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OK, this might not be to
everyone’s tastes. Some may say it’s self-indulgent or perhaps just a show-offy
excuse for the actors to flex their thespian muscles. I’ll struggle to argue
against either of those accusations but at the same time I can’t help loving
it.
The
film starts with a death. A friend of Archie (Peter Falk), Ben Gazarra (Harry),
and Gus (John Cassavetes) falls victim to the hard-drinking, heavy-smoking
lifestyle that they all embrace. The three remaining friends deal with it by heavily
drinking and smoking their way through the process of mourning. This
magnificent binge carries them from the funeral in New York all the way to
London, where they try to drink, gamble and womanise the pain away. It’s also a
doomed attempt at shirking the responsibility that comes with middle age.
This triumvirate of acting
talent burn up the screen. The three men spar
with one another relentlessly – there are struggles of power as each attempts
to out ‘Alpha’ the others. Archie and Gus often cruelly gang up on Harry
lending credence to the maxim of three being a crowd. They argue, fight and
giggle in such an authentic way it feels more documentary than a work of
fiction. Some scenes don’t even seem to have a point but it’s so raw and
vibrant it does make for compelling viewing. It’s a great drunk film too,
capturing the highs, lows and general messiness of a marathon sesh.
It’s often uncomfortable
viewing. Scenes run longer than the perceived wisdom might rule. And I mean
much longer. You might even describe them as gruelling. But within these scenes
appear moments that are just solid gold.
Although barely into the
decade - unselfconsciously styled against a backdrop of real locations - it’s a
wonderful window to the seventies. As with all of Casavettes’ work there is
nothing neat about the film. In a true reflection of life itself, it is scrappy
and chaotic with no loose ends conveniently tied up.
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