Director: David Lean
Country: United Kingdom
Year: 1955

I think people remember pictures not dialogue. That’s why I like pictures.

I wouldn’t take the advice of a lot of so-called critics on how to shoot a close-up of a teapot.

When the great actor says the line, you can put scissors precisely at the point A and it’s wonderful. When the star says the line, you can hold for four frames longer because something else happens.

All Quotes: David Lean

BACKGROUND

David Lean was born in 1908, in Croydon, Surrey (now considered part of Greater London). His parents were Quakers, which meant that – Irony Alert – he was not allowed to attend movies as a child.

In 1927, he began working in a movie studio as the guy who says, “Scene 12, Take 3!” and claps that clapperboard thing. He also served tea and did other odd jobs, but by 1930, he was working as a newsreel editor. From there, it was a quick jump to editing feature films, including Pygmalion, which we watched a few weeks back. By 1942, he had edited over two dozen films for other directors, and it was about time to take his place in the director’s chair.

Lean began his directing career by collaborating with witty, alcoholic, and very gay Noël Coward on four films (including Brief Encounter, which we watched waaaay back in February). After the “Coward Period” came the “Dickens Period,” with two peerless Dickens adaptations: Great Expectations and Oliver Twist (the latter’s reputation has suffered somewhat due to Alec Guiness’ portrayal of Fagin as a grasping, filthy, hook-nosed Jew).

After the “Dickens Period” came the “Transition Period” in which Lean directed The Passionate Friends, Madeleine, and Breaking the Sound Barrier, three films which don’t seem to fit in his oeuvre. Let us never speak of them again. Actually, Sound Barrier, Lean’s only foray into (sorta) sci-fi, was apparently a big hit when released, though it is rarely seen today.

He quickly rebounded with the “Light Comedies Based on Stage Plays” period, during which he directed Hobson’s Choice and today’s film, Summertime.

Of course, most of us know David Lean because of his next, and final, stretch of films, which I shall refer to as the “Bloated Epics Period.” During the years from 1957 to 1984, Lean only directed five more films: The Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, Ryan’s Daughter, and A Passage to India.

Several other films were planned, but never made, or at least not by Lean:

A two-part film about the Bounty mutiny was eventually abandoned over lack of financial backing. The script was condensed and made into 1984’s The Bounty, starring Mel Gibson and directed by Roger Donaldson. Yes, the same Roger Donaldson who directed Cadillac Man with Robin Williams. Egads.

Lean originally owned the rights to direct Empire of the Sun, but, in poor health, he passed the project on to Steven Spielberg.

In the years preceding his death, David Lean was in pre-production on a film adaptation of Joseph Conrad’s Nostromo. The cast included Marlon Brando, Peter O’Toole, Anthony Quinn, Isabella Rossellini, and Dennis Quaid. Steven Spielberg was set to produce (originally; he later backed out). Before any film was shot, however, David Lean died of throat cancer. The film was eventually made as a mini-series for the BBC.

Lean was known as a sometimes-dictatorial perfectionist on set, but also as the creator of some of the 20th century’s most indelible cinematic images. Actors often didn’t like him, but he was revered by other directors (like Spielberg and Scorsese).

Last fun facts about David Lean: He married his first cousin, and later married the ex-wife of another first cousin.

I can’t tell you much about Katharine Hepburn except that she generally refused to sign autographs, and that unfortunate fans who dared to visit her home were generally told to “get the hell off my porch!”

In 1938, exhibitors deemed her “box office poison.” In 1999, the American Film Institute ranked Hepburn as the greatest female star in the history of American cinema.

She knew how to wear a pair of slacks, I’ll give her that.

SYNOPSIS

An opening title montage of Matisse-inspired painted images tells us that spinsterish Jane Hudson (Katharine Hepburn) has traveled from the U.S. to Europe.

When the action opens, she’s on a train, asking a fellow passenger to hold up a brochure labeled “Venice” so that she can shoot an establishing shot with her handheld movie camera. She’s kind of irritating, in a pushy, clueless American tourist way.

Oh, also on the brochure it says, “Romance” which I’ll bet is significant.

“I hope you enjoy [Venice],” says the brochure-holding man.

“Oh, I’ve got to!” exclaims Jane. “I’ve come such a long way!”

Then we are at the station, and our heroine is chasing after her luggage, pushing through the bustling crowd… and suddenly we are in Venice!

Aboard a waterborne “bus” she meets a horrible American couple, the McIlhenny’s. They are in the middle of a lengthy round-the-world trip, but this is Jane’s first time outside of her home town of Akron, Ohio. The bus passes all of the usual Venice landmarks that we’ve seen in countless films, but this is long before Don’t Look Now or Wings of the Dove, so Jane is agog, vainly trying to capture it all with her little movie camera. Silly American.

Jane makes her way to the Pensione Fiorini, with its beautiful proprietress, grand sitting room, and musical housemaid. On the patio lounges Darren “Kolchak” McGavin as some sort of groovy artist, adorned by a sexy blonde wife.

From her room, Jane can look across the lagoon and marvel at the church towers.

From her conversations with Signora Fiorini (the beautiful proprietress), we gather that Jane has led a sheltered life in Akron, and that she is hoping to find… something in Venice. Hoping for a miracle, hoping to embrace the adventure, expand her cultural horizons, or perhaps just enjoy a roll in the hay with an antiques dealer. Who knows? Anything seems possible in Venice!

Later, Signora Fiorini counsels Jane not to live so carefully: “Those miracles, they can happen sometimes. But you must give them a little push.”

Jane ruminates on this sage advice for a bit, and then goes out exploring. After being accosted by a nine-year-old con artist with a Chico Marx accent…

…she follows the sound of church bells to the Piazza San Marco. An American tourist nearby, dazzled by the statues and the architecture, exclaims, “Don’t change a thing! Not one thing!”

Sitting at a café, Jane films the people, the buildings, the birds. She is observed by a suave, Continental-looking middle-aged guy in a nicely-tailored suit.

He seems particularly focused on her ankles, which, now that you mention it, are actually pretty attractive.

Flustered by the palpable sexual tension, Jane flees.

On following days, Jane explores, often accompanied by the nine-year-old Chico Marx, with whom she shares her American cigarettes.

She inquires about a red goblet in an antique store…

…and is flustered all over again when the owner of the store turns out to be (wait for it…) Sexy Continental Guy! The ankle fetishist from the Piazza! Her realization of this is accompanied by the swelling of violins and the swirling of harps, so we can be fairly confident that they will eventually do the deed. And when I say, “do the deed,” I mean, “have sexual intercourse.”

After a tutorial in haggling technique and some awkward, abortive flirtation, Jane leaves with the goblet. Several lonely days later, Sexy Continental Guy again finds Jane at the café. But she pretends to be with someone else, and he excuses himself politely. For God’s sake, woman, do you want to get busy in Venice or not? We’re already 45 minutes in, and you haven’t even gone on a date!

A second visit to the antique shop (and another opportunity to hook up with Mr. Continental) ends in disaster, when Spinster Jane falls in the canal.

Finally, Mr. Continental tracks down Jane at the Pensione and puts it to her straight: “We talk about goblets, about Venice, but we are not really talking about Venice, are we?” Huffy Spinster Jane isn’t buying any: “I’m not sure what your experience is with American tourists, but…”

Just as Jane appears to be coming around to the Italian way of thinking, the McIlhennys burst in with some glass they just bought down at the corner glass store… which happens to be identical to the “antique” glass that Jane bought from loverboy! After a brief hissy fit, she agrees to have coffee with the Duke of Love. “We have coffee,” he says in that silky, seductive voice of his. “It is not very much, to have coffee with me, is it? What happens after that… happens… or does not happen.”

Indeed.

In the Piazza, illuminated by moonlight, they drink coffee and listen to a symphonic concert.

“To many pleasant surprises,” he toasts, and buys her a corsage. She chooses a gardenia, which is meaningful because of a long story she tells. I won’t bore you with it here, but just, you know, take note of this, because it’s important: GARDENIA. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggests, and they do. These Venetian men, they are smooth!

“Say my name,” he demands roughly, and when she does, he kisses her! “I love you!” she hisses, and runs away. “Tomorrow!” she calls, and disappears in the dark.

The next day, in preparation for her date, Jane gets her nails done and buys some sassy red shoes. In the Piazza, at the appointed hour, she waits and waits, but Mr. Continental is late. His young assistant comes bearing this message, and in the ensuing conversation, everything changes. Sexy Continental Guy – according to the young messenger boy – is a married man! The horror! Upon receipt of this shocking news, Spinster Jane beats a hasty retreat.

And Jane’s not the only one in romantic distress; the artist’s girlfriend (wife?) is drowning her sorrows in a bar, and Signora Fiorini is breaking things off with her kinda-boyfriend, or else negotiating with a john (it was a bit confusing). The world is a sad and tawdry place, it seems. Or maybe just Venice.

Mr. Continental eventually shows up to explain himself to Jane. “You Americans get so disturbed about sex!” he exclaims in frustration. “You are like a hungry child who is given ravioli. ‘No!’ he says. ‘I want beefsteak!’ My dear, you are hungry. Eat the ravioli!”

Inexplicably, this reasoning convinces Jane, and they make out. Spinster Jane is still huffy, but slowly she surrenders to Mr. Continental’s urbane manliness. In bars, restaurants, and piazzas across Venice, they dance, drink, and smooch the night away. Fireworks burst in the Venetian sky as Jane and Mr. Continental get their freak on in her pensione room.

Intoxicating days of romance follow, as Spinster Jane and Mr. Continental take boat rides, share hotel rooms, admire the flocks of pigeons in the Piazza, and stare into each other’s limpid eyes.

Everything seems perfect until Jane makes an unexpected announcement: “I’m leaving. My train leaves in two hours.” Why? “Because it’s wrong, and because you and I will end in nothing.”

True to her word, Jane tearfully boards the train. Mr. Continental shows up at the last minute and tries valiantly to catch up with the train, but it is too late. Defeated, he holds up a single gardenia. See? I told you that was important. Jane throws him a kiss as the train speeds away, presumably toward Akron, Ohio.

WHAT I LIKED

I’ve never been a huge fan of Katharine Hepburn; a little too mannered for me. And for the first half-hour or so of Summertime, I saw nothing to change my mind. I have to admit, though, by the halfway mark, I kinda fell in love with her.

Her frustrated attempts to make friends, her awkwardness, the flashes of anger masking her carnal desire, the despair and terror that flashed across her face when nobody was watching, were all perfectly rendered. In this case, her awkward uptightness worked perfectly for the character.

The cinematography of Venice was beautiful and painterly, complete Technicolor bliss.

I also liked Isa Miranda as the beautiful proprietress of the Pensione Fiorini, and wished that she had been given more to do. Her brief appearances hinted at a depth of character that we never got a chance to see.

WHAT I DIDN’T LIKE SO MUCH

This was perhaps the most trite and simply uninteresting film of the series for me. Certainly it was professionally made, and there were performances and scenery to enjoy, but the plot was strictly by-the-numbers “repressed American woman experiences sexual awakening with smooth Continental lover, and becomes self-actualized, to boot” malarkey.

I consider myself a David Lean fan, but Summertime has none of the charm, chewy character actors, and dazzling technique of his early films, nor the spectacle, sweep and political complexity of his later films.

SHOULD YOU SEE IT?

See it if you’re a Katharine Hepburn fan or a David Lean completist; if you are endlessly fascinated by the canals and architecture of Venice; or if you have a hankering for old-school Hollywood “doomed romance abroad” baloney.

Otherwise, watch any other David Lean film, or one of Katharine Hepburn’s earlier comedies, like The Philadelphia Story or Adam’s Rib. Okay, The African Queen is pretty great, as well, but it’s still not available on R1 DVD.

Next: The Third Man