chaos-rampant Step the third in my journey through Cassavetes..Here, he takes one of the most popular movie formats, the romance. Boy- meets-girl in LA, under the lights. But she is no cool femme fatale, she is fragile, unsure of herself. He is no Bogie himself; as the film starts he is watching The Maltese Falcon in a theater, a scene where Mary Astor throws herself crying on Bogie's feet. Trying to pick up women afterwards, he's chased out of bars, looked at as a weirdo and beaten up in an alley.The idea is that we are not going to see movie people, but real people on the street. That was the ambition anyway, a situation aggravated by Cassavetes' actorly Studio background—as in Husbands, we have constant shouting matches, awkward intrusions, obnoxious pulling and nervousness. He seems to think the room inhabited by these characters won't feel real and lived, unless we have damage on the walls, a Greek sensibility, after all the main story recasts Zorba. So unlike a Bogart film, the actors here don't coolly glide off each other, they cut themselves on each other's edges.The same situation develops here as I described in my comment on Husbands. The edges, the damage are unusually pronounced, by this I mean a situation like when Moskowitz almost runs her over with his truck to get her to go with him takes me out of it. A softer next moment will pull me in again, until the next hysteric one and so on. Which brings me to my main discussion about presence.Moskowitz is the kind of character who can be likable once you get to know him, the sort of bond you form with coworkers that greatly depends on shared time. Minnie is warm when we first see her, but there's a haughty, nervous ghost in her. It is, let's say, a truer to life perception than the immediately charming Bogarts and Stanwycks of old. It requires work to take them in, giving space.That narrative room, that space where characters wreck themselves and things works the same way once you excise the shouty moments, simply wonderful. None of the individual visual moments are cool or typically beautiful. The locales are drab and mundane. The light and textures all natural, the whole is imperfect but breathes. In this, he equals Pasolini, another master of the living eye.So on a moment-by- moment basis, the space is like the characters, intensely present flow to undefined horizon. In a movie like the Maltese Falcon, the narrative horizon is immediately defined (get the bird), and again defined in every scene (get out of there, rough someone up, etc.) so we are at all times comfortably tethered, enjoying the play. What Cassavetes does matters in the long run in the sculpting of the overall effect, it doesn't leap to attention.Like Husbands, this slowly starts to work for me once I have a narrative shift that faintly, very faintly defines a certain horizon in the story—here marriage. Cassavetes is work, because this happens so late in the movie, the bulk of it is like staring at a blank page waiting for inspiration, or waiting for musicians to tune their instruments. Here, that shift happens about 9/10ths in the film, and then we're through that and a new horizon opens, the closing shots of family life and then it's over.So it starts to work late but extends for me to long after it's over, it's one of the most haunting effects I know, transcendentally marvelous; more on that in the next comment on Woman.

madmaxmedia Life is crazy. You're crazy, I'm crazy, we're all crazy. We're all a little bit Minnie, and a little bit Moskowitz. Sometimes it does seem best to be sensible...but then what might you be missing out on?You gotta be you. You don't have to park cars and semi-randomly yell at people, but you can't hide yourself behind a veil (or dark sunglasses) and pretend and act like everything is okay. And sometimes, you really do have to throw caution to the wind, because why else are you alive?I'm not going to 'rate' this love compared to Cassavetes' other movies, because they are all absolutely 100% unique works and each their own individual act of expression and exploration of our lives. In that sense they are all great, and comparisons are odious. For sure, this movie has that one crazy, sometimes maddening, but ultimately wonderful and freeing quality that all his movies have- you never know what's going to happen next, and you never know what the characters are going to think, do, or feel next. Neither do the characters themselves- and do we really want to live our lives any other way? Unlike Moskowitz, you can have a great job and judiciously sock away money into your IRA, but still live the life of an adventurer inside- in your feelings, your spirit, and your very experience of life. Yeah, we can have it both ways, that's what Cassavetes shows us. Thank God somebody did.

caspian1978 At times, you forget that you are watching a movie and not the lives of two average (but unique) people and the incomplete lives that they live. Searching for love, if not just acceptance, both live in a world where relationships are as confusing as the people in the relationship. By the end of the movie you can't help but smile at the images Cassavetes captures in the last 30 seconds. Without any narrative, Cassavetes gives the conclusion to the two character's lives together. True happiness...

Mister R real love. true love. mad love. beautiful love. ugly love. dirty love. sad love. happy love. silly love. smart love. gorgeous love. dumb love. love love love. minnie moore understands that what she really needs is a man who trust her, trust her and love her madly. of course when this man comes along... she tries to run away but seymour, wonderful seymour, he trusts her, he believes in her so he is going to fight for her against her. i want to be like seymour moskowitz. i want to be that kind of man. a man willing to love without been afraid to fail but willing to fail. that's a kind of hero. that's my kind of hero... and minnie moore is my kind of woman. long live cassavetes and all his lovely bunch!