Anatomy of a Scene: Gena Rowlands confronts the Doctor – ‘A Woman Under the Influence’
The artistry of John Cassavetes‘ 1974 magnum opus A Woman Under the Influence runs through every frame of the two-and-a-half-hour runtime. It’s not an easy watch, but if you’re in the right mood, it may well be one of the most engaging films you’ll ever see. The cast is a superb mixture of unknowns, non-actors from the street and some heavy hitters, too. Columbo fans will no doubt already be aware of the long-standing collaboration between Peter Falk and Cassavetes. But, as the name suggests, the film’s focus is a woman, and that woman is Gena Rowlands.
Wife to and creative partner of Cassavetes, Rowlands appears in almost all of his filmography. That isn’t nepotism. As the Godfather of indie cinema, Cassavetes must have been eternally grateful that the actor he married was not just good but the finest female actor of the 20th century. If you think that’s a bold statement, you’re wrong; it’s common sense. That’s the one hill I’ll die on – just ask my cat Genie. Rowlands is staggering in everything she appears in, and for Cassavetes, scrabbling to get cash for his next low-budget movie, it must have been the one source of security knowing he was guaranteed the world’s most outstanding actor. For Woman Under the Influence, he made sure that his film was all about showcasing Rowlands.
As I said, every frame is artistry, but there’s one particular scene which really defines both the movie and (in my humble opinion) Rowlands’ entire range as an actor. In the scene, a doctor has been summoned to their home to calm down an increasingly erratic Mabel (Rowland’s character). Throughout the film, we’ve questioned Mabel’s behaviour, with Rowlands expertly straddling a precarious line of eccentricity and mental illness. We’ve been uncertain whether she’s just a really kooky mother, or if there’s something clinically wrong with her. When Falk’s character Nick, husband to Mabel, calls the doctor to the house, we finally understand there’s a history of actual mental illness. The anticipation builds as the doctor enters the house, and the vulnerability, the trepidation, and the wild desperation are so palpable in Mabel’s demeanour that you could almost reach out and touch them.
Rowlands masterfully portrays a woman teetering on the edge with her unique blend of method and madness. After several minutes of feigning nonchalance, making small talk, rubbing her face and pushing back her hair in a desperate bid to project normality, she starts to crack. “He’s got something in that bag,” she half-laughs, half-sobs, and the terror beneath her words sends a chill down your spine. Her eyes, wide and haunted, dart from her husband to the doctor and then to that dread-inspiring bag. It’s as if the bag is a Pandora’s Box of her worst fears, and the way she utters that line, it’s like a plea for anyone to stop what’s coming. Part of the genius is we don’t know whether she’s completely delusional or has actual grounds to fear what’s in there.
“He’s got something in that bag!”
The magic of Rowlands lies in her ability to convey so much with so little. Her Mabel is fragile, but a hint of defiance, even hardness, flickers now and then, a fierce determination to keep going. The bravado to mask the fear and desperation constantly bubbling beneath the surface is undercut by nerve-induced ticks, eye twitches, and face scratches that give away her fragility. Every gesture, every inflexion of her voice, is a masterstroke of acting as Mabel tries to retain control of her life, dignity, and sanity.
And then, the moment the doctor reaches into the bag, the scene’s climax, Rowlands lets loose a torrent of brief yet raw, unchecked emotion: “He’s got something in that bag!” The restraint she’s been holding onto snaps, and Mabel crumbles under the weight of her fears. It’s an emotional tsunami, a portrayal so powerful and so authentic that it leaves you breathless. “Am I right, Nick!?” she repeatedly screams, demanding validation for her fears. “Am. I. Right. Nick?”
The doctor, clearly well-versed in Mabel’s episodes, completely disarms her by asking her for a drink. She giggles hysterically with relief; it’s as if they both know by falling back into this archaic rhythm of ‘housewife fetching man a drink’, the doctor has given her a pass and let her off the hook. The scene ends having taken you on a rollercoaster of suspense, fear, sadness and relief. A woman under the influence, indeed – but more than that, an actor under the influence of an unrivalled talent for embodying the human condition in all its raw, messy and chaotic glory.
