So Husbands begins with photographs of four men, flexing. TONS of flexing. Then they are at a funeral, one of the men has died, and there are three left. Then three men begin to drink and they do not appear to stop. The film is completely raucous. The beginning portion contains screaming and singing and running around in the most ridiculous manner. It's three men being reduced to children, or perhaps even reducing themselves to children. There's an intense craving in the men to be someone who they aren't, and the film might in some ways document their failure to be anything but: HUSBANDS. The film is exactly what I've come to expect from Cassavetes. Long, wandering scenes. Lots of jokes and laughing, although I can't say the laughing really comes from me. But I am entertained. There's so much childishness and liveliness... I love to think about where the honesty is in a Cassavetes film. Although the existence of it is probably futile, there is still something terribly engaging about trying to find it. I would want to watch the film again, despite it's length and its sluggish pace (but we must've come to expect that), there's something appealing and hypnotic about it.