Over the years, I’ve shown my support for independent cinema, not only in its modern iterations (as well as its gradual increase in success as a viable form of filmmaking that gives many artists the chance to have their voices elevated to the mainstream), but also in its origins. One of the most frequent allusions is those that refer to the work of John Cassavetes, who was almost entirely a one-man band of independent, low-budget filmmaking. His exact influence on the industry is well-documented, and has been discussed numerous times here – but now we’re finally venturing into the film that not only started his career, but was a pioneering moment for independent cinema as a whole, a revelatory piece of artistic expression that saw the director abandon nearly everything considered sacred about the filmmaking process, and going in his own direction entirely. Shadows is not Cassavetes’ best film, nor is it his most important – the exact films that fit into these categorizations are up to interpretation, but what is an almost unimpeachable fact that that this is the one work that kickstarted both one of cinema’s most iconic careers, and an entire movement that had been simmering well below the surface for several decades, but was in dire need of a boost from someone who not only had the unmitigated talent to make a film like this, but also an artist intrepid enough to go against a system that dominated nearly every aspect of the entertainment industry, making his voice heard in a landscape that would have easily silenced it had it not been so difficult to ignore in the first place. It’s a considerable achievement in every way, and one of the most enduring works of independent cinema ever produced – and along with a few individuals, such as Shirley Clarke and the Mekas brothers, Cassavetes established a new world order for filmmaking that indelibly changed the way we both make and consume cinema.

Whether you’re looking at Shadows as a revelation of mid-century filmmaking (and the work that consolidated independent cinema as a legitimate art form), or simply as a film with a social message, there is always something to say about it. Cassavetes was a working actor who took on menial jobs in projects vastly inferior to his skills for the first part of his career simply to fund his own unique vision. He did flirt briefly with work as a director-for-hire in Too Late Blues and A Child Is Waiting, two films that are rarely (if ever) discussed in the context of Cassavetes’ work as one of cinema’s most fascinating auteurs. Shadows was the start of his journey, and while calling it a social phenomenon wouldn’t be all that accurate (and indicate looking back in lazy retrospection), because its reception was chilly at first – but as history as shown, some of the most influential works of art are those that are ahead of their time. In terms of Shadows, there isn’t anything particularly notable about this film that immediately indicates why it would be a resounding success in subsequent decades, and come to be seen as a watershed moment for the independent cinema movement. However, this is precisely the point, and the reason why it made such an imprint, as it was a film that didn’t promise to be anything other than a quiet, meditative drama about a group of individuals navigating a difficult urban landscape at a time when race-related tensions were at an all-time high, and where the United States was heading into a moment of transformation. Shadows is a film that contributes to the movement rather than persuades viewers to look beyond the normative ideals – and through being more of a descriptive slice-of-life drama, rather than a massively revolutionary work of fiction, the film is able to capture the spirit of the time and place in a way that is far more simple and elegant than we’d imagine based on the quality of these stories (or rather, those that appropriated them) at the time.

1959 was in the peak of the civil rights movement, and while it would be wildly inappropriate to say Cassavetes’ and his film was some beacon of resistance (especially since there are some well-documented problems with the casting of the film, which certainly warrant discussion and should not be ignored), it’s important to remember that this was a film occurring at a time when such frank depictions of racial integration and relationships between individuals of different ethnic groups was not something that celebrated diversity, but rather a systemic failure of an institution that purported to guide the nation by means of a strict code of what can be considered acceptable. It makes sense that Cassavetes (who was no stranger to some form of ethnic bias, being of Greek heritage at a time when the concept of a cityscape as a cultural “melting pot” wasn’t quite as vogue as it is today) would want to make this film, since it touches on a number of issues the radically liberal director held close to his heart. Issues of racism (particularly the concept of colourism, which isn’t all that prevalent as a conversation in most films, despite it still being a troubling matter in various communities), gender-based violence and even classist structure form the basis of this film, which subsequently manages to incite fascinating discussions on all of them without ever coming across as inauthentic or overly heavy-handed. Whether this is a result of the improvisational structure – the veracity of which remains to be seen, as conflicting accounts attribute this film to the loose-form structure it promises to be, while others claim it to be the result of laborious rehearsal and interaction, similar to the method directors like Christopher Guest and Mike Leigh employed much later in the century – or simply the fact that it is a film made by someone whose interest in these matters went above and beyond the confines of artistry, is all up to the viewer’s perception, but as it stands, Shadows is a truly fascinating piece of cultural commentary that gives an unflinching glimpse into the trials and tribulations of a close-knit group of characters, some of whom are on the outskirts of society, and who are working their way through a world they don’t quite understand.

However, the theoretical underpinnings are only partially what makes Shadows such a resounding success, and there is a lot more to it than just the socially-charged message. In both form and content, Cassavetes proved why he was one of the pre-eminent filmmakers of his generation, since the easygoing, almost nihilistic simplicity of this film equates to something quite memorable, if not almost pedestrian. The film takes place over two weeks, and focuses on the lives of three siblings, two of which are light-skinned enough to pass for white, allowing them to navigate the upper-circles of New York City’s coveted social scene. Yet, the film doesn’t lean into this aspect of the story too frequently – it’s certainly there, and the impetus behind a number of unforgettable moments that are as emotionally-resonant as they are absolutely riveting – but instead of making it a morality tale, the director forms Shadows as a simple story of family and friendship, with thematic overtures of success and romance being supplementary to what is essentially just three wayward individuals making their way through a city known for its cutthroat pace, all while trying to move beyond the social confines that they’re forced to abide by, but only to an extent. Drawing out some terrific performances from his three leads (with Hugh Hurd, Lelia Goldoni and Ben Carruthers all being absolutely remarkable throughout the film, capable of plumbing some serious emotional depth without going too far into self-indulgence or hysterics), and finding the nuance in a story that could have so easily been either exploitative or blasé on certain issues, but is rather executed with heartfelt passion and almost documentary-style precision (undoubtedly the result of the lower budget that the director and his cohorts were working with), which makes for a truly compelling story of family and urban existence.

As a stalwart of independent cinema, John Cassavetes was something of a revolutionary – his films (with the exception of only a small handful) were simple excursions into the deepest recesses of the human condition – and while Shadows may not be his most polished or nuanced film (especially in contrast with his input in the 1970s and 1980s, one of the strongest streaks for any filmmaker), but it is one of his most fascinating, since his exploration of race-related issues may not be without its flaws, but it comes across far more sensitively than many of the more potent glimpses into the subject produced around this time, and even when it is flirting dangerously close with being too on-the-nose with how we perceive these characters and the roles they play – mainly because two of the three black leads are played by white actors – the film succeeds in portraying the lives of these people, and the groups they represent. It’s raw, gritty and incredibly visceral filmmaking that cuts to the core and never deviates from its earnest exploration of a subject that was radically ahead of its time. It is often difficult to separate this film from its reputation, but even looking beyond its importance as a moment where independent cinema finally took flight, Shadows is a film that proves that large budgets, huge stars and a coherent, eventful narrative aren’t necessary to telling a great story, and that heartfulness will always trump over exorbitance, and that there is always potential to change hearts and minds through employing nothing but compassion and meaningful commentary, which often makes a profound difference in any form of artistic expression.