El largo y cálido verano

The Long Hot Summer is chiefly noted for the fact that Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward made their joint cinematic debut in this film. One of Hollywood's best personal and professional partnerships, Joanne had won a Best Actress Oscar for The Three Faces of Eve the year before and it took Paul thirty more years to match it for their mantelpiece in The Color of Money.

Based on some William Faulkner short stories, The Long Hot Summer commences when Joanne Woodward and Lee Remick, daughter and daughter-in-law of local patriarch Orson Welles give drifter Paul Newman a lift into town. Woodward's a repressed school teacher and Welles despairs of her finding a suitable match.

Because he started dirt poor and worked his way up to the top, Welles takes a liking to Newman and pushes, a little too hard for Newman and Woodward to team up. That's not sitting real well with Anthony Franciosa who is Welles's son and sees Newman displacing him in the family pecking order.

In fact my favorite in the film is Franciosa, he usually is in any film he's in. When he's on the screen, you don't pay attention to anyone else, not even Orson Welles.

Welles borrows a bit from Tennessee Williams's Big Daddy Pollitt from the Paul Newman film the year before, Cat On a Hot Tin Roof. His Will Varner though is a bit softer around the edges, also lends itself more easily to caricature. I think the creators of The Dukes of Hazzard used Welles in The Long Hot Summer as their model for Boss Hogg.

In fact it's interesting to see the contrast in The Long Hot Summer and Cat On a Hot Tin Roof. It's obvious to me that William Faulkner liked the people of Mississippi a whole lot more than the southerners that are in Tennessee Williams's work.

Almost fifty years later, The Long Hot Summer is still enjoyable viewing and still may be the best of Paul and Joanne's joint ventures.

The Long, Hot Summer – Big Footprint Not to be mistaken for Wet Hot American Summer (a markedly different romp…), The Long, Hot Summer seems to be a largely forgotten entry into the canon of sweltering 1950s melodramas, mostly historically noteworthy as the project which united Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, and generally overshadowed by higher profile ballads of illicit love and family angst in the deep south. However, rather than being clouded by a haze of 'Big Daddy's odour of mendacity,' Martin Ritt's film easily has enough merit to stand on its own accord, blending a collection of William Faulkner shorts into a tale of love, lust, and lineage, just clamoring for the qualifier 'steamy'.

Although the plot is definitely familiar territory, and the script errs fairly strongly on the affected style customary to the post-Actors Studio era, the story resonates truthfully and remains engaging throughout, while the alluring undercurrent of barely-bridled sexuality keeps the proceedings energetic and urgent. Ritt's direction is taut but unfussy, allowing the inherent claustrophobia and tension of the film's small-town setting to speak for itself, and the sumptuous Technicolor cinematography is so crisp you can practically smell the marsh and sweat from the Mississippi bayou (and I'm not even just talking about Orson Welles). Although the climax feels like a somewhat forced attempt to escalate the stakes simmering throughout, with an overly hasty resolution to boot, the buildup is calm and confident enough to make the viewing experience worth its while without having to fight to engage its audience.

Naturally, like the majority of its contemporaries, the story ultimately exists as a vehicle to foreground the performances of the cast, who are what ultimately make the film worthwhile. Paul Newman, cementing his iconic identity as the shrewd, laconic, effortlessly cool drifter, crackles with charisma as accused arsonist Ben Quick, magnetic throughout even before his surprisingly racy shirtless scene. Joanne Woodward gives arguably the film's strongest performance as the controversially unmarried Clara Varner, practically vibrating in place from a lifetime of feeling discounted and under-appreciated. Rather than playing up her predicament, however, Woodward embodies Clara with a steely confidence, which is altogether more effective and appealing. In contrast, Orson Welles delivers the film's most legendarily outlandish performance as the resident belligerent patriarch. Notoriously mocking the Actors' Studio by mumbling almost incomprehensibly through his cartoonish southern drawl, the vociferous Welles is skilled enough to steal scenes in his sleep (which he may well have been during certain scenes), outrageously fun when hamming it up, with occasional pockets of surprising solemnity and depth, as if coming up for air from his customary grunting and snorting. Anthony Franciosa is also a sturdy presence, even if he does occasionally overindulge in Method hand-wringing and hysteria, while a cameo from the delightful Angela Lansbury as Welles' cheerily aggressive suitor adds a dash of comedic perfection.

While it may fall short of the acerbic intensity of similar fare such as Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Long, Hot Summer still serves a healthy slice of all the smouldering, robustly acted 1950s melodrama you could ask for. If only for the incandescent interplay between Newman and Woodward, with the added pleasure of cartoon-character Welles, the film is easily worth sinking into, on a dozy, hot summer evening or otherwise.

-7/10

This is one of the great guilty pleasure movies. Orson Welles, Paul Newman, and Joanne Woodward are all wonderful, and the supporting cast is just fine. The plot is delightfully incoherent, and everyone gets a chance to chew on the scenery. As a big fan of Faulkner, I find the way the screenwriters have jumbled together characters, themes and episodes from various books especially entertaining (although the sensibilities of the characters are more Tennessee Williams, or Tennessee Tuxedo even, than Faulkner, which just adds to the pleasure).

The producer was Jerry Wald, and this has the look and feel that is (at least to me) characteristic of his movies.

It was the time when they called him a young new star and it was his breakthrough to stardom, fame, and success. The moment Paul Newman's Ben Quick, rebellious and irresistible drifter enters a rural Mississippi town of Frenchman's Bend to stir up its women, puzzle its men and to catch the interest of Big Daddy Varner (Orson Welles, the ferocious force of nature seemed to have fun playing Will Varner and experimenting with make-up) the town richest and most powerful redneck who perhaps sees in Ben a lot of himself, the screen legend was born.

"The Long, Hot Summer" (1958) is based on five short stories and a novel by one of the America's greatest novelists and storytellers, the expert of Southern life, William Faulkner, and the film is a steamy, moving, often funny (perhaps, unintentionally) tale of lust, greed, jealousy, and larger than life personalities and their clashes. I guess I need to read more Faulkner's stories because I was surprised to see the film that is based on the works of the writer known for his heavy use of such sophisticated literary techniques as symbolism, allegory, and especially stream of consciousness, the film which linear narrative is easy to follow from the third person point-of-view.

Besides Paul Newman who was as talented as he was hot, his off- screen wife-to-be Joanna Woodward shines as Clara Varner, Will's intelligent, thinking daughter, the teacher in a local school whom her father wants to see married (and not just wants but takes certain steps that Clara does not like and feels offended by). The film was the first of many Newman's and Woodward's collaboration and it is not easy to recall the greater chemistry between two leads. Orson Welles dominates the screen in his every scene as expected. 21-years-old Lee Remick (Eula, Varner's daughter-in-law, sexy and innocent woman-child), Anthony Franciosa (Jody, Varner's overlooked and jealous son), and Angela Lansbury (Minnie, the woman who has her own plans about future that include a widower Varner in them) all add to the sizzling fun that "The Long Hot Summer" is.

I saw this film again last night at an old-time movie palace, in an audience of about 2,000 people. The film, which I had seen before, was even more enjoyable then the previous times I had seen it on TV. For one thing, it has some very lovely and well executed uses of the CinemaScope frame. It shows both the dry openness of the landscape, as well as the lush extravagance of the plantation estate which belongs to Orson Welles' character. I'm not too familiar with Faulkner's stories, but the plot elements of this film flow together rather nicely, and there isn't really a dull moment in the whole picture. The only part which is still difficult for me to take, is the resolution of the conflict between Welles' and Franciosa's characters. That scene builds up to something in a matter of minutes, and then suddenly it's over. I could hear disappointment in some audience members in the theater as well, including one person who shouted "What the heck was that about?". This aside, it's still a worthwhile film to see, and the acting of Newman, Woodward, and Welles are standouts. There are also plenty of (probably unintentional) laughs to be had as well. One of the better soap opera-type films to come out of the late 1950s.