deering

Gene Darfler

Dorothy Gulliver

Joanne Moore Jordan

Darlene Conley

Rating: 8.0/10

It takes an acquired taste to be comfortably and thoroughly engaged in Cassavetes’ intensely disheartening dramaturgy of bourgeois ennui, FACES isirrefutably a feather in his cup, not in the least for its unsparing cinéma-vérité bravura, one could only imagine watching it in front of a celluloid with those intrusive, sidling über-closeups underlined by that grainy monochrome, how different would it be from anything else in the year of 1968?

Watching in on a TV screen might be a less dizzying experience and it may even lend a helping hand for the audience to become more appreciated of Cassavetes’ scalpel-like dissection of an internecine relationship tangle where no one comes off as unscathed.

The film takes the course roughly within one day, we are peering into the disintegration of a 12-year-old marriage betweenRichard Frost (Marley, who physically resembles an elder version of Cassavetes), a well-off movie financier and his younger wife Maria (Carlin), plus its immediate aftermath. What tickles the idea of divorce into Richard’s mind is another woman, Jeannie Rapp (Rowlands), a classy fille de joie who is tentative by the courtship from one of her patron, whom she might also fall for.Whilst Richard visits Jeannie in her apartment with the presence of her other clients, Maria, pent-up after receiving the bolt from the blue, hangs out with her gal pals in a club and they bring back a young go-go dancer Chet (Cassel) to find some cheap solace, but the problem is always the morning after, does she have the courage to face a new day? What else can a domesticated woman do when she is going to a cast-off?

The story pans out intimately in its interior-exclusive episodes, burnished by what dynamo of a cast, the film galvanizes our attention from A to Z, it is hard to tell whether the dialogue and play-off is semi-improvised or strictly script-based, but Cassavetes relentlessly presses home a brisk tension of fickleness and turns of moods through the lengthy procedures, two friends banter, jape, dance until one of them finds himself becomes an inconvenient third wheel and he snaps; the same coup-de-théâtre occurs almost repetitively in each episode, whether it is between Richard and Maria’s abruptly disconnected duologue, or the tangible disquiet/agitation between Jeanine and her client Jim McCarthy (Avery, a wonderful chameleon), or later the macho confrontation/reconciliation between Jim and Richard. But it is the chapter where Maria and co. facing off a woman-pleasing Chef leaves the most indelible mark, for its utterly frank expose of a lonely woman’s delusion and desperation under the influence of alcohol, the unsung hero here is Dorothy Gulliver's importunate Florence, you cannot help but feeling pity for her, but the pity is concomitant with a whiff of involuntary disgust.

The cast is pure gold, John Marley upstages the rest with hissilver fox allure so damning pungent in every line delivery and gesticulation, deceptively papers over Richard’s dark streak with a winning/poignant combo of open-facedness and bluntness, only belies his shallowness and misery in the morning after as an exasperating cuckold. Ms.Cassavetes, the unparalleled Gena Rowlands drums nuances into every pore of her body and every glance she casts (also thanks to the majestically in-your-face shots to create that stunning effect). However it is two newbies who are given some legitimate Oscar love,Lynn Carlin is stripped down to her raw emotion in her film debut, which powerfully elicits Maria’s clogged mental state and counterpoises its life-threatening after-effect; on the other hand, a blond and youthful Seymour Cassel beautifully oozes sex appeal and wide-eyed sophistication as an unexpectedly selfless symbol of savior to all those wrenched and dissatisfied housewives, his Chet is the diagonal counterpart of Rowland’s Jeanine, only in exeunt omnes, he has to rashly flee from a window whereas she might eventually get what she wants, if one wanna write about sex politics, FACES is a gold mine.

Most suitably, FACES should be ensconced as a smoldering pendant of Mike Nichols’ WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?, both are hell-bent in tearing down smoke and mirrors to debunk lethargy, inaction and mythomania (among many other maladies) abound in all relationships, dare you to watch them cheek by jowl!

referential points: Cassavetes’ A WOMAN UNDER THE INFLUENCE (1974, 7.3/10), OPENING NIGHT (1977, 8.1/10); Mike Nichols’ WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? (1966, 8.2/10)

Mille Plateaux: YEAR ZERO: FACIALITY

Faces are not basically individual; they define zones of

frequency or probability, delimit a field that neutralizes in advance any

expressions or connections unamenable to the appropriate significations.

Similarly, the form of subjectivity, whether consciousness or passion,

would remain absolutely empty if faces did not form loci of resonance that

select the sensed or mental reality and make it conform in advance to a

dominant reality. The face itself is redundancy. It is itself in redundancy

with the redundancies of signifiance or frequency, and those of resonance

or subjectivity. The face constructs the wall that the signifier needs in order

to bounce off of; it constitutes the wall of the signifier, the frame or screen.

The face digs the hole that subjectification needs in order to break through;

it constitutes the black hole of subjectivity as consciousness or passion, the

camera, the third eye.

Cassavetes on Cassavetes by Cassavetes, John Carney

Page 165

As in Shadows, and as would be the case in all of his subsequent films, Faces’ actors were encouraged to draw on the deepest aspects of their personalities and attitudes in their playing. Cassavetes’ secret to making this work was to operate in such a deep way that the actors didn’t realize what was going on. Their performances became explorations of parts of themselves they didn’t know were there, and which would only be discovered later, if ever. The characters Cassavetes created were sufficiently different from the actors in superficial respects that the actors didn’t recognize the similarity to themselves, which meant that they played their roles unselfconsciously and unguardedly. But, at the same time, the roles tapped into deep structures of feeling and personality that enriched their performances and made them profoundly revealing.

As Cassavetes mentioned above, Seymour Cassel did follow women home and make love to them (and had gotten into a lot of trouble because of it). He was a kind of ‘beach boy’, and aspects of Cassel’s personality and attitudes deeply informed the character of Chettie. Lynn Carlin played a housewife with problems and, at the point she made Faces, she herself had ‘some severe personal problems’ (in Al Ruban’s words). Her marriage was falling apart; she had lost her job; and she had a lot of mixed feelings (both positive and negative) about her life and the men she knew, even as she still maintained a degree of innocence that contrasted with the externals of her situation. Cassavetes got her to draw on her pains, confusions and vulnerability in her portrayal of Maria. Similarly, Cassavetes drew on parts of Val Avery that Avery himself didn’t understand to deepen his performance of McCarthy. Avery’s characteristic bluster and swagger – and the vulnerability that the big talk covered up – became his character. (Avery the person is the very definition of a lamb in wolf’s clothing – hiding his genuine gentleness under a gruff exterior.) As a comic illustration of the overlap of life and art, at one point in the shoot Avery invited Cassavetes to ‘go outside and fight when he got upset with him, exactly the same way his character does with Richard Forst. Cassavetes similarly drew on aspects of John Marley’s personality. As a seasoned ‘pro’, Marley did have a high opinion of himself and felt superior to the less experienced actors – particularly the beginner, Carlin. He intimidated her, patronized her and criticized her acting. He was occasionally testy when Cassavetes asked for another take (feeling that his performance had been good enough). Cassavetes knew not to ignore this dynamic but to use it to enhance Marley’s performance as a high-powered businessman and to energize his acted relationship with Carlin. (By way of contrast, Marley’s very different feelings towards Gena Rowlands, his respect for her as an actress and a person, are drawn on in the altogether more responsive performance he gives when he is playing with her.