Movie Review: 'Summer of '42'
Summer of ’42 (1971)
Part One: An Overview of Summer of '42
Nothing from that first day I saw her, and no one that has happened to me since, has ever been as frightening and as confusing. For no person I've ever known has ever done more to make me feel more sure, more insecure, more important, and less significant.
In everyone's life, I often think, there is a Summer of '42 (or '52, or '62, and so on....), a time in which we discover the joys and sorrows of growing up...and falling in love. There are hijinks and pranks, jokes and playful insults...and always the bonds of friendship.
But sometimes, in those days of discovery and self-awareness, we feel the angst of that first attraction, the bittersweet highs and lows of falling seriously in love for the first time – sometimes with the right person, sometimes not. And of course, we feel the heartbreak of losing that cherished love...wondering what on Earth happened.
Based on an actual event in screenwriter Herman Raucher's life, Robert Mulligan's 1971 classic is one of those rare coming-of-age movies that stands heads and shoulders above those sex-obsessed, raunchy teen-oriented films (Private Lessons, Meatballs) that were released in later decades.
Based on an actual event in screenwriter Herman Raucher's life, Robert Mulligan's 1971 classic is one of those rare coming-of-age movies that stands heads and shoulders above those sex-obsessed, raunchy teen-oriented films (Private Lessons, Meatballs) that were released in later decades.
Starring Gary Grimes as Hermie, Jerry Hauser as Oscy, and Oliver Conant as Benjie and featuring the luminous Jennifer O'Neill as Dorothy, this lyrical, hysterically funny and heartbreakingly poignant film will elicit both laughter and tears from all but the most stone-hearted viewer.
Summer of '42's plot revolves around the Terrible Trio of Hermie, Oscy, and Benjie, who live on a small island off the East Coast of the United States. It's the summer after Pearl Harbor, and all the men of military age are going off to the various fronts to fight the Axis powers. One of these is Dorothy's husband, Pete.
For Hermie, this opens up a whole world of possibilities. For in between all the usual boyish things he's done with Oscy and Benjie -- raiding the Coast Guard station, teasing each other, and trying to find out everything there is to know about sex, he's also fallen deeply in love with Dorothy. He spends time at her house, making himself useful by bringing in the groceries or helping her fix things...the "How do you like your coffee?" scene is a gem, evoking all those memories of how far we young guys would go to impress that "special" girl:
Dorothy: Oh, you drink coffee, don't you?
Hermie: [trying to sound like an adult] ... I consume a couple of cups a day.
Dorothy: Well, I have milk.
Hermie: Oh, no. I take it black.
But before this movie fades to black to the strains of Michel Legrand's "The Summer Knows/Theme from Summer of '42," Hermie will learn that even heaven-sent (in this case, Pete's demise) opportunities come with a heavy price. Even though Hermie's fondest dream does come true (and the scenes of the preliminaries are among the funniest, particularly the purchase of a condom!), the results are somewhat sobering...and heartbreaking
Mulligan (To Kill a Mockingbird) and Raucher carefully balance the comedic and romantic elements so that one doesn't overwhelm the other. Grimes, Hauser, and Conant are very believable as the Terrible Trio; guys watching this film will probably look back on their teenage years and see shadows of their best friends – or themselves – in Hermie, Oscy, or even Benjie.
Of course, Jennifer O'Neill's participation in this film is what gives the film its emotional core, for what was going to be simply a movie about Herman Raucher's best friend Oscy (who was killed in Korea the same day Raucher turned 24) inevitably became entwined with Hermie's desperate love for Dorothy and the bittersweet consummation of that brief but life-changing relationship. O'Neill, whose subsequent career failed to live up to expectations after this film, plays Dorothy with warmth, charm, and grace, so in love with her soldier-husband that she can't see Hermie's in love with her. Her simplicity and openness are what draws Hermie (and most viewers) to her, and when tragedy strikes in the shape of that War Department telegram (WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR HUSBAND...), we know deep down why she turns to Hermie for solace and bittersweet love.
Part Two: Love, Laughter, and Tears
Oscy: Not even the BEST of friends go halfsies on a rubber.
I was 17 years old when I first saw Summer of '42; I had become aware of its existence when I saw a framed cover from the paperback edition of the novelization hanging on one of the walls of the English Department at South Miami that same year. It was late one summer night, one of those hot South Florida nights when the air conditioner keeps on running because it's warmer outside than the thermostat's 78-degree setting. I was having trouble sleeping...between dealing with my feelings of unrequited love for a girl named Mary Ann Pena and worrying about the upcoming stresses of my junior year, insomnia was more the rule rather than the exception.
That night I had already read from several books, so I wandered downstairs to where the main TV was, and still is, strategically placed in the kitchen/dining room area. I didn't know what was on that Saturday night; the TV Guide was out of reach in my mom's room and I didn't want to risk waking her up just to see what was playing at 11:30 p.m. I decided to turn the set on, adjust the volume so that it wouldn't wake my mother up, and flipped the channel to the CBS affiliate, WTVJ.
Just in time, too, for the Late Show promo was ending and the Warner Bros. logo was fading to a nostalgia-laced main title that identified the film as a Robert Mulligan film with a now-familiar name, Summer of '42.
Underscoring the credits was a piano-based theme by French film composer Michel Legrand, a simple yet haunting melody that seemed to foreshadow the wondrous-yet-bittersweet relationship between Hermie and Dorothy. And from that night in the Summer of '81 to this day, no other coming of age movie would be as funny and as tear inducing, nor would there be another that I identified with so closely.
Until I received the DVD version several years ago, I only saw Summer of '42 three more times after that first viewing. It was rerun twice on broadcast TV a few years later, and then my friend Betsy rented it at Blockbuster one day when she had invited my friend Richard and me for one of our regular Saturday afternoon get-togethers. Richard fell asleep sometime before Hermie's fateful visit to Dorothy's house on the Night of the Telegram, but Betsy and I watched it -- afterward she teased me about my unrequited crushes and gently chided me for misting up:
Betsy: You're not crying, are you?
Me: I'm not crying.
Betsy: Yeah, you are.
Me: [sniffling] Am not.
Betsy: Are too.
Me: Maybe a little.
I'm not sure if Betsy liked the film as much as I did; our tastes were pretty similar and if we had ever explored the possibility of becoming lovers, I'm sure we would have had very few disagreements as far as books and movies were concerned.
As for Richard, I finally got him to watch Summer of '42 in March of 2004 when we got together for my 41st birthday; he didn't fall asleep this time and he seemed to enjoy it, especially the more comedic scenes involving the Terrible Trio:
[The three boys are gawking at a medical journal about sex]
Oscy: Now listen! Before I saw these pictures, I didn't think it was possible, either. But these are pictures, Benjie, pictures! These aren't drawings! I've seen those drawings! These are pictures!
Richard, of course, loved the beautiful Jennifer O'Neill; I doubt any man who watches this movie can genuinely say that the luminous model-turned-actress doesn't evoke the memories of their own "first time" lovers, or feels Hermie's pain as he goes from fantasizing about having sex with Dorothy to actually doing it. Of course, the consummation scene is tastefully done; O'Neill undresses but never actually appears totally nude – the lovemaking is sweet and sad and mostly off-screen, a fine example of the adage "less is more."
Although I love this film – if I ever make a Top Ten list of my favorite movies from all categories, Summer of '42 would rank second or third – I don't watch it that much, especially when I'm feeling lonely or blue. Not only do I still mist up unabashedly whenever I see it (something that surprised my older sister, who first saw Summer of ’42 when we watched it for Christmas in '03), but it's a story that evokes my own first time, which came for me at a far later age than Hermie's, and under circumstances that are just as bittersweet as those in the film. With some great loves, I think, there are painful losses...whether it is for a teenager in the Summer of '42 or for a 36-year-old in the Winter of 2000.
Summer of '42's plot revolves around the Terrible Trio of Hermie, Oscy, and Benjie, who live on a small island off the East Coast of the United States. It's the summer after Pearl Harbor, and all the men of military age are going off to the various fronts to fight the Axis powers. One of these is Dorothy's husband, Pete.
For Hermie, this opens up a whole world of possibilities. For in between all the usual boyish things he's done with Oscy and Benjie -- raiding the Coast Guard station, teasing each other, and trying to find out everything there is to know about sex, he's also fallen deeply in love with Dorothy. He spends time at her house, making himself useful by bringing in the groceries or helping her fix things...the "How do you like your coffee?" scene is a gem, evoking all those memories of how far we young guys would go to impress that "special" girl:
Dorothy: Oh, you drink coffee, don't you?
Hermie: [trying to sound like an adult] ... I consume a couple of cups a day.
Dorothy: Well, I have milk.
Hermie: Oh, no. I take it black.
But before this movie fades to black to the strains of Michel Legrand's "The Summer Knows/Theme from Summer of '42," Hermie will learn that even heaven-sent (in this case, Pete's demise) opportunities come with a heavy price. Even though Hermie's fondest dream does come true (and the scenes of the preliminaries are among the funniest, particularly the purchase of a condom!), the results are somewhat sobering...and heartbreaking
Mulligan (To Kill a Mockingbird) and Raucher carefully balance the comedic and romantic elements so that one doesn't overwhelm the other. Grimes, Hauser, and Conant are very believable as the Terrible Trio; guys watching this film will probably look back on their teenage years and see shadows of their best friends – or themselves – in Hermie, Oscy, or even Benjie.
Of course, Jennifer O'Neill's participation in this film is what gives the film its emotional core, for what was going to be simply a movie about Herman Raucher's best friend Oscy (who was killed in Korea the same day Raucher turned 24) inevitably became entwined with Hermie's desperate love for Dorothy and the bittersweet consummation of that brief but life-changing relationship. O'Neill, whose subsequent career failed to live up to expectations after this film, plays Dorothy with warmth, charm, and grace, so in love with her soldier-husband that she can't see Hermie's in love with her. Her simplicity and openness are what draws Hermie (and most viewers) to her, and when tragedy strikes in the shape of that War Department telegram (WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR HUSBAND...), we know deep down why she turns to Hermie for solace and bittersweet love.
Part Two: Love, Laughter, and Tears
Oscy: Not even the BEST of friends go halfsies on a rubber.
I was 17 years old when I first saw Summer of '42; I had become aware of its existence when I saw a framed cover from the paperback edition of the novelization hanging on one of the walls of the English Department at South Miami that same year. It was late one summer night, one of those hot South Florida nights when the air conditioner keeps on running because it's warmer outside than the thermostat's 78-degree setting. I was having trouble sleeping...between dealing with my feelings of unrequited love for a girl named Mary Ann Pena and worrying about the upcoming stresses of my junior year, insomnia was more the rule rather than the exception.
That night I had already read from several books, so I wandered downstairs to where the main TV was, and still is, strategically placed in the kitchen/dining room area. I didn't know what was on that Saturday night; the TV Guide was out of reach in my mom's room and I didn't want to risk waking her up just to see what was playing at 11:30 p.m. I decided to turn the set on, adjust the volume so that it wouldn't wake my mother up, and flipped the channel to the CBS affiliate, WTVJ.
Just in time, too, for the Late Show promo was ending and the Warner Bros. logo was fading to a nostalgia-laced main title that identified the film as a Robert Mulligan film with a now-familiar name, Summer of '42.
Underscoring the credits was a piano-based theme by French film composer Michel Legrand, a simple yet haunting melody that seemed to foreshadow the wondrous-yet-bittersweet relationship between Hermie and Dorothy. And from that night in the Summer of '81 to this day, no other coming of age movie would be as funny and as tear inducing, nor would there be another that I identified with so closely.
Until I received the DVD version several years ago, I only saw Summer of '42 three more times after that first viewing. It was rerun twice on broadcast TV a few years later, and then my friend Betsy rented it at Blockbuster one day when she had invited my friend Richard and me for one of our regular Saturday afternoon get-togethers. Richard fell asleep sometime before Hermie's fateful visit to Dorothy's house on the Night of the Telegram, but Betsy and I watched it -- afterward she teased me about my unrequited crushes and gently chided me for misting up:
Betsy: You're not crying, are you?
Me: I'm not crying.
Betsy: Yeah, you are.
Me: [sniffling] Am not.
Betsy: Are too.
Me: Maybe a little.
I'm not sure if Betsy liked the film as much as I did; our tastes were pretty similar and if we had ever explored the possibility of becoming lovers, I'm sure we would have had very few disagreements as far as books and movies were concerned.
As for Richard, I finally got him to watch Summer of '42 in March of 2004 when we got together for my 41st birthday; he didn't fall asleep this time and he seemed to enjoy it, especially the more comedic scenes involving the Terrible Trio:
[The three boys are gawking at a medical journal about sex]
Oscy: Now listen! Before I saw these pictures, I didn't think it was possible, either. But these are pictures, Benjie, pictures! These aren't drawings! I've seen those drawings! These are pictures!
Richard, of course, loved the beautiful Jennifer O'Neill; I doubt any man who watches this movie can genuinely say that the luminous model-turned-actress doesn't evoke the memories of their own "first time" lovers, or feels Hermie's pain as he goes from fantasizing about having sex with Dorothy to actually doing it. Of course, the consummation scene is tastefully done; O'Neill undresses but never actually appears totally nude – the lovemaking is sweet and sad and mostly off-screen, a fine example of the adage "less is more."
Although I love this film – if I ever make a Top Ten list of my favorite movies from all categories, Summer of '42 would rank second or third – I don't watch it that much, especially when I'm feeling lonely or blue. Not only do I still mist up unabashedly whenever I see it (something that surprised my older sister, who first saw Summer of ’42 when we watched it for Christmas in '03), but it's a story that evokes my own first time, which came for me at a far later age than Hermie's, and under circumstances that are just as bittersweet as those in the film. With some great loves, I think, there are painful losses...whether it is for a teenager in the Summer of '42 or for a 36-year-old in the Winter of 2000.
© 2012 Alex Diaz-Granados. All Rights Reserved
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