My first meeting with Gena Rowlands

by Cláudio Alves

The dedication at the end of Pedro Almodóvar' ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER (1999).

Yesterday, as The Film Experience's first foray into honoring Gena Rowlands drew to a close, I asked the readers: Can you remember how you first encountered her?

It's an interesting query since the introduction to an artist can set so much of one's relationship with them going forward. Personally, it's a matter of fascination because I remember so well when and where I first met the goddess that Cassavetes immortalized in his films. At least, I know the moment I became aware of Rowlands as someone I should pay attention to and treasure. It wasn't through any of her works, not directly. Instead, this brush with my actressexual fate came at the end of a tomato-red melodrama beset by maternal madness and a Spanish twist. Yes, I discovered Gena Rowlands through the dedication at the end of Pedro Almodóvar's All About My Mother...

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Goodbye, Gena Rowlands (1930-2024)

by Cláudio Alves

Gena Rowlands in OPENING NIGHT (1977) John Cassavetes

Two days ago, cinephiles worldwide were met with some sad news, tragic beyond belief. Gena Rowlands died at the age of 94 after a few years battling with dementia, as her son, Nick Cassavetes, had previously revealed to the public. It's a loss that defies comprehension because Rowlands' talent was just the same, a generational marvel whose importance can't be overstated. Cinema, especially independent American film, is what it is today because of her contribution. The same can be said about the art of screen acting, in general. So much so that even those who don't gel with her mercuriality must contend with Rowlands' place in the annals of history. 

Even as I loathe to use the term 'undeniable,' Rowlands is the exception to the rule. Consider her undeniable influence on countless artists. Consider the undeniable mark she left on those who watched her and felt themselves freefalling into the deepest recesses of the human soul, a chasm you love to get lost within…

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Almost There: Cary Grant in "The Awful Truth"

by Cláudio Alves

Since last month, the Criterion Channel has hosted a curated collection of screwball comedies, spanning the subgenre's pre-Code genesis to its postwar decline. Among the many screwy delights, you'll find The Awful Truth, Leo McCarey's 1937 classic, and a Best Director Oscar winner to boot. Indeed, the movie was most beloved by the Academy, scoring five additional nominations, including for Picture, Actress, and Supporting Actor. According to contemporary publications, that last honor was a relative surprise, especially since the movie's leading man was left off the ballot altogether.

You would think a major star associated with such an awards juggernaut would have an easy time nabbing themselves a coattails nomination, but Cary Grant was out of luck in 1937. Well, when it comes to the AMPAS, he was often unfortunate, only ever getting their seal of approval in the early 40s with a couple of dips into melodrama-land. Though much of the star's legacy relies on comedies, Old Hollywood voters seemed perpetually unimpressed by Grant's funny business. In that regard, The Awful Truth stands out as his most egregious snub…

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Dorian TV Awards: "Interview with the Vampire" and "Hacks" win big!

by Cláudio Alves

AMC's beautiful bloodsuckers vamped their way to three Dorian Awards.

As a proud new member of GALECA, I was overjoyed to vote on the Dorian TV Awards for the first time ever. Of course, I can't say I agree with every choice, but this is the way of judging art and prizes. Indeed, disagreement is part of the fun. Not that I'd ever say a word against the two awards juggernauts that took the Dorians by storm this television season. Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire surprises by taking three major categories, including Best Drama, while Hacks is the overall leader with four individual wins. But then, half of the Max comedy's victories were for its acting, which, along with the drama duo, makes one question the current system and the ever-present curse of category fraud. 

The complete winners' list, plus some personal ruminations, after the jump…

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"Harry and Tonto" @50: In defense of Art Carney's Oscar Win

by Cláudio Alves

After the dust settles and the rush of euphoria dissipates, an Oscar victory can be cause for woe rather than joy. Sometimes, a win is a loss in the big picture, even something of a curse. The effects may not be immediate or felt in the flesh by the prizewinner. Not in life, at least. It's their legacy that takes the toll. Those considered robbed will always have their defenders, misfortune becoming legend, another kind of validation no less impressive than the little gold man they failed to grasp. But those who the Academy rewarded are a different story. They become villains in recollection, mayhap fools. It's a sad affair because, more often than not, those whom history paints in these unfortunate colors are themselves robbed. The glory of victory isn't theirs to enjoy, merit buried by outrage over injustice. 

Such is the case of Art Carney, who won the Best Actor Oscar at the 47th Academy Awards for the now 50-year-old Harry and Tonto, besting such high-regarded turns as Pacino in The Godfather Part II and Nicholson in Chinatown. Did he deserve the prize? Maybe not. Does he deserve to have his triumph regarded as a mistake, a joke, a robbery? Hell no…

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