When John Cassavetes stepped behind a camera, pure magic was born. There are few filmmakers that I admired for the sheer gall and dedication to their craft more than him, especially since he produced some of the greatest films of their respective eras. I don’t want to become too invested in explaining why Cassavetes was an incredible filmmaker, since there will be a more appropriate time in the near future where his status as arguably the most important figure in American independent cinema can be discussed. Instead, we’re here to talk about Gloria, the first film he produced in the last decade of his career, a time when Cassavetes was both stepping away from the style he had perfected in the 1970s, while ruminating on his status as one of the most celebrated directors of his generation, someone who was widely sought-after, but remained true to his vision right until the very end (with the exception of his ill-fated final film, which isn’t even worth mentioning by name), where he continuously told stories that interested him, as both an artist and as a human being with a deep curiosity for the inner machinations of the human condition. Gloria is often considered one of the director’s greatest achievements – it’s certainly one of his most popular, for a number of reasons. It embodies everything that Cassavetes represented as an artist – a poignant story that dives deep into the human condition, a heartbreaking lead performance (delivered by inarguably his greatest collaborator), and a screenplay that covers a wide range of existential topics, all of which can be traced back to the director’s own incessant curiosity with the more peculiar aspects of everyday life. Gloria is a true masterwork, a deliberately complex and touching story that looks at a range of issues, all filtered through the perspective of an absolute genius, whose work has rarely been more potent than it was in this fascinating character study.

From the outset, we have to draw attention to another person involved in the creation of this film. Gena Rowlands is not only someone who brought out the best in Cassavetes, the duo are undeniably the greatest director-acting pairing in the history of English-language cinema, their collaborations over the years being entirely responsible for their immense success in their respective areas. Partners in both their professional and personal lives, Cassavetes and Rowlands were consistently producing work that broke boundaries and proved the limitless potential that could come from two artists that not only implicitly understood each other, but also their craft as a whole. Gloria is yet another masterful example of Rowlands taking one of Cassavetes’ characters, and delivering an all-time great performance, one that simmers with the kind of intensity that very few actresses have ever been able to capture. When I say that she is the greatest actress in the history of American cinema, that is not an exaggeration – she is truly peerless, someone whose work has never come close to being replicated, and doubtlessly never will (there is a reason why the only person capable of playing her mother in Strangers was her idol, Bette Davis – and seeing those two work across from each other is a mesmerizing experience). Gloria gives Rowlands one of her most complex roles, with Cassavetes writing a role that allows the actress to take on another persona entirely – she had previously played roles such as a fragile housewife, and a mentally unstable theatre actress, and was now taking on the part of a faded mob moll, someone who may be past her prime in terms of desirability, but can yield a gun and negotiate like any of the men with whom she used to cavort – and it all becomes something quite brilliant when the collision of Rowland’s talents, and Cassavetes’ impeccable writing and masterful directing, results in an unforgettable two hours of incredible filmmaking.

There is a reason why Rowlands is the only professional actor in this film with a substantial role – outside of the opening scenes featuring Buck Henry and John Adames, and a few interesting cameos scattered throughout, this film is centred squarely on Rowlands’ performance as Gloria, with the young Julie Carmen (turning in quite an effective performance by child-actor standards) playing the child she is forced to momentarily adopt and protect from the mob. No one quite loved Rowlands more than Cassavetes and his vision, and their collaborations extend far beyond simply being an artist and his muse, becoming a symbiotic process between Rowlands and the camera, where a fascinating character is sculpted from only a few disparate ideas. There isn’t a membrane that separates us from this performance, with Rowlands drawing us in and holding us captive through her intense and magnetic charm. It seems almost excessive to praise the actress to such an extent – but without her mystifying and brilliant portrayal of the titular character, Gloria would simply not have much impact. There have been several remakes and adaptations of this story, but none of them have been able to reach the level of the original, since it all hinges on Rowlands’ heartbreaking and beautiful performance. There are moments where I genuinely start to question whether this could be her greatest work – but finding the definitive answer is nearly impossible when we consider the sheer scope of her work, and how this is just one of many astonishing performances given by an actress who didn’t only disappear into her characters, she constructs the entire film around her unique and unparalleled skills. Cassavetes should consider himself lucky, since most of his work was done already through simply tasking Rowlands with playing this role, his only responsibility making sure that his camera captures every beautiful, intricate moment, and crafting it into a coherent film that showcased both artists’ incredible skills.

Shifting away from the very impressive performance, we have to give credit to Cassavetes for constructing such a beautiful film. Gloria is often categorized as either a neo-noir or a crime film (if not both, since they’re not mutually exclusive), and while this is formally true, based on the story and style, there is so much more to this film than can be merely categorized. Like the vast majority of his films, Gloria evades classification, mainly through the fact that Cassavetes didn’t depend too much on trite conventions in telling his stories, constructing meaningful narratives, but focusing less on matching these ideas with generic standards, and instead evoking a particular atmosphere. Much of Gloria depends on tone and mood – it moves at a glacial pace, but is never laborious or boring, even the most slow-paced scenes being absolutely riveting in their own way. There’s a certain intimacy to this film – Cassavetes wasn’t too concerned with the mechanics of the criminal world (with the actual encounter with the powerful mobsters being reserved for the final climactic moments, rather than earlier in the film), but rather the effect it has on those in the periphery. There is a very human side to even the seediest dealings, and this is primarily what Gloria is exploring, looking at life under the control of criminals through the perspective of someone who used to be a part of this world, but continuously finds herself drawn into this world, regardless of how many times she repeatedly tries to escape. Through this approach, Cassavetes is able to make some profound statements about individuality and morality, frequently questioning whether Gloria herself is a good person, or if she’s merely a good actor, someone capable of convincing nearly anyone to do her bidding, whether it be the young child she is taking care of, or the most maniacal gangster, who isn’t quite sure whether she is on his side or not. It’s this duality that makes this film such an enthralling and multilayered drama, allowing the director to take full advantage of a very simple but effective story that simmers with potential.

Gloria isa character study long before it is a crime drama, and Cassavetes constructs it in much the same way as his previous films, which span a number of genres – it is a relatively simple narrative punctuated with moments of brutal but exhilarating violence, which only last for a few moments, and serve mainly to complement the concurrent conversations. It creates a stark oscillation between intimacy and excess, which the director balances perfectly. This is not the sprawling mob epic some may expect it to be – after all, even when working in a slightly more popular genre, Cassavetes still possessed the same independent spirit that defined most of his other work, so it’s only logical that Gloria would prioritize the more intricate and enthralling aspects of the human condition, which is the one consistent theme that persists throughout the director’s work. At this point, Cassavetes had told many stories and constructed countless fascinating characters – and yet, Gloria somehow still manages to be one of his most profound in this regard. The dynamic between the titular character and her juvenile companion is just as riveting as any other relationship that formed the foundation of one of the director’s other works – and it all goes back to the fact that Cassavetes, whether it was intentional or not, constantly made films about family, even when it wasn’t entirely obvious – whether it be a marriage, the relationship between siblings, or the challenges that come with parenthood, his films drew back to this very fundamental concept of familial unity in some way. Gloria is ultimately a film about motherhood, a different kind than that presented in A Woman Under the Influence, which was previously his definitive domestic drama. In many ways, this film serves as the exact opposite of the other – rather than being a suburban drama, Gloria is a fast-paced, urban thriller with moments of genuine insights into the experiences of a woman who has settled into a comfortable corner of the world, only to realize that her ultimate purpose was to take on a more maternal role, which she only learns after being forced into such a position – and throughout the film, we see Cassavetes and Rowlands carefully curating this theme, to the point where it becomes the most dominant aspect of the story, and leads to arguably the most poignant ending of Cassavetes entire career.

Gloria is a tremendously satisfying film, one that may have its moments of genuine terror (especially when it shows that it is not against darker subject matter in terms of where it takes its characters), but is ultimately an exceptionally moving, and deeply captivating drama about motherhood, done through a compelling tale of revenge and retreat. It’s one of the finest crime films of its era, functioning as a tightly-constructed narrative about a mob moll learning that running away is not always the best solution, even when one’s life is in danger. It has a very sobering story at the centre, and it continuously pushes forward in an effort to be as inclusive of a range of themes as possible, while still adhering to the simple nature of the narrative, which is essentially just about the relationship between two wildly different individuals that are forced into the other’s company as a result of circumstance rather than by choice. It’s an intimate, profoundly moving character study that is anchored by the ever-reliable Gena Rowlands, who is doing some of her most impactful and nuanced work here, proving that she could easily adapt to absolutely any role, bringing the same elegance and grit to her part as a hopelessly lost, past-her-prime criminal concubine who has to take matters into her own hands, proving that years under the control of the mob has given her a set of invaluable skills that she is not afraid to use against the very people responsible for this education. Taking all of these disparate components and placing them together forms an unforgettable, layered crime drama that takes a very serious look at a few fascinating ideas, and emerges a major, defining work in arguably one of the most important careers in American cinema.