Summer and Smoke Blu-ray Review
Oil and water.
Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman, July 22, 2013
Tennessee Williams' work often featured depictions of erstwhile Southern Belles, women sometimes past their prime or
at least at the precipice of that long, downward slope into inevitable increpitude. More often than not these women
were fragile in some way, sometimes physically, but more frequently emotionally, characters bending to the implacable
call of their emotions and usually coming out much worse for having answered that call. Williams' reputation was built
on the two cornerstones of
The Glass Menagerie and
A Streetcar Named Desire, but the playwright actually had a number of
lesser known pieces that opened and closed relatively quickly on Broadway, some rarely if ever to be heard from again
(even some ardent Williams aficionados have never heard of
You Touched Me, Williams' second Broadway outing
and, believe it or not, a romantic comedy of sorts). While
A Streetcar Named Desire was still running on The
Great White Way,
Summer and Smoke opened in October 1948 and eked out a three month run before
shuttering. Williams himself was never really pleased with the play, and reworked it over the course of his career. The
fifties turned out to be a fairly mixed bag for the writer, with only
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof really exploding into
prominence in the same way that Williams' two best known plays had (other lesser pieces like
The Rose Tattoo,
Camino Real and
Orpheus Descending certainly had their adherents, but from a popular acclaim
perspective, they were all decidedly lackluster). Williams actually had one of his greater critical successes in 1952
off Broadway with a revival of
Summer and Smoke, starring none other than Geraldine Page, in a
performance and production that were the talk of New York. Back on Broadway in 1959, however, Williams experienced
one of his more lasting
successes when
Sweet Bird of Youth opened on Broadway, featuring acclaimed performances by leads
Geraldine Page and Paul Newman. Page, herself a woman of a certain fragility and of a southern background, seemed
perfectly suited to be the "new" Williams prototype, and she in fact remains rather strongly associated with the
playwright in spite of only having appeared in relatively few of his works. Page already had a formidable screen
reputation as
well, and when
Summer and Smoke finally made it to the screen more than a decade after its Broadway bow,
and with its off-Broadway mounting still an object of some considerable critical respect,
she seemed like the perfect choice to play yet another variation on one of Williams' favorite themes, a semi-neurotic
southern woman wrestling with her own tamped down passions.
It's no secret that we all bring our own life experiences to anything we view, and our reactions are based upon those
experiences. So before we delve further into
Summer and Smoke, I'd like to ask for your indulgence as I relay a
little anecdote about myself and this
film's iconic star, Geraldine Page. In one of the most embarrassing episodes from my childhood, one of my two uncles,
both of whom
ran a large Manhattan real estate business and who catered to some rather famous people, either renting to them or
finding them
homes to buy, decided to "impress" me early one Saturday morning by picking a famous client name out of his Rolodex
and
calling it. He told me he was phoning the Rip Torn family, a name I frankly didn't even believe was real (hey, I was a kid
from the
sticks). Nevertheless, I was mortified watching my uncle call these poor people, waking them out of what must have
been a sound
sleep.
After getting them awake enough to recognize who
he was, he thrust the phone at me. Somewhere along the
line, Rip must have thought better of this exercise and thrust
his phone off on his wife, Geraldine Page, who
seemed somewhat perplexed but gracious as she spoke to me for a few minutes. Geraldine Page I had actually heard
of, as my English teacher had seen her on Broadway in
Sweet Bird of Youth and had spent a whole day in class
raving about Ms. Page's performance. I told her that anecdote, and she seemed genuinely touched by it, though I'm
certain she was aware I was struggling to make conversation with her. It was one of the most horrifying experiences
of my childhood, and every time I have seen either Rip Torn or Geraldine Page on screen since then, I have been
immediately transported back to those awful few minutes. And so with tongue only slightly in cheek I must confess to
struggling with a bit of post traumatic stress as I attempt to deal with
Summer and Smoke.
Though its time frame is just a bit later, in some ways
Summer and Smoke plays almost like the flip side of
Meet Me In St. Louis, a darker
take on that old "boy next door" scenario. While
the two would be lovers do in fact live next door to each other, and in Peter Glenville's opened up filming, we're greeted
by an early twentieth century bric-a-brac production design reminiscent of the Vincente Minnelli musical, the two
properties are of
course distinctly different. The two main characters in
Summer and Smoke are in fact probably better typified by
another duo, namely oil and water. Geraldine Page's Alma Winemiller is the uptight, spiritually obsessed daughter of a
minister, while Laurence Harvey's John Buchanan is the very definition of a cad and roué, a womanizing lothario who
nonetheless seems to let his wandering eye drift toward Alma, if only fleetingly.
As with many other Williams pieces, Alma's incipient prudishness only fitfully masks the teeming passions roiling through
her being. That seems to entice John, but Alma isn't about to surrender herself without getting something in return—
namely, saving John's soul, something he is not especially prone to pursue. Instead, he chases after the firebrand
Latina Rosa (Rita Moreno, who beat out
Summer and Smoke's Una Merkel for that year's Best Supporting
Actress Academy Award for her iconic turn in
West Side Story). Later he gets involved with a more dewy eyed lass played by Pamela Tiffin,
while Alma looks on through bitter tears. Alma herself is dealing with her martinet father (Malcolm Atterbury) and her
mentally unbalanced mother (Una Merkel), yet another variation on a theme Williams often employed.
There's little denying that
Summer and Smoke is minor Williams, especially when thrust up against his more
titanic achievements, but this is not to say that the piece is unworthy of appreciation. It has a claustrophobic, fetid
atmosphere which is virtually palpable, and it gives an eclectic cast ample opportunity to shine, albeit within a relatively
narrow emotional corridor.