Cassavetes pursued Falk for the role of Nick Longhetti after their Husbands co-star Ben Gazzara dropped out due to scheduling issues. The two were at writer-director Elaine May’s house for a pre-production meeting on Mikey and Nicky when Cassavetes shared the Woman script with them both. Falk claimed that he had been so irritated by Cassavetes’ chaotic directing on Husbands that he had vowed never to sign up for it again, but Woman was compelling enough to persuade him (May was also briefly considered for the role of Mabel’s mother). Subverting the charming persona viewers associated with Columbo, Falk’s performance simmers with inner conflict that complexifies Nick beyond the rote, domineering husband archetype. At every moment, Nick appears profoundly uncertain.

Cassavetes’ consideration of himself as an actor first and a writer-director second made for an equivalent bias in his directorial style: he prioritized performance above all else, and was always willing to make technical sacrifices in favor of emotional veracity. Rebuking traditional blocking and lighting, he would light sets in entirety so that the actors could move freely at their will, and used long lenses to shoot them from a distance, believing the scenes felt more organic without the camera at close range.

For Cassavetes, this approach felt “more like documentary work,” which he enjoyed, but it was challenging for his crew, many of whom quit during filming. Even the actors sometimes struggled with their director being too hands-off: “On John’s pictures, there wasn’t a sharp demarcation between when you were shooting or when you weren’t shooting,” said Falk. “Sometimes you would be shooting and you didn’t even know it.”

However maddening—if not downright manipulative—his methods, Cassavetes conjured incendiary performances despite and because of them. For instance: when Rowlands sought direction about how to play the scene where Mabel returns home from the hospital, Cassavetes deliberately refused to give her notes, predicting that Rowlands’ frustration would lead to a more explosive performance. Instead, Rowlands played the scene in a way that took him by surprise: Mabel shrinks into herself, speaking softly and moving gingerly, practically holding her breath.

“No emotions now,” she whispers. “I really want to be calm.” Tears brim in her eyes as she embraces her children, but she pulls herself away before they fall. “She was expressing fear, which separated her from the people she loved. Gena’s interpretation showed me how frightened Mabel was,” Cassavetes said. “What Gena did was like poetry. It altered the narrative of the piece.”

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