THE LONG HOT SUMMER: Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox, 1958) Twilight Time

Martin Ritt’s The Long Hot Summer (1958) serves as a reminder of what used to pass in American movie houses as quaint ‘erotica’; the sight of a taut and rippling Paul Newman, poured into his sleeveless and sweat-soaked undershirt or – even better – shirtless, casually clutching a pillow as his alter ego, enterprising grifter and hunk du jour, Ben Quick mercilessly goads a sexually repressed Clara Varner (Joanne Woodward) from the veranda adjacent her bedroom. Newman’s raw masculinity, likely sent palpitating impulses to quicken the pace of female theater patrons’ hearts. There are parallels here between Quick and Brick Pollitt, the character Newman played in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (also released in 1958); also, Chance Wayne, the notoriously flawed Lothario he would reincarnate to perfection for 1962’s Sweet Bird of Youth. The latter two characters are cut from the earthy Southern Samson loincloth of playwright, Tennessee Williams who, perhaps better than most, understood how best to tastefully upset the potency of pent-up male/female sexual frustration. Sex – fundamental, yet in Williams’ prolific career, broodingly – almost perversely – agitated by man’s (and woman’s) fears of inadequacy and/or ruminating denial of the impulse itself, unhealthily re-channeled into other misguided pursuits, detoured flagrante delictos, and, arranged/unhappy marriages.

Paul Newman’s great gift to the movies has always been a seeming ambivalence towards his own testosterone-infused attractiveness, married to an ability to cold filter it through his inimitable brand of insolence, effortlessly translating into raw animal magnetism at a glance. Point blank: Newman just exudes sex appeal without even trying. Considering his formidable acting chops, the art of the tease comes naturally to him and he uses it, not only to tear down the heroine’s inhibitions, but also, to wrap the audience around his little finger. In The Long, Hot Summer, Newman’s tart-mouthed Quick roils with uninhibited carnal charisma, both as a counterbalance and an anathema to Clara’s Victorian prudery, and, a real elixir for her sister-in-law, the loose and liberated Eula (Lee Remick). We would, of course, be remiss in not exuding the charms of Remick, that luminous and honey-haired sweetheart who, like Newman, could as easily reveal smarmy sensuality as frolicsome sincerity with barely a raised eyebrow. Remick’s screen persona in the fifties played up the ‘liberated’ angle, teetering dangerously close to that unattractive vantage known as ‘slut city’. And yet, Remick is never cheap – despite her déclassé and ‘come hither’ glances; her exuberant and attractive frame, form-fitted into projectile braziers, pasted over in stretch fabrics to exaggerate those natural perky curves.  We said goodbye to Lee Remick much too soon, claimed by liver and kidney cancer at the age of 55 in 1991. Since her passing, her reputation as a consummate pro has only continued to ripen with age. In The Long, Hot Summer she is decidedly subservient to the Newman/Woodward on again/off again flint of romantic antagonism. Yet, she manages with considerable ease to hold her own as ‘the third wheel’. And she is delicious to observe, even as background wallpaper in scenes dominated by her costars’ combative volatility. 

Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank Jr.’s screenplay for The Long, Hot Summer is, of course, a reworking of three works by another imminent writer, William Faulkner: Spotted Horses, a 1931 novella, Barn Burning – a short story published in 1939 and 1940’s full-fledged novel, The Hamlet: the movie’s title gleaned from ‘Hamlet’s Book III – minus the ‘hot’. Nevertheless, the picture owes much of its success, and sensuality to Tennessee Williams; Ravetch and Frank influenced by MGM’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and shifting the movie’s focus from the novel’s Flem Snopes and his family to the more rakishly handsome and notorious, Ben Quick. Indeed, except for retaining names and thumbnail plot points from all three Faulkner masterworks, there is precious little Faulkner in The Long, Hot Summer, transparently predisposed to Tennessee Williams. As Newman had already shot Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (released several months after The Long, Hot Summer) he was well-acquainted with the slow burn (pun intended) of his rough and tumble upstart, herein pitted against the rigid morality and bigoted code of a small, and seemingly inbred clan; wealthy land owners, since made relics on their decaying and isolated plantations.  As Will Varner, the ‘Big Daddy-esque’ purveyor of all he sees – though not necessarily all to his liking – director, Martin Ritt cast the formidable Orson Welles, whose girth is enhanced with prosthetics to exaggerate his slovenly physicality. Yet, its Welles indomitable spirit that sets the tone for Will Varner’s imposing stature; that and Welles’ superior command of the southern drawl (often, inaudible without fully pricked ears). In later years, Welles’ real-life obesity would mirror, overshadow, and, finally, blur the lines between fiction and fact.

By 1958, Welles was already considered persona non grata in Hollywood thanks to a series of high-profile misfires and outright flops. Producer, Jerry Wald had his misgivings about hiring him; sentiments echoed inside 2oth Century-Fox’s front offices. Nevertheless, Ritt was insistent on Welles, a decision he would come to rue when Welles began making demands on the production, remaining in character even when the cameras were not rolling and fairly intimidating much of the cast. Only co-star, Angela Lansbury found Welles amusing, his refusal to memorize lines, forcing Ritt to re-dub much of his dialogue in the editing room during post-production. The on-set altercations between Ritt and Welles escalated daily, culminating in ‘the incident’ that garnered media attention. The location shoot for The Long, Hot Summer was besought by inclement weather. A good portion of the picture was shot in and around Clinton and Baton Rouge, Louisiana in Fox’s patented Cinemascope with DeLuxe color. But the heat, frequent delays from torrential rain, and the stifling humidity conspired to try everyone’s patience. Hence, on an afternoon when the weather did cooperate, Ritt was to discover Welles as yet not ready to shoot his scene, rather, indulging in a Spanish newspaper. Unruffled, Ritt simply prepared the next scene, virtually ignoring Welles for the rest of the day. Humiliated, but more inwardly ashamed than outwardly perturbed, Welles sheepishly hurried along. To be upstaged by Ritt again would have signaled a level of un-professionalism Welles would never entertain. Nevertheless, when production wrapped, director and star had nothing but conciliatory things to say about each other in the press. But neither ever forgot this moment, Ritt earning the reputation ‘Orson tamer’ in Hollywood because of it.

The Long, Hot Summer begins with a prologue; a barn going up in flames. Grifter, Ben Quick is apprehended by the local sheriff and accused of starting the blaze. Quick remains silent, though already pre-judged as guilty. Unfortunately for the law, there is no proof he is an arsonist. And so, Ben is encouraged to get out of town…or else; the ‘else’ likely a lynching by the embittered townsfolk. We momentarily regress to some picturesque shots of a freighter travelling down the muddy Mississippi, the banks on either side lazily dripping with dense foliage as composer, Alex North’s sublime title tune, wed to lyrics by Sammy Cahn strikes up; dissonant chords counterbalanced by singer, Jimmie Rodgers’ silken smooth vocals. At once, director, Martin Ritt has perfectly set the tone for this steamy, sex-soaked melodrama. Wading to shore, Ben is picked up by Eula and Clara in her sporty Cadillac convertible. Ben misjudges them as ‘country girls’; an opinion quickly refuted by the more talkative and flirtatious Eula. In town, Ben takes in the local color. Asked what folks do for a living, he is informed just about everything – including setting up homemade distilleries to market moonshine. We learn Eula is married to Jody (Anthony Franciosa), Will’s son - sensitive and as easily wounded by his father’s stern governance over his future. By rights, Jody ought to inherit the family’s Frenchman’s Bend plantation, built in the antebellum tradition and attending to those principles gleaned from another time and place in the South’s history. Indeed, Maurice Ransford and Lyle R. Wheeler’s art direction, and, Eli Benneche and Walter M. Scott’s set decoration are dangerously close to plagiarizing wholesale the Southern Gothic accoutrements of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.  

It does not take long for Ben to catch the attentions of sexually frustrated neighbor gal, Agnes Stewart (Sarah Marshall). Agnes knows a good hunk of man when she sees it. But Clara is unimpressed by Ben, finding him uncouth and hardly her equal. Indeed, she would likely turn down any man who crossed her doorstep, hardened against men in general by her own father’s philandering with town tart, Minnie Littlejohn (Angela Lansbury). Ben takes a job on the Varner’s farm. But before he leaves their posh main house, he wipes his muddy boots on the handwoven rug in their foyer. Determined to set a standard from the outset, Clara and one of the houseboy’s carry the rug to the ramshackle shanty Jody has agreed to ‘rent’ Ben while he works the land for them, ordering him to clean it before Will’s return from the hospital later that evening. Ben is intrigued, knowing, although Clara adamantly denies it, he has aroused some dishonorable intentions within her. Despite the family’s best laid plans, Will’s homecoming is hardly an occasion to celebrate. The sixty-one-year-old curmudgeon wastes no time holding court on his veranda, berating Jody for his lackadaisical management of the estate in his absence and giving Clara the third degree about her lack of gentlemen callers. According his outdated view, women are for child-bearing, not reading poetry alone in their bedrooms.  Clara finds this sort of talk revolting. But Jody attempts more diplomatically to suggest respect is at least owed for his competent – if not trailblazing – supervision of the plantation’s daily operations while Will has been recuperating. Too bad for Ben, Jody is aware of his reputation as a ‘barn burner’ and aims to have him run off his land immediately.

Funny thing: Will and Ben hit things off almost from the moment they lay eyes on each other; the ornery overseer, used to having things his way, and the young upstart, not about to be pushed around by anyone: two sides to the same Janus-faced coin. Will decides to give Ben an opportunity, or perhaps just enough rope to hang himself. He asks Ben to sell off some of his fiery stallions at auction - impossible animals he has, as yet, been unable to unload. In short order, Ben proves his merit, using his charlatan ways to cajole even the most stubborn crowd of onlookers into seeing things his way. One by one the horses are sold for a profit. Impressed, Will decides to do things for Ben. Naturally, this does not sit well with Jody who watches from the sidelines as his already tenuous relationship with dear ole dad steadily disintegrates even further. It isn’t long before Ben and Jody become bitter rivals. At a dinner party, Will decides to pick a few scabs; first, Clara’s unrequited affections for neighboring plantation owner, Alan Stewart (Richard Anderson). Today, Will’s veiled insinuations about Alan being close to his overbearing mother, Elizabeth (Mabel Albertson) seem innocuous enough. But by the subliminal code of 1950’s sexual politics they spank of Alan using mama as his beard to shield his own homosexuality, a point nailed to the cross a few moments later when Alan stands up to Will, claiming he does his duty and Will swats back, “Not around here, you don’t!”

Oversexed and barely able to keep his hands to himself where his own wife is concerned, Jody finds Will’s indictment quite amusing: less so, when Will’s penetrating comments are directed at him. Will informs Jody, not only is Ben to become a regular fixture at their dinner table, but he will also be clerking at the Varner Mercantile General Store in the same capacity as Jody, and, with the same level of responsibilities and wages paid out. Jody is understandably alarmed. It is just one more indication Ben’s arrival in town is the beginning of the end to his own autonomy; Jody’s seemingly impenetrable expectation to inherit everything from his father, falling to pieces before his very eyes. On the veranda, a gaggle of sixteen and seventeen-year-old boys catcall after Eula. She adores the attention despite its obvious emasculating effect on her husband. Afterward, Ben and Will engage in a game of cards, leaving Clara and Alan to contemplate ‘the moon’ and other things on the front porch. It’s no good. Even Alan can see it. Their discussions are leaden and cerebral rather than kinetically charged with a spark of mutual attraction. 

After Alan’s departure, Ben makes his first definite play for Clara. Of course, it is shot down. But Clara’s standoffish nature does not fool Ben for a moment. Later, Will demands to know from Clara what Alan’s intensions are, pointing out Clara’s mother was eighteen when she married him. Furthermore, at twenty-three, Clara is on the fast track to becoming an old maid. If Alan will not propose, perhaps Ben Quick can fit into this marital equation without delay. Clara is appalled her father would ‘sell her’ in marriage to a man she did not desire simply to beget the Varner bloodline for the foreseeable future. The next morning, Jody lazily comes into work, startled to find Ben already behind the register.  Of privilege and promise comes little, as far as Ben is concerned. Without lifting a finger, Ben is already well on his way to usurping the heir apparent. To quell his own fears, Jody returns to the plantation for a little badinage with his wife. Only Eula has begun to realize she wants a real man, not a boy pretending at being one. Hence, when Jody tries his usual adolescent seduction tactics on Eula again, she coolly “wishes” he’d “find another form of recreation!”

Perhaps Clara has misjudged Ben. To prove once and for all there is nothing between them, she pays a call on her father’s General Store after hours. To Clara’s delight, Ben is more cordial than she anticipated. Before long, however, the two invoke their mutually adversarial relationship. “The world belongs to the meat eaters, Miss Clara,” Ben points out, “…if you have to take it raw – take it raw!” Their caustic exchanges culminate in a defiant slap and one thoroughly passionate kiss. Afterward, Clara is repulsed by her own acquiescence and calls out Ben as a ‘barn burner’. He withdraws and she flees into the night. But Will is nearby and now begins to hatch a plot for Ben to seduce and wed his daughter. To hasten the process, Will has Ben’s things brought into the plantation house. Jody is mortified to have, as Will puts it, “a brother” – competition, as far as Jody is concerned. Clara attempts to coddle Jody’s fears, reminding him of an incident when they were both in school where he defended her honor against a playground bully. What both Clara and Jody fail to acknowledge yet is that it takes more than ‘blood’ to make it in the outside world. It takes heart, guts and determination. While Clara may yet be her father’s daughter, Jody has suddenly begun to recognize Ben Quick is the son Will Varner never had, but always wanted. It is a bitter pill to take.

That evening, a shirtless and flirtatious Ben attempts to lure Clara from her bedroom, posed and primed on the second story veranda just beyond her open window. She pretends to ignore him, but secretly acknowledges he has aroused her desire. Sometime thereafter, at the county fair the men of Frenchman’s Bend enviously assess Ben’s swift ascendance into this most prominent family. At the box lunch auction, Ben engages Alan in a bidding war for Clara’s picnic basket chicken dinner. Instead of nickel and diming his way to the prize, Ben simply outbids Alan with an impossible wager of $50. Finding a picturesque spot to indulge in his spoils, Ben soon discovers Clara’s position has not softened one bit. He threatens her with Will’s arrangement. “You are going to wake up smiling in the morning,” he insists. She doubles down on her position, that sexual chemistry alone is not enough to build a relationship. Alan intervenes as Ben storms off. Only now Clara makes her demands of Alan. Does he love her? He does – just not in any lasting way to make for the ‘happily ever after’ she had hoped. Disillusioned and ashamed, Clara sets aside her school girl illusions. They have not served her well at all.

The last act of The Long Hot Summer deviates almost entirely from any of the Faulkner stories; producer, Jerry Wald’s predilection for solid box office, predicated on the proverbial ‘Hollywood happy ending’, blunting the drama, thus far, so expertly concocted. Jody threatens Ben at gunpoint. Astutely recognizing how unhinged he is, Ben leads Jody back to the old plantation house, regaling him with his discovery of loot stashed by the Confederates during the Civil War. As proof, Ben offers up a bag of coins. Seeing his way, at last, to stand on his own two feet, Jody blindly offers to buy the deed for the rundown house and grounds from Ben for a thousand dollars. Afterward, Jody forgets all about his plot to murder Ben. Instead, he sets to digging all night in search of more hidden treasure. Alas, Will arrives to put a damper of Jody’s euphoria. It seems the bag of money discovered by Jody was planted there by Ben. As proof, Will points to the minting date of 1910 – well after the Civil War. Near a nervous breakdown, Jody runs away. Meanwhile, Will believes Clara and Alan have entered into an engagement. He is quickly disillusioned of their wedded bliss by Alan who assures him there will not be a marriage – ever! Returning home, Will learns his favorite mare has only just given birth. However, as he enters the barn, the door is bolted behind him by Jody. Mad with jealousy, and determined to destroy Ben’s reputation once and for all, Jody now sets the barn afire. At the last possible moment, he sees to reason and rescues Will from surely burning to death. Incongruously recognizing this as an act of strength, Will declares he has regained his faith in Jody to inherit the family business.

Meanwhile, Ben and Clara reconcile on the plantation’s front porch. He regales her with his family’s history. His father was the only real firebug who professionally burned barns for insurance money, despite risk to life and limb. Clara is empathetic and comforting. “You could never tame me,” Ben admits, “But you taught me.” The townsfolk are not nearly as convinced Ben had nothing to do with the latest blaze. But now Will, in a moment of impassioned festiveness, pointedly lies to the mob, claiming he started the fire by accidentally dropping his lit cigar into one of the brittle haystacks.  The rabble, only seconds before, ready to lynch Ben Quick, now inexplicably take Will at face value. Nevertheless, Ben bids Will goodbye. They have come to a parting of the ways. “I get preached to on Sundays,” Will insists. “Yeah, but you don’t listen,” Ben reasons. “I’ll break you,” Will threatens. “You’ll miss me,” Ben astutely suggests. Clara is most amused. Ben has finally come around to the sort of man she would wholeheartedly marry. Relenting in her declaration of love, Ben agrees to stay, and Will, suddenly amused by this unlikely turn of events, declares to Minnie he loves life so much he just may go on living forever.

The Long, Hot Summer was a successful picture for 2oth Century-Fox. Despite the daily warring between Orson Welles and director, Martin Ritt, and Clinton, Louisiana’s inclement weather and stifling humidity, to cast a pall on the working conditions, it was another unimpeachable effort from producer, Jerry Wald – then, something of an unstoppable zeitgeist with his fingers effectively feeling the pulse of the average American movie ticket buyer to the tune of $2,853,700 on a $1,500,000 budget. Paul Newman, then a Warner Bros. contract player on loan to Fox, benefited the most, winning high praise and a Best Actor Award at the Cannes Film Festival. I will profess a bias here. I have never understood Joanne Woodward’s appeal. Next to her husband’s inferno of megawatt star power she all but vanishes, ever more the easily flustered shrinking violet with barely an undisturbed petal - the proverbial wallflower. Yes, Woodward can play pert. She can even exude a modicum of empathy of the prime Suzie Cream Cheese ilk, to translate into a sort of tenderness - a ‘type’ some males might wish to find as their potential mate. But her frigidity remains remote and goddess-like; cool and antiseptic at best. Not so much here for the male star gazer if you ask me. Woodward – stern and occasionally sassy, pins her motto in a place where no janitor would ever think to look, much less find them. Finally, The Long, Hot Summer did much to revitalize Martin Ritt’s sagging career after being branded a communist sympathizer during the McCarthy witch-hunts.  Viewed today, The Long, Hot Summer is an exemplar of that final flowering in studio-bound product; Joseph LaShelle’s uber-lush cinematography, capturing the moonlight and magnolia atmosphere of this family-owned backwater, thickly scented in raw and occasionally pungent animal lust.

A broad Blu-ray release of The Long, Hot Summer is long overdue. Thanks to Twilight Time’s ongoing alliance with Fox Home Video, the movie did find its way to home video nearly 4 years ago, and presently, is fetching big bucks as a rarity to be sold at a premium by third-party dealers on Amazon. It’s a quality affair in gorgeous 1080p with no untoward tinkering of the vintage DeLuxe color palette. I had feared – and with good reason – another teal-tinted disaster, or worse, slapdash mastering effort a la previous Fox fiascos like The Blue Max, The King and I, The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, Wild River, Desk Set, Garden of Evil, Demetrius and the Gladiators, The Best of Everything and Anastasia (1956). If someone at Fox is listening, then the aforementioned are overdue for a reissue, either in 1080p or (choke!) 4K with ample color remastering and, in a few instances, image stabilization. Fox has proven it can do good – nee, great – work when it commits the necessary funds to its catalog. The proof is in this Blu-ray release of The Long, Hot Summer. Not only is the DeLuxe palette simply sumptuous, but the image is razor-sharp, sporting excellent clarity, a modicum of film grain indigenous to its source and superior contrast. We get two audio options; ‘scope’s’ original 2-channel stereo and a remastered 5.1 DTS that accompanied the original Fox DVD release from some years ago. The 5.1’s only real selling feature is in bringing Alex North’s underscore to life; also, the title tune, sounding rich and enveloping. TT has afforded this release its usual isolated score, plus, the extras that came with the aforementioned DVD – a Fox MovieTone newsreel and episode of Hollywood: Backstory – in 22 minutes, detailing the making of the movie. Bottom line: this is a reference quality effort from Fox of a vintage Cinemascope release. We doff our caps here and champion Fox and Twilight Time for releasing it with gusto. However, with TT’s demise, The Long, Hot Summer on Blu-ray is again in danger of fading into the sunset of memory. This one belongs on everyone’s must have/must see/must own list. As we prepare to enter the half-way mark of summer, this movie is a potent reminder of the promise and full-bodied bloom of love under the baking sun.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

3