An American housewife is victimized by a fragile mental state which sends her spiraling toward a breakdown. An American airplane is victimized by Islamic hijackers who send it spiraling toward the ground. These may seem like two wildly dissimilar subjects for a movie, yet they were brought to cinematic life by two different filmmakers who utilized similar styles to achieve a similar effect of ultimate realism. John Cassavetes directed his unforgettable portrait of a woman’s mental breakdown in 1974’s A Woman Under the Influence, while Paul Greengrass directed the best film so far in 2006, with his depiction of the September 11th plane hijacking in United 93. Cassavetes had a notorious disdain for entertainment in American film, and once stated that his goal was to “create films that are a roadmap through emotional and intellectual terrains that provide a solution on how to save pain” [Carney 374]. With his roots in documentary filmmaking, Greengrass had similar intentions for United 93, to conduct a believable re-creation of a real-life tragedy that would provide catharsis to viewers. The filmmakers’ similarities can be evidenced in their use of actors, cinematography, and an absence of storytelling conventions during a key sequence from both of their films.
In A Woman, Mable Longhetti (Gena Rowlands) is confronted by her husband Nick (Peter Falk), his mother (Katherine Cassavetes), and the family doctor (Eddie Shaw), who watch helplessly as Mable’s sanity bursts apart in front of them. In United 93, Ben Sliney is in charge of Virginia’s National Air Traffic Command center when he, along with every one of his co-worker, watch helplessly as the Twin Towers burst apart in front of them on a TV projection. These small but pivotal scenes contain perfect examples of each filmmaker’s stylistic approach.
In their use of actors, both Cassavetes and Greengrass fly in the face of convention. They each gather a cast that mixes professional actors with non-actors. Cassavetes openly loves working with amateurs because “they have no preconceived notions” of how a scene should be played [Carney 167], and often pick up on things faster than the professionals. Similarly, Greengrass favors the mix because it creates a magical chemistry where “the actors stop acting and the non-actors start to act” [United]. A Woman’s cast featured the well-known professional actor Peter Falk, in a role entirely different from his popular character on TV’s “Colombo”, along with non-professionals including several of Cassavetes’ friends and family members. Greengrass avoided such personal choices while instead going for a more universal approach, by casting unknown professionals alongside people who were involved with the real-life tragedy.
A Woman’s breakdown scene features Cassavetes’s wife Gena, his mother Katherine, his producer’s son Eddie, and Falk. This bizarre casting method intensified the scene’s painfully candid emotions. Cassavetes’s onset sparring with Gena no doubt added rage to her spastic tics, while Katherine’s inability to fully grasp her son’s filmmaking fueled her own onscreen exasperation [Woman]. Since the actors were forbidden to discuss their characters with each other, certain scenes took on a visceral spontaneity. Gena’s outbursts became so outlandish that Eddie was momentarily convinced that his co-star was truly losing it, which caused his face to pale in pure horror [Woman]. The director’s dislike of studio sets caused him to film in actual houses (occasionally his own), including the one in which this scene takes place. After renting the Hollywood house from its owners, Cassavetes set up production offices upstairs, and made various rooms look smaller, thus giving the location a realistic intimacy [Carne 319]. The resulting scene plays like an ordinary, overheard domestic squabble.
Greengrass’s approach to casting both resembles and differs from that of Cassavetes. Various air traffic controllers and military personnel play themselves, while acting out precisely what they did on September 11th, in the room where they were on that day. The sequence featuring Ben Sliney (playing himself) reacting to footage of the explosion emanating from the World Trade Center, is interspersed with mini-scenes at the real air traffic control centers in Massachusetts and New York, as well as on board the doomed Flight 93, populated by real stewardesses and pilots. This creates a veracious tone in every movement and utterance of dialogue. Where Greengrass differs from Cassavetes is in his actors’ preparation. Each actor playing a deceased individual on Flight 93 was encouraged to visit the families of their deceased character. While this gesture was undoubtedly respectful and moving, it caused some actors to take a subtly idealistic approach to their characters, perhaps making them a touch more saintly than necessary, in order to please the victims’ families. This is one of the only elements of Greengrass’s film that compromises the purity of Cassavetes’s approach, in which the actors never discussed their characters, thereby avoiding the tainting of their performance by the outside world. Yet Greengrass’s approach does work in an emotional context.
In the realm of cinematography, both filmmakers use seemingly identical styles. They both shoot scenes with handheld cameras that, according to Cassavetes, push “the actors’ tempo up without words” [Carne 343]. To capture the essence of unrehearsed human behavior, both filmmakers shot their scenes in prolonged, uninterrupted takes (sometimes up to an hour long) which allowed actors to truly live in the moment, without thinking of a camera rolling. In A Woman, Eddie became so involved in an argument with Falk that he accidentally hit the camera, creating an improvised moment of jarringly visceral violence. In each of the sequences being analyzed, two cameramen were generally used. One of them shot mostly in wide-angles, creating master shots which would be interspersed with the second cameraman’s tighter close-ups, which intrude on the action to capture the smallest of details. The focus in both scenes becomes blurred, and the framing of various shots are devoid of a central focus. Individual edits cut off characters in mid-sentence, such as Eddie’s final line in A Woman’s scene (“I have a letter here that says-”). This utter lack of artistic composition causes the cinematography to seem observational, as if it’s capturing the sight of an invisible spectator in the room.
Curiously enough, Greengrass’s sole cinematographic departure from Cassavetes in essence becomes an elaboration on the past director’s goals. Each shot in the breakdown scene is fairly stationary, save for a few noticeable shakes. This is in keeping with Cassavetes’s forbiddance of simulating emotion through a technical effect [Carne 351]. Yet in United 93, Greengrass keeps the camera moving, but never smoothly. As Ben and his co-workers stare at the burning towers, the camera darts back and forth from the terrifying footage, back to their confounded faces. Although this visual approach seems to simulate emotion through technical effects, it’s actually just as objective as Cassavetes’s style. The camera moves like a confused onlooker struggling to find meaning in the chaos surrounding it. This puts the viewer entirely inside the action, without the luxury of a cinematographer that directs their attention toward points of interest. The audience thus feels the helpless confusion of the characters, which makes their experience of the onscreen action all the more realistic and viscerally affecting.
Finally, both Cassavetes and Greengrass clearly treasure an absence of storytelling conventions. Both sequences occur in real-time, thereby avoiding any explanation of a character or event. Greengrass admitted that he made no attempt to explain the technical jargon used by the military and air traffic controllers, because in order for the film “to feel real, it had to be challenging” [United]. In the final analysis, the lack of explanation in both films allows the viewer to easily get to the core of the issues being studied, without getting sidetracked by needless details. Not only are the labels of ‘protagonist’ and ‘antagonist’ never issued, but the inherent meaning of the scenes are never preached. This allows each scene’s content to speak for itself, while inviting any form of interpretation from viewers. Since both A Woman and United 93 demolish any form of narrative convention, they are left to follow the rule of Cassavetes, who said that “in replacing narrative, you need an idea” [Carne 314]. Both scenes, involving the observation of a tragic event, are built around the same idea: when a failure to communicate occurs (in a marriage or a nation), tragedy inevitably strikes.
In the end, the filmmaking techniques of Cassavetes and Greengrass are strikingly similar not only in their use of actors, cinematography, and a dismissal of storytelling conventions, but also in their inherent goals. While Cassavetes wanted to provide viewers with a “solution on how to save pain,” Greengrass actually eased the pain felt by the families of 9/11 victims, who attested to the film’s cathartic power after screening the movie. The general consensus was that by experiencing the tragedy to the maximum degree of realism, they could finally reclaim a sense of inner peace for themselves. Such a reaction begs the question, why must we humans experience pain so that we may find peace? Can we only manage to face reality through the flickering of movie screen?
Bibliography:
Carne, Ray. Cassavetes on Cassavetes. London, England: Faber and Faber Limited,
2001.
Ferris, Mike & Bo Harwood. “Audio Commentary.” A Woman Under the Influence.
Dir. John Cassavetes. Perf. Peter Falk and Gena Rowlands. Criterion: 2004.
Greengrass, Paul. “Feature Commentary.” United 93. Dir. Paul Greengrass. Perf.
Christian Clemenson and Ben Sliney. Universal: 2006.
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