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
Comments