BBD Comments:
The post film discussion demonstrated one thing for sure, good or bad, Netti’s picks tend to provoke strong reactions.
I felt somewhat taken aback by our astute Mr. Wiener’s suggestion (echoed later and in different terms by Nubby) that as an unmarried and fatherless man I was somehow unable to understand or relate to this film. I hate that shit. This is the language and perspective of isolationists and elitists. As though my friends who are married and have children have any real understanding of what it is to remain unmarried until they are in their thirties. Are they then less equipped to understand me? Perhaps. In the end we all have different life experiences than every other person. While Wiener and Nubs have a much deeper understanding of fatherhood than I do, it does not mean that I am less equipped to understand the “meaning” of myths like Daedalus and Icarus or The Prodigal Son. There are certainly no hard feelings about either of my esteemed friend’s point, but I would suggest that the more you view your circumstance as distancing you from others who do not share them, the more likely you are to end up feeling totally lost, misunderstood, and eager to act like the total bonehead Burt Lancaster plays in this campy piece of shit.
I have always loved Netti’s Selections. From his grossly ill-timed presentation of ‘Rosemary’s Baby,’ to his miraculous ability to bring ‘My Dinner with Andre’ triumphantly to the Stucco, Netti has always found a way to thread the needle. Always, that is, until ‘The Swimmer.’ Get ready MONA, cause here it comes – I believe ‘The Swimmer’ is the worst pick in Movienight History.
Though I haven’t read Cheever’s short story (or much else of his work save ‘The Chosen,’[sic]) I have little doubt that this story functions far better on the page. As a film, even excusing the excesses of its period, it comes across as pop-philosophy camp. The overblown and asinine score from the oily Marvin Hamlisch, the severe and measured tone of the truly great (elsewhere) Burt Lancaster, and the ridiculous and repetitive ham-handed direction of Frank Perry conspire to make ‘The Swimmer’ at best laughable – and at worst, self-important garbage.
Perhaps if I were married with children I would take interest in the mysteries presented by the dark figure of Ned Merrill. Perhaps I would wonder if this was truly happening in just one day. I might ask if he feared the young boy’s suicide because he (or his wife, or his daughters) contemplated such a choice. I might be curious as to how much money he has borrowed and from how many people. I might be surprised that there was no one waiting for him in his unkempt home. Perhaps if I had children I would know this film was good. But childless as I am, I know this film is not.
I can’t blame a film for the period in which it was made, but I can blame a film maker for being so beholding to fashion that their work ceases to be timeless. ‘The Swimmer,’ for all of its accolades elsewhere, strikes me as a film about the tragedy of suburban ennui that fails to make a case for why I ought to care about the tragedy of suburban ennui. ‘American Beauty’ deals with similar themes, but at least the characters in that flawed, though superior, film live far enough away from the story’s allegory that I don’t drown in it.
Beyond the film itself, I wish we had projected this across Mr. Wiener’s pool. Perhaps that environment would have served to engage me more than I feel the film deserved. As it was though, all of the wonderful Back Yards in this film made me long even more to be back outside again. I will say this, Pat Towne was talking way too much through this film, and as I don’t remember silencing him, I hope I wasn’t guilty of the same. I hereby deputize all those who come to watch in our temporary home with the authority to shut up anyone – myself included.
Netti, thanks for the continued willingness to risk on Wednesday nights. I always look forward to your Picks. Sorry I couldn’t get behind you on this one.
Onwards.
Brandon Comments:
It’s strange: While actually watching ‘The Swimmer’ at this past Movienight I, quite honestly, didn’t like it at all. It felt like a TV show that I was forced to watch at Grandma’s place when I was a kid – actually, I overheard one of my brethren actually say, “I think I’ve seen it before, a long time ago, but I thought it was an episode of The Hulk.” And that’s the way ‘The Swimmer’ comes off. And although Burt Lancaster offered a stellar performance as a once-socialite neighbor now broke and alone, I still couldn’t help look at his brown leathered face and think to myself, “My God, grandma’s old purse is talking to me…and it has shiny white teeth.”
And then after the film, as we all sat around and discussed Lancaster, the plot, the idea of the character having Alzheimer’s, and those weird dreamy film sequences with deer grazing, and then that gay-as-all-hell race between Burt and the horse – well, I still felt the same about ‘The Swimmer’ as I did while watching it: like I had spent two hours watching my Uncle Craig exercise.
But then something happened… It was the following day, a Thursday, a little overcast and gray, but good for the psyche. The vision of Burt Lancaster smiling popped into my head while driving, then the scene where Burt goes too far with the blonde babysitter, then I started thinking about how his wife left him yet almost everything that comes out of his mouth is about how well she is doing, waiting for him at home. And then his daughters, and inviting the little boy over to play with them, and that last conversation with the woman by the pool with whom he had an affair with…and it sounded like he had her mixed up with another woman. And then the Alzheimer’s disease idea again. And right about there was when I realized how heavy this film is – how amazing it is. Although dated and very corny, ‘The Swimmer’ is a haunting film. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it an epic or a masterpiece, and I will most likely never ever rent it, this film is still a powerful tale, and one I will seriously never forget.
Great job, Netti. Your film was a Postponed Dagger Cut – you don’t feel the severity of the impact until a day after the slice. This film fucked me up.
Buffy Comments:
Seeing as we’ve been denied the outdoors lately, it was nice to enjoy a film that takes place only outdoors…the final scenes of ‘The Swimmer’ actually left me a little chilly even though we were nice and cozy in Tooda’s hospitable viewing room. Though, that’s the strongest reaction it got out of me, I confess. Besides the borderline-glee I always feel when something strikes me like a sequence from ‘Fantasy Island’ where the visitor’s one wish has a dark side (those were always the ones I liked best, except for the ones with Charo or Barbi Benton).
I read this story in high school and found it confusing. I figured if I saw the movie, the story would make more sense. Seeing the film made me think I should re-read the story in hopes to make sense of the movie. I now think that the swimming across the county thing just isn’t going to stick with me. Well, the swimming is all right as an idea but I just could give a shit about the anti-hero and his creepy delusions. I mean, the babysitter? You’re going to pick her up every day for lunch and walk her home and take care of her? That combo of creepy and deluded=opportunity to snicker at tragedy. I don’t know, maybe I’m missing the whole point and the thing was, he was upset because he never got a pool of his own. Now, that I can understand. He had so much and lost it all but didn’t even lose his pool because he didn’t have one. Fool. Should have put that in instead of the tennis courts. But isn’t that just like him?
The film as a whole took itself so over-the-top seriously, I just couldn’t find any room in myself to take it seriously at all. I was left with the feeling that everyone on this set was doing massive amounts of coke at the time, which is probably not true but that’s the kind of product we have here, the product of egos raging ahead of storytelling.
Netti, you so crazy. That was funny and scary, just like hanging out with a seriously crazy alcoholic! I can’t call it a Slam Dunk, but it was cool. I will say, Burt Lancaster does look great in his swim trunks, and I hope that style of trunks returns full-force to men’s beach fashions.
Nubs Comments:
Very impressive that Netti was able to find a pick that had a lead with the same name as his, though it was Neddy. Also very impressive that Netti found the perfect pick for our swimming pool equipped new Back Yard location, though we’re still stuck indoors on a perfect night. It is notably impressive that Netti could pull out another artistically provocative piece that would have us wondering whether to laugh out loud or be quietly sympathetic. In general, I was impressed with this weird gem, ‘The Swimmer.’ It seemed to capture the hearts of the married men and dads while the others mocked it (save Pat who was too busy playing Mystery Science Theatre 3000 to consider letting the rest of us have an opinion).
Either ‘The Swimmer,’ or its tightly packed audience, or its smoky environment drove me to what is known as the tipping point. It was so over the top melodramatic and campy that I ended up respecting the tone and what the film was saying. Perhaps the sunlight in the trees got to me but I felt the story and it’s metaphors served the tone well. In this society, everyone is reflected by his or her pool. Neddy experiences life through other people’s backyards because as is terribly predictable, he does not have one himself. He swims through a seemingly perfect life keeping up appearances until the harsh cold rain of reality overtakes him and there’s no shelter for the daydreamer.
With the horse sequence followed closely by the upper class nudists, I had extreme confidence in our director and our SELECTOR’s awareness of its comically over-dramatic style. Both Frank Perry and Ben Simonetti are true artists willing to knock us over the head with a smile to consider their theme. As the movie began to mature into a tragic drama I was quite pleased with its matchless performances and one of a kind tone, especially for its time. I have to admit I was quite disappointed with the ending. Like Neddy, we seemed to have come so far from the camp of the beginning of the film that the end dragged on excruciatingly long. We know exactly what he will see when he gets to the unkempt gates of his home. The rain, the crying, the pounding, and the indoor shot that breaks the film’s greatly unique rule of never being indoors, made me lose faith in its direction. It makes a very concise 95-minute movie drag endlessly.
I also respect Netti the artist making a bold statement or joke by showing us such a perfect outdoor summer movie as his indoor contribution, However, I can’t get past how utterly perfect it would have been in the Back Yard by the pool and the trees and the wind, and the- oh, why, Netti, why? It is appropriately ironic yet it is still the worst-timed pick since Coolbaugh robbed us of ‘Jaws’ (July 4th on Wednesday this year, ‘Jaws’ was shown in February).
I regret that I had to duck out of what sounded like an interesting post film discussion. If I had been there I probably wouldn’t have gotten a word in. If I had been there and gotten a word in, I would have expressed my admiration for this film I have never known of, and our SELECTOR for challenging us with something in English. Oh, Netti.
SELECTOR Comments:
In my preamble, despite the slight giveaway of the pick by naming the short story author and Burt Lancaster, I believe I uttered through metaphor the clearest expression of my understanding of this film. That is, this film is one that extends beyond the little DVD box that it comes in. When I was at the video store I was struck by how small and pointless so many films seemed to me; hundreds of people spending hundreds of hours working on this project or that, will be placed into a little box with flashy colors. Like so many packs of bubble gum to a kid in the dime store, when confronted with an overwhelming variety, one becomes unavailable to the possibility that any one might hold a particular value. To carry this further, when one watches a film the experience itself seems to get smaller simply because it is contained in a box on the shelf. What wonderment can be couched in such a fashion?
‘The Swimmer’ has enlarged in my mind, largely because there is so much left to the viewer. I'm assuming the short story by John Cheever does the same for the reader, but for a film maker the film viewer's knowledge of the source text is generally assumed to be absent. Subtlety, management, clarity, completion; all descriptors of competence when it comes to filmmaking. However, nonexistent are these in Frank Perry's rendering of this material. I would argue that most art is created by elimination (to borrow from F.W. Murnau). Apart from the initial vision, most action is in defense against a perceived mistake, a vulnerability that will lose the viewer; the operative principle being one of fear. The conscious allowance for incompletion, for gaps, is earnest and fearless. In this construction, we the viewers/readers have the opportunity to participate in the creation. Where has Ned Merrill been before the film begins? How long has he been simply wandering in his swimsuit? How is it that no one seems to have seen him in some time, yet he appears in the most casual of circumstances mostly uninvited? How much of his understanding of the world is imagined? How detached from reality is Neddy?
We take for granted that this beautiful body and warm smile that is seemingly appreciated by all (at least at the outset), is on an harmless afternoon jaunt. At the beginning, we see one who is loved for his peculiarity and his simple beauty of being. His manner does not really change but the manner in which people relate to him does. The repetition of encountering a new group of friends or acquaintances are fugue-like; additional voices added to the subject highlighting different notes and accents in Neddy's persona as the piece develops. And as the journey continues we realize that Ned Merrill is not loved but discounted, dismissed and ultimately disengaged from reality itself. The film is not perfect. It is not tightly crafted. It is gaudy and loose. However, I would say that these are the very components of its effectiveness and I would say that cinematic experiences such as these are largely a thing of the past. And judging by some of the reactions by my colleagues at Movienight that is not necessarily to be lamented.
It is an experience that is neither measured neatly nor constructed according to Hollywood conventions, which usually result in the experience ending at the end of the film. I for one will hold on to this haunting piece as an example of the irregular and the risky, that opens a door but leaves it to the viewer to close it.
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