The Swimmer (Frank Perry, 1968). Burt Lancaster swims across the suburbs in the adaptation of John Cheever’s story. I saw it at a tender age and it left an impression – maybe more as an idea than as a movie. The thing sure has a lot of late-60s mannerisms and even more fruity Marvin Hamlisch music. Lancaster seems to decay as the story goes along, a somewhat more convincing arc than anything in the screenplay.
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