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Watching John Cassavetes film, Opening Night, I was reminded of something that Quentin Tarantino said once in an interview about personal experience in being a creator of art or acting. He referred to an example of, say, if he ran over a dog while on his way to act in a play that it wouldn't be the end of his life but that it would affect him, and that, without a doubt, he would have to bring that experience with him on stage even if it was a light comedy. "Otherwise," as he said, "what am I doing?" I couldn't help but think of his words when watching Gena Rowland's character, Myrtle Gordon, who for almost a whole week or so goes through a very similar scenario. There is more to this in Cassavetes' film, of course, since it's about how the theater works around a star actress, what emotion and human nature mean when looking at playing a character, and how one lives when all one has (like Myrtle Gordon) is the theater.
Near the beginning of the film, after exiting a performance, Myrtle is signing autographs and one such fan named Nancy comes up to her favorite star and pours her heart out to Myrtle. It's a touching little moment, but it doesn't last as she has to get in the car (pouring rain and all). She then watches in horror as the girl, who stood right next to the car as it drove off, gets hit by another car in an auto accident. She's not sure really what happened, but then finds out the next day that in fact the girl did die from the hit. From then on she's sort of stunned by this even after she thinks it's out of her system. At first this shows in small ways, like when she rehearses a scene with her fellow actor (played by Cassavetes) and can't seem to stand being hit - she blames it on the lack of depth in the character (the writer: "What do you think the play lacks?" "Hope," says Myrtle)- but then Nancy starts to show up to her, an apparition that to Myrtle is all to real, until she's suddenly gone.
Cassavetes, as in the past films, is after a search for what it means to have emotion, to really feel about something and feel it, or the lack thereof, and how it affects others around the person. This isn't exactly new ground for Rowlands, who previously played a woman on the edge of herself in Woman Under the Influence (in that case because of alcohol), nor would it be alien territory for costar Ben Gazzara, who just came off starring in Killing of a Chinese Bookie. But the actors express everything essential to their characters in every scene; Cassavetes doesn't tell them how to get from A to B in a scene, and he doesn't need to. There's a mood in a Cassavetes film that trumps the sometimes grungy camera-work. You know Myrtle, for example, should be content somehow, even if it isn't with the plot. But she's haunted, and is unsatisfied with her character's lack of depth and the tone of the play ("Aging, who goes to see that?" she asks the playwright), and it starts to affect those around her too.
The question soon becomes though not what is the usual. A conventional dramatist would make the conflict 'Will she be able to go on stage, will the show go on?' This isn't important for Cassavetes, even if it's there, as is the question 'Will she be alright?' Perhaps going through such a grueling play as "The Second Woman" could help her work out her personal demons and her losing her grip on reality (seeing Sara and attacking her in front of total strangers, who wonder what the hell is going on)? Or will the play's lack of hope strain everything else wrong with her? The depths Rowlands makes with her character are intense and harrowing, and that it's expected doesn't mean it's any duller than Woman Under the Influence- if anything, it's just as good as that film at being honest about a person in this profession, and consequently the other performances are just as true, from Gazarra to Nancy played by a subtle Laura Johnson. Cassavetes answers to his own posed questions aren't easy.
One of the real thrills of Opening Night, along with seeing great actors performing an amazing script, is to see Cassavetes take on the theater the way he does. We see the play performed- and it's apparently a real play- and we only know slightly what it's about. When we see the actors on the stage performing it, we wax and wane between being involved in what melodrama is going on (relationship scuffling and affairs and the occasional slap and domestic violence) and the improvisation of the actors. I wondered watching how much really was improvised, how much Cassavetes allowed for the other actors to do in the scenes where Myrtle starts to go loopy or, in the climax, is completely smashed. He's on the stage, too, so it must have been something for them to work it out beforehand and let what would happen happen.
It's funny, startling, chilling, and edge-of-your-seat stuff, some of the best theater-on-film scenes ever put in a movie, and we see the lines between actor on stage, actor on film, actor with actor, blur together wonderfully. Opening Night is a potent drama that is full of frank talk about death and madness, reality and fiction, where the love is between people, and really, finally, what does 'acting' mean?


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