25th April 2008

Gloria

John Cassavetes 1980

Though this was a relatively conventional film from Cassavetes, almost a straight action film but not quite, there were still a number of things that were really interesting throughout. No doubt the role of Gloria was the main focus for Cassavetes and Rowlands, and the lead role is effective portrayed as a tough, near-spinster, thrust into a (social) situation she is unprepared for and nearly unfit to cope with. However, what we talked about most of all was the character of the boy, Phil Dawn, played by John Adames, and the way he developed throughout the story. In relation to one of the themes of the film – the question as to what makes a ‘man’, as well as the degree to which people need others or let them into their affection – the young boy’s dialogue, and much of his general role, seemed somehow ventriloquised, so to speak. In various places, it was as if much of the boy’s dialogue was written with someone else – i.e. an adult – in mind. The words spoken didn’t seem to ring true coming out of his mouth – for example, when they were in the ‘flophouse’ and the room pulsed with red neon from the street outside, Phil exclaims how “these neon lights are driving me crazy” – it seemed like some cliched Noir line [which JC is obviously playing with throughout], but coming out of a six-year-old’s mouth just seemed absurd. I guess much of this approach is deliberate, given the central concern as to who is the ‘man’ in the situation, but occasionally it seemed to jar a little too much – as if the character’s deferred transition, or ambivalence between boy and man were being forced too much to be effectively upheld. The constant questioning of who is the ‘man’ (the same question, of course, being asked of Gloria, but in a different register, and with different associated responsibilities) or who is authoritative in a given situation, stems from Phil’s father, just prior to being wiped out, having bequeathed the space of that authority to both his son and his unwilling neighbour – one to become the head of the family and the other to take care of the child. This split, one might say, results in the power struggle that runs throughout the film – a struggle that is informed by mock adult relationships, the overblown perspective of the child’s world, as well as being informed by convention. The way that Phil would say things that seemed like they had come from the TV, or from his assumptions as to what should be said in this unmoored situation he finds himself in, was quite effective. Linked to this were the scenes when the boy stood at the anonymous graveside as part of a ritual created for him by Gloria so that he can say goodbye to his murdered family, and the way he improvises a way through a situation he doesn’t know how to deal with [how many times does Phil plainly state: "I don't know what to do..."?]. He blurts out something about dreaming of his family the previous night, and makes a bizarre gesture with his hands and arms, most likely an approximation intended to be the sign of the cross. The action makes him look like some kind of praying mantis, before he sprints off back to Gloria – his only remaining point of contact that makes sense for him, however difficult or distant that ’sense’ seems to be. Apparently, Cassavetes said that the kid wasn’t supposed to be “sympathetic or non-sympathetic” – wasn’t a character designed to function in a certain way or to achieve something in the narrative – but was “just a kid”. Somehow, this seems to ring true – and perhaps explains why his way of talking or behaving seems to be so unplaceable to me – even though there seemed to be so many odd, contradictory things going on with the character. Thinking about it, one of my favourite bits of the film involved the boy spouting dialogue that was equally surreal and plausible, with a mixture of wry, near-adult sarcasm and desperate innocence. Gloria leaves him on the street to go to a bar and, as she walks away, Phil berates her, shouting over the traffic: “…’bye little insect, ‘bye little fly, goodbye little tiny insect…” whilst using his forefinger and thumb to ’squash’ her as she recedes from view, out of shot. This throwaway outburst remained in my mind in any case.