I’d always wanted to see The Swimmer (1968) on the basis of its rather unique story: a man decides to swim home through all the suburban pools in his neighbourhood. Based on a short story by John Cheever, Burt Lancaster gives a brilliant, captivating performance as the strapping man brimming with confidence in only his swimsuit who envisions this as “an adventure”. Yet as the film progresses, the cracks begin to show and the backstory is drawn out as the swimmer becomes a symbol of failure, fear and sadness within the post war era of All-American soulless white upper class prosperity (very much an influence on something like Mad Men). A mix of classical drama and arty flourishes is the result, directed by Frank Perry (with uncredited direction by Sydney Pollack). Quite a sad movie in the end, well worth seeing.
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