Assim Falou o Amor

Minnie Moore (Gena Rowlands) doesn't believe in the movies. As a girl, she fantasized about finding a Prince Charming in the shape of Humphrey Bogart or Clark Gable, living in a fancy house, and having kids the neighborhood could wince in jealousy over. But now Minnie's in her late 30s, fully aware that the man of her dreams probably doesn't exist. She swears that she's gotten used to the fact that reality isn't so rose-colored and things can't always turn out the way you want them to; but once you're a romantic you're always a romantic, and deep down, Minnie still finds herself hopeful that someday her Bogie will arrive on her doorstep.

Seymour Moskowitz (Seymour Cassel) is a free-spirited valet with no great ambitions in life, contented drifting from town to town, from bar to bar, causing ruckuses and speaking his mind. Ponytailed and handlebar-mustached, he has no problem with the judgmental world or his rotten temper, which seems to escalate from zero to sixty through the slightest provocation: bar fights are a norm in his life. But despite the ever mounting flaws that seem to continuously tarnish his character, he's a good man, just a lost one.

By chance, these two misfits meet after Minnie endures a particularly awful date; the man who took her out, a demented widower, nearly assaults her in a parking lot after she flatly rejects him. As if he's magnet for action-packed situations, Seymour flies to the rescue, knocking the date out and speeding away with Minnie in his beat-up pick-up truck. For Seymour, it's love at first sight; but for Minnie, this long-haired, hairy-lipped time-bomb is a red flag, not a Gable. Seymour, however, isn't the kind of guy that gives up a good woman when he sees one. So he spends the rest of "Minnie and Moskowitz" trying to win her over — and with their identical lonely hearts, it might not be so difficult after all.

"Minnie and Moskowitz" is John Cassavetes' warmest film, a quirky romantic comedy frequently raucous (Seymour has a quite a mouth) but also endearing, hopeful, lovable. The characters finding love aren't of Doris Day/Rock Hudson perfection but of damaged confidence, both completely lost in this game called life. It's a rom-com so real it's hard to even call it a rom-com, with the story unforced, the eventual marriage hasty enough to make even us have inhibitions. Minnie and Seymour are not conventionally likable (she's untrustworthy to the irritating max, he's so hot-tempered it's a wonder anyone talks to him), but because they're so much better together, their union is one of rare affection that suggests they really do love each other, though not in the way Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard taught us. Cassavetes dedicated "Minnie and Moskowitz" to the people who married for love, not comfort, and it's a worthy sanctification.

His other films are extraordinarily realistic, mostly telling stories of middle-aged people facing a cruel case of mid-life crisis blues. Here, it's the opposite: the middle-aged people face a cruel case of mid-life crisis blues before they find romance; and after they find their special someone, they are renewed. They become whole again after years of trying to find themselves. With its mostly improvised dialogue and no-holds-barred performances, "Minnie and Moskowitz" should be uncomfortable. But being the voyeur to a trial of love is an easy job, and Cassavetes lets his optimism shine through. Rowlands and Cassel are terrific.

Minnie and Moskowitz is the most pathetic and ungraceful love story I've ever seen. Between Minnie, a disillusioned museum curator whose abusive married boyfriend dumps her and leaves her even more uptight and confused than she already was, and Seymour Moskowitz, a parking attendant so desperate for attention that he spends his nights going to bars and restaurants aggravating people, there is a chaotic and disenchanted match from the start. Just like so many pairings that we see every day.

In nearly every love story, there is a man and a woman, the man being confident, funny, either classically hot or attractive in his own way, whose shortcomings are charming, and the woman a wounded soul who could have any man she wants who chooses this guy because there's just something about him. These movies make everyone feel so good because the characters embody what every man and woman wants to be, not what they are. Minnie and Moskowitz, instead of indulging in any hint of fantasy in the realm of romance, depicts people who may just be more common than the attractive, confident people with so much experience playing the field. What's the story behind the love affairs of the ugly, alarmingly awkward man with no life and no job that we all run into, or the woman so crippled by insecurity that it's difficult to talk to her?

This film is not as fascinating as Cassavetes's Faces or Opening Night, but it has that riveting quality that Cassavetes always fought so hard to render, which is an unbridled depiction of people underneath the ego that hides behind itself in nearly all other films. Gena Rowlands and Seymour Cassel, delivering startlingly pitiable people, are hardly likable. Moskowitz nearly drives us mad, let alone Minnie. He imposes himself so forcefully in her life, the dates are an explosion of the inner voices of ours that respond to the screamingly inept uneasiness on dates we've all been on, rejections we've all swallowed, and arguments we've all had that we know were our own faults. I admire a film like Minnie and Moskowitz because, as the trademark is with the films Cassavetes helmed himself, it identifies with us in 100% honesty. Our egos play no part in company with his characters, thus a tremendous achievement per performance by actor.

This light-heated (for Cassavetes)love story is pleasantly conveyed by two wonderful performances by Gena Rowlands and Seymour Cassell. Rowlands was never more beautiful as a repressed, damaged mid-30's woman who meets her match in Seymour. Cassell is a powderkeg of energy and romantic notions (on his terms).

There is a great supporting performance by Val Avery as Zelmo Swift and an unusual (as always) Timothy Carey that's worth the price of admission. Made between Husbands and A Woman Under the Influence this is Cass' most accessible film that should touch the heart of anyone (especially the Cassavetes haters) who claim his films are too long and ponderously heavy at times. Made my Top Ten that year and not seen by enough people. An 8 out of 10.

I feel as though I know these people and have known people similar to them. These days, though, people are discouraged from showing such passion about anything especially love and loneliness. It has a slow beginning, but then look out! If you love romantic comedies, but would like to see one that had some basis in reality for a change {or at least did have back in the 70's}, then you should see this movie!

One of John Cassavetes' greatest films is also one of his least known. He made it in 1971 and over the years it has been largely forgotten. I've seen it described as a romantic comedy and even as a screwball comedy but I found it very disturbing. It's not a comedy and I'm not even sure it's a love story. It's characters are all dysfunctional, unhappy people and Minnie and Moskowitz are the most dysfunctional of all.

She works in a museum and he works as a car-parking attendant and the film charts their hit and miss relationships, with each other and with other people. It is also largely improvised which gives it the feeling of life being lived in front of our eyes rather than simply being played out but these are people you definitely wouldn't want to know or maybe they aren't people at all but just extentions of Cassavetes' off-the-wall imagination.

It is magnificently acted by Cassavetes' repertory company of friends and family though at times it feels more like a series of classes at the Actor's Studio. Gena Rowlands is Minnie and Seymour Cassell is Moskowitz and they are superb as you would expect as indeed are everyone else, particularly Val Avery and Timothy Carey as men having meltdowns in restaurants and an uncredited Cassavetes as an unfaithful husband, while the cinematography of the three credited cinematographers, (Alric Edens, Michael Margulies and Arthur J. Ornitz), gives the film the documentary-like look the director obviously intended. This is independent cinema at its purest and most unrefined; scary, moving, rarely romantic. Just don't call it a comedy.