Words of wisdom from John Cassavetes: “You know, in this business, it's all jealousy.”

Jeffrey Wells posted an interesting commentary today over at Hollywood Elsewhere, postulating that Hollywood major players are far less supportive of their fellow filmmakers than their counterparts, past and present, in other countries. And got me to thinking about something the late, great John Cassavetes told me way during an interview way back in 1985. You can read the entire article I gleaned from our conversation in Gabriella Oldhman’s exceptional anthology John Cassavetes: Interviews, recently published by the University Press of Mississippi. (Mind you, I’m not saying it’s exceptional simply because she included something written by me — but, hey, that didn’t hurt.) This particular segment, however, I feel is especially relevant in light of Wells’ observation:

So, at 55, John Cassavetes is still a maverick, eh?

The question elicits a melancholy smile. Cassavetes stares at his soft drink for a moment as he calmly considers his answer. “People used to love to call me a maverick, because I had a big mouth, and I’d say, ‘That bum!’ or something like that when I was young. Mainly, because I believed it, and I didn’t know there was anybody’s pain connected to the business. I was so young, I didn't feel any pain. I just thought, ‘Why don’t they do some exciting, venturesome things? Why are they just sitting there, doing these dull pictures that have already been done many, many times, and calling them exciting? That's a lie — they're not exciting. Exciting is an experiment.’

“Now, from the point of view of a guy in his 20s, that was true. But when I look back on it, I think, yes, that man was a maverick. But...”

His words trail off into weak laughter.

“That reputation keeps with you, through the years. Once the press calls you a maverick, it stays in their files. I’ll be dead five years, and they'll still be saying, ‘That maverick son-of-a-bitch, he's off in Colorado, making a movie. As if they really cared.

“You know, in this business, it's all jealousy. I mean, this is the dumbest business I’ve ever seen in my life. If somebody gets married, they say, ‘It’ll never work.’ If somebody gets divorced, they say, ‘Good. I'll give you my lawyer.’ If somebody loses a job, everyone will call him -- to gloat. They’ll discuss it, they’ll be happy, they’ll have parties. I don't understand how people that can see each other all the time, and be friends, can be so happy about each other’s demise.

“I think people, studio executives and filmmakers, should hate each other openly, and save a lot of trouble. It’s like me and actors. I never get along with actors, not on the level of friendship, because I don't believe in it. Only on a creative level. Now, through a period of years, Peter Falk and I have become very good friends, as have Ben Gazzara and I. But only after a period of years. That friendship came out of working on Husbands together, and the success that came out of that. And a lot of other films, too. Sometimes, we’ve been successful, and sometimes we've been unsuccessful. I mean, the creative part of it has always been successful. That’s been the bargain of it, our relationship.

“But I’m sure that, the moment I was no longer interested in anything artistic, Peter would not be my friend anymore. And that would be fair game. I probably wouldn’t be his friend, either, if I weren’t interested in art.” 

Before there was Killing Patton there was... Brass Target

Professional bloviator Bill O'Reilly isn't being treated very kindly by the critics and academics passing judgment on his latest book, Killing Patton: The Strange Death of World War II's Most Audacious General, a speculative historical mashup based on the dubious theory that the legendary military leader was terminated by Soviet assassins. But wait, there's more: Richard Cohen of The Washington Post and  Lawrence O'Donnell of MSNBC have taken their own jabs at O'Reilly's presumptive best-seller, insisting the author should have should have included info about Patton's alleged anti-Semitism.

But here's what I want to know: Why aren't more pundits noting the similarity between O'Reilly's paranoid scenario and the plot of Brass Target, a deservedly obscure 1978 thriller that also claimed Patton's death was anything but accidental? Could it be that few people actually remember this cheesy movie? Or, more likely, that anyone who actually saw it back in the day has tried very hard ever since to forget it?

As I wrote in 1977:

This lethargic copy of Day of the Jackal spins a fantastic yarn about a plot by corrupt US Army officers to kill Gen. George S. Patton shortly after World War II. The plotters are worried that Patton, played with unconvincing swagger by George Kennedy, will uncover their duplicity in a $250-million gold theft that left over two dozen American soldiers dead. The poor soldiers were knocked out by gas, a fate akin to that which may befall anyone trying to stay awake during this plodding claptrap. 

Brass Target is slick, to be sure, but it’s also so lifelessly directed by John Hough (Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry), and so unimaginatively scripted by Alvin Boretz, that it lacks even the giddy excitement of an outrageously bad movie... This is the sort of routinely acted TV-movie-style tripe in which two villains are depicted as gay merely to provide them with some kind of distinguishing characteristics. A woman (Sophia Loren) appears in a few scenes only to provide a feminine name in the credits. And the assassin (Max Von Sydow, more or less reprising his Three Days of the Condor character) makes a lot of smug comments to the hero (John Cassavetes) about how silly morality is. Patrick McGoohan hams it up briefly as a colorful cynic, but his character winds up dead all too soon. 

At the end, Cassavetes pieces together the assassination plot, finds the murder weapon – a gun used to break Patton’s back with a rubber bullet – and polishes off the bad guys. Then the movie just ends. The closing credits reveal that Patton’s death was officially listed as the result of a car accident, and the $250 million in gold was never recovered. My guess is, Cassavetes decided to keep the gold and Sophia Loren, and never mind about who killed Patton. That sounds cynical, I admit, but it makes about as much sense as anything else in Brass Target.

Looking back, I think it's fair to say Brass Target can be at least partially justified as one of the easy-paycheck projects that allowed John Cassavetes the wherewithal to make his own indie movies. I'll leave it to others to come up with a similar justification for Killing Patton.

R.I.P.: Ben Gazzara (1930-2012)

Actor Ben Gazzara -- who passed away Friday at age 81 -- could proudly point to a resume that included roles in such notable films as Anatomy of a Murder, Saint Jack, They All Laughed, Capone -- in which he played the title role opposite, no kidding, Sylvester Stallone's Frank Nitti -- and The Big Lebowksi. But, hey, let's face it: If you're of a certain age, you'll always remember him best as an adventurous libertine who's determined to make every minute count after being diagnosed with a fatal illness in the 1965-68 TV series Run for Your Life. And if you're a tad younger: He'll always be the bad guy who dared to tangle with Patrick Swayze in the 1989 guilty pleasure Road House.

I had the pleasure to interview him back in the day during a New York press gathering for the latter. (The first junket, I should note, where I received a CD -- not a audiotape, but a CD -- of the movie soundtrack as part of the junket swag.) He seemed amused when I told him about my fond childhood memories of Arrest and Trial, a 1963-64 90-minute weekly series with a format that, unbeknownst to either of us in '89, would later be more successfully employed in a 60-minute weekly series titled Law & Order.

And he smiled proudly when I told him of my enduring admiration for his collaborations with the late, great John Cassavetes.

SXSW XVII: Monsters

If John Cassavetes had ever made a sci-fi thriller about ginormous extraterrestrial invaders, it probably would have looked and sounded a lot like Monsters. No, seriously. I liked this audacious indie a lot -- but I'm really, really happy I don't have to market it. You can read my Variety review here.

Going digital: MovieMaker

For a limited time only, you can check out -- for free -- a digital edition of MovieMaker Magazine's Winter 2009 issue. Which means that you can read a brief but entertaining Q&A with writer-director Rod Lurie by... well, by me. And you can read an extraordinary "lost" interview with the late, great John Cassavetes by... well, that one's by me, too. And you can also read lots of other articles by some other writers. I did say it's free, right?

John Cassavetes: The Lost Interview

I am not going to lie and say I am anything but ridiculously proud of this piece in the new issue of MovieMaker.

It's a wonderful film

During its umpteenth rerun Saturday night on NBC, Frank Capra’s It's a Wonderful Life scored a slight but measurable ratings victory over Elf (on CBS) and Finding Nemo (on ABC). And yes, I admit: I watched (for the umpteenth time), and likely will watch again (when NBC re-reruns it on Christmas Eve).

Sorry, but I turn a deaf ear and a blind eye whenever some cynic tries to convince me that this enduring classic is nothing but cloyingly sentimental Capra-corn. Indeed, I’ve always been struck by the movie’s hard edges and dark undercurrents as it considers the life of George Bailey (James Stewart at the top of his form), a small-town savings-and-loan manager whose grand ambitions have always been stifled by civic duty and family responsibility. On a particularly bleak Christmas Eve, he thinks of suicide as a way to end what he feels has been a useless, worthless existence. (Hey: Been there, felt that.) But George sells himself much too short. And thanks to the intervention of a guardian angel, he comes to appreciate that his life has touched and enriched many other lives, much the same way we all affect (for better or worse) the people around us, often without our knowing.

For the past two or three decades – thanks in large part, of course, to countless TV airings -- It's a Wonderful Life has become enshrined as America’s official Christmas movie. But don’t let that keep you away if you’ve never seen it, or want to see it again: It speaks in an optimistic and encouraging voice to all of us, and can brighten your spirits at any time of the year.

As for the cynics who would dis this classic – well, consider this: Unlike many other indie filmmakers – including some who would profess to be influenced by the late, great John Cassavetes – Cassavetes himself refused to sneer at the idealist who made It's a Wonderful Life. “Frank Capra,” Cassavetes once proclaimed, “is the greatest filmmaker that ever lived. Capra created a feeling of belief in a free country and in goodness in bad people… Idealism is not sentimental. It validates a hope for the future. Capra gave me hope, and in turn I wish to extend a sense of hope to my audiences.”

On the other hand: I suspect Cassavetes also would have enjoyed a version of It’s a Wonderful Life starring bunny rabbits.