HUSBANDS: Saturdays are for the Boys

Trailer

To watch a John Cassavetes film is not to be entertained, but rather throttled and battered mercilessly but walk away glad to have had the experience. Pretentious film nerd comparisons aside, outside of perhaps his relatively breezy debut Shadows, Cassavetes was never one to dial back on his movies, whether in terms of emotional veracity or the generally laborious runtimes. Yet in these seemingly never-ending stories, Cassavetes is one of the few filmmakers to approach that magical fine line between illusion and reality, crafting stories about real people that ring so true to home that one suspects that they’re really watching a clandestine documentary. One of my favorites is Husbands, a treatise on male aging and existential angst that on the surface appears to be a celebration of debauchery but reveals something much more tragic at its core.

The film centers around three lifelong friends: Archie (Peter Falk), Gus (Cassavetes), and Harry (Ben Gazzara). After the death of the 4th member of their quartet, Harry decides he’s had enough of white-collar suburbia and runs off to London, his two friends in tow. Over the course of a few days, they quickly find that the freedom of bachelorhood isn’t what they once thought it was and their young stud days have long since left them behind.

From the opening scene of pool party home video stills set to funky instrumental music, Cassavetes immediately sets a perception of what these men are like: immature, boorish, and still convinced of their own youthful immortality. If you didn’t know any better, you might think you’re watching outtakes from Grown Ups. However, almost as fast as he has lulled the audience into a state of comfort, Cassavetes jarringly cuts to the trio at a funeral. The bright sepia tones of the nostalgia inducing opening are replaced by stark black and white shades, indicating the good times have come to a screeching halt. Cassavetes films are characterized by a reliance on handheld camerawork and minimalist camera movement, which helps cement the lack of energy the characters feel in the moment.

Conversely, rather than embark on a healthy path toward accepting the loss of their friend, the trio devolve into alcohol induced karaoke sessions at a bar and impromptu basketball games. While the dialogue in these scenes feels very off the cuff, it helps cement that there’s a lack of deeper emotional maturity to these guys. They can’t handle things through honest conversation, so they drown their problems through the same things they have for decades: sports, booze, and women.

Speaking of women, they serve as the film’s avatars for, lack of a better term, calling the trio out on their bullshit. Gazzara’s Harry is quickly revealed to be an abuser, near devolving into physical violence against his wife and mother in law before leaving for Europe. Gus attempts to hit on a woman at a casino in London, but while his attempts at talking about art or speaking in French seem brilliant to his character, it’s clear to the audience just how out of touch he really is. Nearly every scene of the men trying to hook up with the ladies they pick up ends in yelling and misunderstanding on their part, failing to see that their expectations of casual flings are far from reality.

Cassavetes as a director was never one for pomp or circumstance. Camerawork is always secondary to character, observing the subjects in front of the lens rather than framing them in a way as to elicit a certain response. Conversation is often filmed with static cameras and handheld camerawork is the name of the game in most instances. Tight close ups are utilized to force the audience to be uncomfortably close to the characters during their breakdowns, leaving us with that trademark Cassavetes cringe as we helplessly watch these characters self-destruct by their own mistakes. It’s this roughness that gives the film its documentary feel, bringing that veracity I alluded to earlier. 

Husbands is a hangout movie where the sense of camaraderie is replaced by a creeping sense of existential dread. Martin Scorsese once spoke of Cassavetes, pointing out that “[Cassavetes] insisted on having fun when making films while looking for some kind of truth…maybe even a revelation”, which is the key to unlocking Cassavetes’ filmography. The characters’ unbearable desire to break free from the doldrums of daily monotony only to find the other side is just as empty rings true in a way that few films can. The final shot of Gus walking back into his house with his kids is at once understated yet highly emblematic of the film’s message that chasing one’s lost youth is an exercise in futility.