泳ぐひと

"Ned" (Burt Lancaster) has been away for a while so his neighbours are a bit surprised to see him, clad only in his trunks, swimming in their pool. After some chat with them, he discovers that barring the odd bit of terrain to cross, he can pretty much swim his way home through the pools of other neighbours/friends/acquaintances - a river and even a public lido... The film now follows him as this rather unique journey introduces us to his community, and to his own interesting, complicated and lively backstory. I could run to all sorts of amateur psychology about my understanding of what each stop means to him; to those with whom he stops, and to those of us watching - for the adaptation of the pretty depressing Cheever short story would certainly indulge that; but I felt this was more of a testament to an always slightly under-rated actor in Lancaster. He starred in some superb films over his career, and this - with him almost entirely en cueros, with his soul likewise just as scantily attired, allows us to gradually understand where his character has been, and to guess, maybe, where he might be going. Kim Hunter maybe stands out amongst the supporting cast, but I'm not sure that any of them outdo the other - they all fulfil their function adequately offering us a myriad of possibilities for his current and past behaviour. The ending is especially poignant and as an ingenious and imaginative piece of cinema, this takes some beating.

**_Offbeat parable of self-discovery on the collapse of the “American dream”_** A somewhat confused man in swimming trunks (Burt Lancaster) travels from pool to pool in suburban Connecticut on his way home. Some of the people he comes across are played by Janet Landgard, Janice Rule, Joan Rivers and Diana Muldaur, amongst several others. "The Swimmer" (1968) is a semi-surreal commentary on mid-60’s America and the emptiness of materialism, as well as self-destruction. The fact that Ned Merrill (Lancaster) is almost naked throughout the film tells all. But the revelations are lowkey; you have to put the pieces together. I liked the insights on the folly of compulsiveness, whether social, youth-obsession, sexual or self-delusion. It’s an immersion into a struggling man’s soul. The allegory offers additional insights about the people we cross paths with in life. Friends might, more accurately, be casual acquaintances. Those whom you least suspect might be your biggest fans, at least in their memories. How did you treat others when you were on top? Who’s there for you when you’re no longer on top? It runs 1 hour, 35 minutes, and was shot entirely in southwest Connecticut (Weston, Wilton, Westport, Stamford and Fairfield). GRADE: B

Burt Lancaster referred to this film as ""**'Death of a Salesman'** in swimming trunks,"" and that's not a bad characterization. You could also think of it, in many ways, as ""**'American Beauty'** in the late 1960s."" This movie came out nine years after the original **'Twilight Zone'** series aired, and it would have made an interesting episode. As a movie, it lasts a little too long, is fairly melodramatic, and has some weirdly filmed scenes. Were they going for psychedelia? One scene in particular, where Lancaster simply crosses a busy highway, is just crazy with canted camera angles and weird zoom and blur shots. But one could argue that it helps build the dreamlike (or nightmare) quality upon which this story depends. I am beginning to suspect that Burt Lancaster created the acting style most often attributed to William Shatner. That is to say, he's vain and overblown, he dramatically stares off into space a lot, and his disregard for personal space with women quickly becomes a little creepy. *No means no, Burt Lancaster!* Maybe a lot of male actors were like this in the 1960s, I don't know, but it's a little odd from a 2026 perspective. As weird and as dated as this movie is, it's a fun enough watch for a sleepy summer's afternoon -- if only to see Joan Rivers' first dramatic role, and a brief scene with a young Diana Muldaur (Doctor Pulaski on **'Star Trek: The Next Generation'**).