Opening Night

The first half-hour or so of Opening Night appears to have all of the trappings of a classic, Hollywood melodrama, except for one key fact: the film is directed by John Cassavetes who does nothing the typical, Hollywood way. And you begin to realize that a little ways into it. It's about an aging, alcoholic stage actress who is playing and even older woman in her latest play. Watching this film makes you realize how, at one time, Gena Rowlands was America's most underrated, great actress. She often reminds me of Ellen Burstyn, only better and not as famous. She is photographed in such a way as to simultaneously emphasize her aging facial features and her kind of beauty that make you want to reach through the screen and touch. As I mentioned before, Cassavetes never takes his story in the direction that we have been trained to expect, and, at times, I have to wonder if the whole thing isn't just an elaborate metaphor for his feud with the Hollywood establishment. In one of the opening scenes we see a crucial scene from the play performed as scripted and intended. It would do you well to remember it, because you will never see it performed the same way again for the remainder of the film. Much of this is due to the fact that the Rowland's character is an alcoholic, and almost seems to be on the verge of a breakdown. I wish I could explain more, but the beauty of a Cassavetes film is in its naturalism and the way it has an uncanny ability to reach into raw, emotional truth in the most ulikely of situations and in the stragest ways.