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…