watching burt lancaster cut through the cold water of an unendurable reality as he makes his way upriver to his lost dreams i think i learned few pointers to improve my own strokes. in fred perry's 1968 film the swimmer, lancaster plays ned merrill, who has removed his white shoes and stripped off his brooks brothers suit as he swims from pool to pool across posh society suburbs on his way to retrieve himself from the deeps. while each of us that takes those long laps in the blue has ample opportunity, between the edges of the pool, to contemplate the why's and wherefore's of our damp compulsion, it seems that ned's belief in his swimming abilities has us all outclassed. as is often said - denial is not just a river in egypt, it seems to also flow through a series of connecticut backyards....
i love this movie. the beginning is great, when the couple are nursing their hangovers and Burt shows up, strapping and fresh, full of vim and vigor and ready for a beautiful day. but then the day chugs along and "things are not what they seem..."
Posted by: burt westchester | 28 January 2008 at 15:20