Carta a John Cassavetes


«There’s a particular feeling I get when I’m about to see one of your films—an anticipation. It doesn’t matter if I’ve seen the film before or not (by now I think I’ve seen them all at least several times) I still get that feeling. I’m expecting something I seem to crave, a kind of cinematic enlightenment. As a film fan or as a filmmaker (there isn’t really a clear dividing line for me anymore) I’m anticipating a blast of inspiration. I want formal enlightenment. I need the secret consequences of a jump-cut to be revealed to me. I want to know how the rawness of the camera angles or the grain of the film material figures into the emotional equation. I want to learn about acting from the performances, about atmosphere from the light and locations. I’m ready, fully prepared to absorb “truth at twenty-four-frames-per-second.”
But the thing is this: as soon as the film begins, introduces its world to me, I’m lost. The expectation of that particular enlightenment evaporates. It leaves me there in the dark, alone. Human beings now inhabit that world inside the screen. They also seem lost, alone. I watch them. I observe every detail of their movements, their expressions, their reactions. I listen carefully to what each one is saying, to the frayed edges of someone’s tone of voice, the concealed mischief in the rhythm of another’s speech. I’m no longer thinking about acting. I’m oblivious to “dialogue.” I’ve forgotten the camera.
The enlightenment I anticipated from you is being replaced by another. This one doesn’t invite analysis or dissection, only observation and intuition. Instead of insights into, say, the construction of a scene, I’m becoming enlightened by the sly nuances of human nature.  
Your films are about love, about trust and mistrust, about isolation, joy, sadness, ecstasy and stupidity. They’re about restlessness, drunkenness, resilience and lust, about humor, stubbornness, miscommunication and fear. But mostly they’re about love and they take one to a far deeper place than any study of “narrative form.” Yeah, you are a great filmmaker, one of my favorites. But what your films illuminate most poignantly is that celluloid is one thing and the beauty, strangeness and complexity of human experience is another.
John Cassavetes, my hat is off to you. I’m holding it over my heart.»
- from the book “John Casavetes: Lifeworks” by Tom Charity

outro livro importante de Ray Carney "Cassavetes on Cassavetes"

An episode of French television channel ORTF's filmmaker-focused documentary series Cinéastes de notre temps (Filmmakers of Our Time) on American independent cinema maverick, John Cassavetes by Janine Bazin and André S. Labarthe.

The documentary aired in 1969 and Cassavetes was fresh off shooting Faces with John Marley, Gena Rowlands and Seymour Cassel. It's an intimate, kinetic and fun portrait of Cassavetes, including discussions about his working methods, his relationship with camera operator George Sims, American independent cinema, budget constraints, driving around listening to the Beach Boys, anecdotes about Don Siegel, insight into the production of Faces and Shadows in the editing room, the different versions of Shadows, among many other topics. You'll notice the consistent laughter throughout the interview, which may give the best understanding of Cassavetes as a personality.

O mais importante de tudo é ver os magníficos filmes de Cassavetes,
e de preferência numa sala de cinema.