A letter to Gena Rowlands, the Queen of Independent Cinema
Dear Ms. Rowlands,
This is now the third time I write to you, but this time things are different. You are no longer with us, at least not here on this Earth, but it really doesn’t matter. Your work and your legacy are and will forever be in our hearts.
Back in 2015 I sent you a fan letter along with photographs, asking you to sign them for me. Not only did you sign the photos but you also wrote kind dedications on them, saying that you enjoyed my letter. That meant so much to me. I will never forget it! I was then struggling with my graduation and Brazil was facing the beginning of a huge crisis. Almost ten years later, things are still not very promising here, but I think the worst finally came to an end.
I wrote to you again in 2021 and again I received autographed pictures. I noticed that you usually answered your fan mail with red ink sharpies, so I presume red was one of your favorite colors — so is mine! By the way, you always looked good in red. In black as well. In any color actually, since you are one of the most beautiful women (inside and out) ever to grace the silver screen, a real thrill to look at and to listen to — well, at least in my humble opinion. Speaking of silver, sometimes you would sign the photos in silver, especially on darker photographs, for the autograph to be more visible. I have this movie shot from Faces inscribed by you and it’s one of my most cherished autographs. After over two hundred responses from celebrities (and lots of money spent, lots of anxiety, waiting and yearning), I decided to retire from fan mail. I have no regrets whatsover. I just have other interests in my life now, like traveling for instance. I hope I will be able to finally visit the US in the near future.
But I’m digressing. I want to talk about your remarkable body of work, at least a little bit because you made so many wonderful films through the years, so it’s quite hard to choose only a few.
Oddly enough, the first film I saw you in was not a John Cassavetes’ one (I’ll get to him in a moment), not even The Notebook. It was Woody Allen’s Another Woman (1988).
I was still a teenager when I really fell in love with old films and could not stop watching them in loop. During my teens I felt lonely and awkward; paraphrasing Almodóvar (another fan of yours), only cinema seemed to fill the empty spaces of my life… And still, years later, I kind of feel the same way. At that time I was a 16-year-old guy seeing loads of classic/cult films with few friends, no social life and little experience in anything. The movies directed by Woody Allen appealed to me greatly, and his few dramas caught my attention: Interiors, September and… Another Woman mostly. I was quite young but I could deeply relate to your character, Marion. The anguish, the existencial crisis, the feeling of emptiness, the search for Hope — in the film, Mia Farrow’s character is named Hope, a mysterious woman who happens to be pregnant. Sometimes I think of hope as some sort of waiting or expectation. I don’t really know if hope is something good or bad, probably neither. It is just a feeling that eventually comes up and suddenly disappears.
Then I learned that Allen was inspired by Ingmar Bergman, whom I happened to discover more about later, and figured out that Another Woman was similar to Wild Strawberries. I miss my innocence of those wonder years, when everything was fresh and new and exciting to me. Yet, though I can often feel very lonely and lost in life, some other times I can find myself in peace like your character in the end of the picture. When I am not happy or sad — I am just being. Similar to Marion, I wonder if a memory is something you have or something you’ve lost (with Gymnopédie No 1 by Erik Satie playing in the corners of my mind).
Not long after this catharsis, some others followed. It was very late, maybe a sleepless Saturday night; there I was watching a John Cassavetes’ film on TV, my first one: Love Streams. Long, odd, awkward… and fascinating! I loved it. Completely different from anything I had seen before. I couldn’t help myself and laughed at some moments, like your stand-up comedy moment or when you fall on the floor playing bowling.
Needless to say, the chemistry between you and John was sparkling (even though you two were playing siblings in the film haha). I was mesmerized by this kind of cinema, I mean, independent film. If I ever make a film (something I have aspired to do for such a long time), John will definitely be one of my greatest inspirations. In a world full of cheap phonies and fakeness, his movies feel so real, passionate and full of life. You are both true artists.
I published a poetry book years ago, something I’m proud of, but I feel I still have a lot to do, a lot to live and a lot to express and create… During my darkest moments, I try to remember creative people like you and all the wonderful things you did.
Another memorable moment of my cinephile adolescence: watching Opening Night on the big screen on a Wednesday night in São Paulo, at Cinemateca Brasileira. Although I lived in São Paulo, the movie theater was far away from my home and I remember the screening ended very late. There I was, going home at almost midnight, all by myself in the middle of dark, empty streets. Again, I was frightened and alone but it was all plenty of excitement at the same time. Cinema was everything I had. Years later, I wrote a semi-autobiographical novel named He Skipped Classes and Went to the Movies.
Myrtle Gordon was not alien to me. Like her, like Mabel from A Woman Under the Influence (your best work, in my opinion), we can all lose the reality of reality once in a while. For a long time, I had been a crazy fan of movie stars like the killed autograph hound girl. Nowadays I’m calmer and not that fanatic anymore, but my admiration for you remains unchanged.
To conclude my little incursion into your filmography, I decided to pick Strangers: The Story of a Mother and a Daughter (1979), an underrated made-for-TV film that begs for a restoration and a new release. We are both Bette Davis fans, so I can imagine how much you enjoyed the experience of working with her. It’s a simple but very endearing film. I miss these unpretentious TV movies they used to make in the 1970s, 80s and 90s. I just wish they were available in better quality and were easier to find, so more people could see them…
We movie lovers are all a bunch of selfish people and would like you to be physically immortal, just like we always wish our beloved ones lived forever… Anyhow, what I do know is that now you are in peace. Through your movies and in our memories, you are still pretty much alive. I know Cassavetes saw film as some way of immortality. I believe you both became indeed immortal.
I hope my words will reach you. Somehow…
Love,
Pedro
