How many falsely accused by the MeToo movement is too many? Or does that even matter?

 

With every setback of a “MeToo” accusation, we get the impression that rather than admit that some accusers lie or exaggerate out of vindictiveness or greed, comfortable in the assumption that what is claimed will be believed, the supporters of the “movement” always seem to double and triple-down. Accusers “never” lie: the accused “win” because of social media support and derision of the accuser. It doesn’t matter if the evidence points to innocence, or to the guilt of the accuser. Those audios in the Depp-Heard case that turned the opinions of most were simply not “heard” by those who did not want to hear the truth, let alone see it.

There is a saying that one man falsely convicted on death row is one too many; how many falsely accused by the MeToo movement is too many? What does it matter? The accusation alone is “guilt” enough, and unless the accuser actually comes out and says they lied, it doesn’t matter it the accused is judged innocent in a court of law—they still must be “guilty” to those with a personal and political agenda, usually one motivated by a narcissistic desire for "revenge" against society.

In the Los Angeles Times, Mary McNamara informs us that just because actor Kevin Spacey was acquitted of all nine charges of sexual abuse against four male accusers, doesn’t mean he should be “uncancelled.” 30 men have claimed he “abused” them in some way, she says, and even if Spacey has not been found guilty in any of the cases brought against him, the outstanding claims (and claims is all they are at this point) against him have not been “unproven,” so he is still technically “guilty.”

To recap: In October 2017, an actor named Anthony Rapp claimed that Spacey had, while intoxicated, had “groped” him at a party. Spacey later claimed that his initial response to this allegation which angered some people—that he was the “victim,” that he used intoxication as a “defense,” and suggested that he was being attacked because he was gay—was the idea of his publicist, and insisted it wasn’t his intent to belittle the accuser.

This started an avalanche of similar accusations against Spacey in both the U.S. and the UK. These accusations included members of the crew of the Netflix series House of Cards, which was in its sixth and final season; Spacey was fired with five episodes left to film, and the Netfix series on Gore Vidal starring Spacey was suspended; he was also cut from his role as J. Paul Getty in the film All the Money in the World. Spacey had by then been “outed” as gay, and thus given the fact that this case involved multiple angles of embarrassment for Netflix this was the kind of knee-jerk, rush to judgment that we would expect to see. After all, the “evidence” was “overwhelming.” Or was it the bad "PR"?

The production company MRC filed a multi-million dollar claim against Spacey and his production company for violating its sexual harassment policy (all the alleged victims were male), and Spacey and his company were forced to pay $31 million after arbitration, which of course did not require an examination of the evidence, but the effect of the accusations on business; Spacey subsequently lost  his appeal of the judgment. 

But one must note that Netflix acted not only before any of these accusations had been adjudicated in a court of law, either criminal or civil, but for the self-serving reason for its own “protection.” Spacey, however, didn’t make things any easier for himself by releasing a YouTube video in which he denied the accusations, which some people found “creepy.”

What happened after that? Every civil and criminal case brought against Spacey was either dismissed or found in Spacey’s favor; not in one single case brought to court was the accusers’ case found to be truthful or backed by evidence. Heather Unruh’s claimed that Spacey had groped her son in a car, who himself claimed he was texting his girlfriend while this happening. 

When Spacey’s attorneys demanded the phone and the texts as evidence, Unruh admitted that she had given the phone to police after deleting the text messages. The criminal case was dismissed when the alleged victim then refused to testify, and his subsequent civil claim of emotional damage was also “voluntarily” dismissed for the same reason.

In 2020 Rapp and another alleged victim filed a civil case against Spacey. The latter case was dismissed when the anonymous accuser refused to cooperate with prosecutors, and during the trial that followed, Rapp was found to have lied about (among other things) where the alleged abuse incident occurred, and a jury found in favor of Spacey.

In the UK trial that just ended, of the four accusers, three were proven to be motivated by financial considerations, and the claims made by a fourth were deemed unreliable because he was in an intoxicated state (the others were also accused of such) at the time. Elton John came forward to testify that Spacey was not at a gala party where one of the accusers (a chauffeur) claimed that he and Spacey were driving to when the alleged abuse incident occurred; Spacey provided evidence that he was not even in the UK at the time of that alleged incident. Jack Lemon’s son would testify to Spacey’s supposedly blameless character.

Spacey testified on his own behalf: "There was a rush to judgment and before the first question was asked or answered, I lost my job, I lost my reputation, I lost everything in a matter of days." He went on to claim that his “friendly” behavior was “misinterpreted” and it was never his intention to abuse or make anyone feel “uncomfortable.”

Unlike in the U.S., the UK jury system does not require a unanimous verdict, and once it was revealed that the jury was “deadlocked,” the judge allowed the jury vote of 10-2 for acquittal on all charges to stand as the verdict. Afterwards, a tearful Spacey told reporters that he hoped he could get his life and career back on track, which seems like it will be a tough row to how at this point.

One wonders if Depp’s UK trial would have also have ended in his favor if it was held before a jury of average people who could smell a rat when they saw one, instead of a judge who was clearly biased in favor of Amber Heard. In any case, what we’ve learned from the Spacey case is that despite the fact that the media made it appear that the odds were 100 percent against him in each court of law he was charged in, somehow Spacey prevailed. 

But what does that mean?  We are told (again) that the not guilty verdicts will have a “chilling effect” against other accusers against other men (male accusers of women are of course always lying); if there is a “chilling effect” if ought to be to accusers who are lying for reasons of vindictiveness, or seeking their 15 minutes of fame, or a payday.

As noted, I think regardless of what you think of the guilt or innocence of Spacey, we are still supposed to live in a society where you are innocent until proven guilty, not the other way around. What is even more disturbing is that for many people, the accusation is still the only thing that is important, not the motivations or the truth behind it.           

First a brief discussion about the current state of pop "art," and then a movie--1968's The Swimmer

 

I haven’t “watched” a movie here for a while; I mean films made today are such a fraud. Disney’s new Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs film completely departs from the original story line into another boring feminist fantasy, and features a lead who distinctly does not have “snow white” skin as the original story stipulated (and thus her name), and there is only one “dwarf” among the dwarfs—apparently the filmmakers were too lazy to look for “short” actors or reduce the height of the ones they used through CGI as in Lord of the Rings. I mean, if you want to create a "new world," don't rip-off  a well-known  story--show some imagination and create a new story.

And then there is Barbie, which is just another excuse to make a tiresome feminist empowerment statement while rendering the “Kens” to pointlessness simply because they are male. The “critical consensus” is the “sexism” is “OK,” as long as it is directed at males; one YouTuber even advise men “not to see it.” 

A female commentator in TIME claims the “truth” of the “fragility” of males is “exposed” in Barbie, who hide behind that increasingly mythical feminist bogeyman “the patriarchy,” when in fact the film is more a statement about the “fragility” of women who can only “elevate” themselves by tearing down the men who have built the infrastructure that allows them to attack males in the first place.

However, I should point out that I was never into Barbie or Ken dolls myself when I was a kid, more the GI Joe “dolls,” especially the ones with space suits and could fit in those toy 60s space capsules—now those were “cool,” and no conceited, self-absorbed blonde Barbies need apply:

 

 

That’s the superficial, politically-driven society we live in today. As a change of pace I listened to some 60s music from my CD collection; after hearing The Chamber Brothers' “Time Has Come Today,” I couldn’t help but to observe how completely soulless and unimaginative black music is today; just the same narcissistic vulgarities repeated ad nauseam. 

Truth be told, if music is the "soundtrack" of one's life, then what does today's "music" say about society? Vulgarity and narcissism, hate and self-obsession is what "sells." I don't know what that white guy I overhead telling an Asian guy that Seattle is too "liberal" is talking about; I don't know what he listens too either, but it isn't anything that promotes peace and understanding I bet. 

"Kids" used to play music that moved them; what kind of music do you hear now in public spaces but rap music that is just "attitude" and not about music at all? Anyways, those two guys might not know it, but they can join the crowd, because most people in Seattle are as full of self-absorbed shit as they are in their own way.

Hypocrisy about one's own dysfunction, or having beaten down the "patriarchy," you  now see "artists" free to unleash their own brand of poison to the world. Just look who showed-up in town this past weekend: Taylor Swift continuing her extortion tour in Seattle, with people being charged over $1,000 for "prime" seats for something little more enlightening than bragging rights to friends. 

Swift opened the set (according to the local review) with “The Man,” supposedly railing against gender “double standards.” Frankly, there must be a reason why (from the images of the concert) you would spend most of the time in a baton twirler’s outfit, and—given the conceit of her hook-free “pop” songs—if Swift had done nothing but spend a couple hours twirling a baton I doubt the lives of her audience would have been any less illuminated. 

I suppose that male "fans" only show up to see the baton twirling Aryan-Nordic Barbie doll, while her female fans were enamored by her self-centered "message," which sometimes even she has a difficult time deciphering...

 

 

 

...and is there some hidden meaning to these lyrics that the critics praise because they have nothing better to do?

 

The superficiality of "image" and "art" in evidence is such that all those Swift wannabes I saw marching to Lumen Stadium from an office building window where I work must be living in a fantasy, and that is what a narcissist like Swift--who has had how many ex-boyfriends, two dozen at least, some "role model"--is "selling" them, and people are paying and making her rich listening to her mendacious self-obsessions.

Anyways, for some sociopolitical context, this is the front page of The Seattle Times from Monday, which notes her "ambition," apparently to make herself as rich as possible before her looks fade with age since she isn't a "multi-talented" performer like Madonna (I can't believe I'm saying something "nice" about Madonna)…

 

 

…and the one from August 22, 1964 a day after a certain nobody band played in town:

 

On the second page The Times couldn’t help but elaborate just how “awful” the Beatles were to the youth of society:

 

Talk about "double standards"; do we need any more proof about the difference between substantive art and superficial image, and the fact that real art is to be demeaned and crushed while superficiality is put on a pedestal?  

But enough of that. I'm here to watch a good movie. Unless it goes against the grain of current politics (The Kindergarten Teacher was one), I have little use for current films, just as I have little use for current “music.” Story matters, and as Rainer Werner Fassbinder's World on a Wire proved, you don't need overblown CGI effects to tell even a believably futuristic tale, one that stimulates the intellect as well as the senses.

It’s just “remarkable” to me that there are great films dating from the silent era that I find meaningful and entertaining, and yet in the past 20 years such films are few and far between—and that can be directly attributed to current “politics” where you can’t speak to reality, only of the fantasy world of the self-righteously self-obsessed, or the video game fanatic.

I was considering at one point or another to do a post on The Ninth Configuration, I Knew Her Well, and Dillinger is Dead. The latter, directed by Marco Ferreri, whose film Don’t Touch the White Woman I looked at here a year ago, could be about a lot, or about nothing at all. I suppose even it is about “nothing,” that is the “point”;  Glauco (Michel Piccoli) wanders about his flat looking for “diversion” and mostly not finding it, not even from his wife who never seems to leave the bed. Why doesn’t he just get out of the flat and wander the city? Those are the kind of questions that are a matter of 100 interpretations of the film by 100 different people. I mean what is “art,” after all? To some, like the callous art dealer Guillaume in The Young Girls of Rochefort, it’s shooting paintballs at the wall.

But at least a film like Dillinger is “art” that dares you to uncover any “message” you can find. I’m going to look at a film now whose “message” is deceptive in the beginning, but once we realize that there is something not quite right going on, the result is a crushing take on the human condition. I’ve looked at another film with a similar take on “normal” suburban life, Larry Cohen’s Bone, but the 1968 film The Swimmer takes a little longer to reveal itself, one swimming pool to the next. 

Although known to true videophiles as “cult” classic, I suspect few have seen or ever even heard of it despite a Hollywood icon in the lead role in what Roger Ebert called in his review the actor’s “finest performance.” The Swimmer, based on what is generally considered to be John Cheever's best short story, stars Burt Lancaster as “the swimmer.” The Grindhouse Releasing Blu-ray/DVD combo was given a rare perfect score across the board by Blu-ray.com, and the film certainly justifies the effort put into this release. 

As an aside, I would also recommend Grindhouse’s Death Game BD, although neither of its audio commentaries, which are mostly self-promoting, do anything to enhance the understanding of the film’s “message,” or whether Sondra Locke’s unhinged performance is too “natural” to be mere “acting.” And for those interested in classic freaky movies of the past, Criterion is releasing in October a Tod Browning collection on Blu-ray that includes Freaks (finally) and The Unknown; for me it’s the “highlight” of a rather lackluster upcoming BD release schedule in the next three months.

But back to The Swimmer, which was co-written and directed by Frank Perry before the relationship between he and Lancaster became so unworkable that Perry was fired and Sidney Pollack was brought in to finish the film. Lancaster was known for trying to be the “co-director” on the set, but at least we can say that in this film the end product justified his own “vision" of it.

That is not to say that the film—despite its 100 percent “fresh” rating on Rotten Tomatoes—is everyone’s cup of tea if movies are supposed to have no more meaning than a few hours of diversion or for those absorbed by the current socio-political constructs. Many with short attention spans would find The Swimmer “confusing” and “pointless” before asking themselves “What did I miss?” by the film’s “unexpectedly” disturbing climax.

For people who appreciate the effort of trying to achieve something more “meaningful” and actually has something to say about the human condition. and take the time to ponder that meaning, The Swimmer has something to say about human existence that dares people’s notion of reality. 

Many people live in a world of illusion, often attacking those who expose their illusions rather than engage in self-examination. Lancaster’s character, Ned Merrill, comes off as an affable, full of energy character, but during his journey “home,” the reality of his life is only gradually revealed even as Ned himself seems completely oblivious to it.

The deception of the film begins in the opening credits, as we see random images of the “outdoors,” with that kind of “wood” lettering more often used in Old West or pioneer films. The falling leaves denotes the end of summer and the beginning of fall, and this may not be entirely without deliberation:

 

The camera seems to be following the movements of an unseen person through this wooded area. After the credits the tracking shots are replaced by one where we see the point of view of the person walking…

 

…who is revealed to be a very-tanned man wearing nothing but bathing shorts:

 

So what is this supposed to mean? Is this guy some overgrown “nature boy”? Is this supposed to be a “comedy” or satire (presuming the viewer hasn’t read the original story)? Or maybe some off-beat parable told through this man’s existence? 

We the see the man, Ned, approaching a backyard pool, and briefly everything makes sense, seemingly:

 

 

Ned dives into the pool, takes a few laps, obviously enjoying himself. But then we discover something odd: this isn’t his backyard, and the owner, Don, apparently didn’t know he was even in the neighborhood. As he hands Ned a drink…

 

…he wonders where Ned has been all this time. He and his wife are genuinely pleased to see him, so their knowledge of Ned is extends no further than the last time they met, which apparently was good times, and they miss his "life of the party" company:

 

Another man shows up, named Stu; he too is genuinely surprised and pleased to see Ned; where has he been hiding himself?:

 

Stu was transferred out to the “provinces,” so we can assume that he hasn’t been around town for a while, just visiting. Ned tells him his wife Lucinda is doing “great” and so are his two daughters. We have no reason to disbelieve him. The day is bright and warm and so is Ned and these friends. Here’s someone else who is happy to see Ned, Stu’s wife Peggy:

 

 

Again, the viewer is presented with an image of Ned showing him physically fit for his age, everything is “great” in his life, and he has friends who like him. The only questionable feature in all of this, and that only in hindsight, is that Ned seems to act a little too young for his age, as if he is still a party boy. He just wants to flirt with the ladies and take a swim. We learn that he’s in advertising and he certainly seems to be able to sell himself, at least to these people.

Ned brags about his lover boy exploits and Peggy needles him about it; he is too “old” for that kind of thing. Then we get the first inkling of something amiss: Ned suggests that she forget about the plane Stu has to catch that day, and suggests that Lucinda will “miss” her if they don’t meet; Helen muses “I don’t think that is exactly true,” which momentarily unlightens the mood.

Ned offers Peggy a ride to his house to meet Lucinda, but Helen quickly intercedes and tells him Peggy need to meet the Grahams for a drinks after dropping Stu at the airport. Again, something is amiss about Ned, and it may have something that someone knows but isn’t willing to speak about. Suddenly Ned has this “vision” and proclaims that he is going to go pool-hopping all the way home:

 

Helen thinks this is nuts, and tries to persuade Ned to join them at the Grahams, but he won’t be dissuaded. That Ned has “forgotten” the name of a woman who has a pool on his itinerary, Shirley Abbott, seems to surprise them. Off Ned goes, and his next stop, interestingly enough, is at the Grahams' home, where he meets Betty (Kim Hunter), who also seems surprised and pleased to see him:

 

Like the people he just left, Betty has been wondering where he’s been all this time. Ned admires the new pool; they have a had a “good year.” The pool looks “absolutely terrific”:

 

They discuss how clear the water is and the best water filter money can buy. In this world of upper-middle class suburbia, superficial considerations are important, although not everyone is welcome as Helen had sarcastically noted that the Biswanger’s—who she suggests are “beneath” their like socially—got a big new pool themselves.

Ned says he can’t stay, he just wants to swim the pool, which Betty admits is a little "rude" since he just got there, so he agrees to have a drink with her. Then we get an inkling of who Ned really is; Betty observes that Ned didn’t respect her husband, Howard, even as schoolmates, much and didn’t think he was going to “make it”:

 

Ned doesn’t seem to “remember” this; we will discover that he doesn’t remember a lot, especially of the recent past. He surprises Betty by claiming he was just “jealous,” and “crazy” about her; her reaction tells us that this came as news to her, he had never said anything to her about such feelings:

 

Ned starts laughing; was he was “kidding?” Betty reminds him the reason why he got “smashed” at her wedding was because Lucinda was dancing with another man. Ned tells her she has a “long memory”; we suspect that Ned doesn’t care to remember the past himself, except for the “good times.” 

Betty claims that she has “everything” she wants, but maybe not “everything,” as it is wistfully expressed. Then Howard appears and again we are presented with a scene of genuine friendliness, although we suspect that this doesn’t extend far beyond pool parties these days:

 

Ned can’t help suggesting that Howard maybe in over his head, noting his new riding lawnmower is idling too slow and annoys him by fixing it. Still, Howard feels he needs to boast about his new pool to impress Ned. It should be noted at this point that Ned is only at the start of his aquatic journey home; there is no mention of Ned’s place, as if they haven’t been there in quite some time.

Howard also can’t help but put down another homeowner, one who “skimps” on the maintenance of his pool, unlike they do with their expensive filter system. Betty observes the sky, and doesn’t like the “look” of that cloud:

 

We don’t know it yet, but the change from a sunny late summer day to something less welcoming is not a “coincidence” as we shall see, but for now it is just a matter of annoyance to spoil the party.

But then we do discover that there is something seriously amiss when it is mentioned that if Ned had installed a pool at his house the resale value would be higher, but he never got around to it. Ned wants to sell the house to the best buyer, but not before his daughters are married their first. This pronouncement startles both Betty and Harold, and Harold is about to speak before Betty holds his tongue:

 

Ned further disturbs them by claiming his driveway is full of cars of boys after his girls. By the reactions of Betty and Harold we realize that Ned is suffering from some form of mental delusion and what he is saying cannot possibly be true. They rush off when they hear Don and Helen arrive, telling Ned to stay put. No doubt there is going to be a discussion about Ned and what to do about his mental state.

Ned doesn't stay, however; he dives into the pool, and presumably leaves and enters the next pool, meeting on the other side a Mrs. Hammer, who despite Ned's usual affable greeting, is the first person we encounter who is not pleased to see him:

 

She is the mother of Ned’s friend Eric who apparently had taken ill a few years earlier; Mrs. Hammer accuses Ned of never having visited or called him at the hospital, but Ned seems not know of the illness. Eric apparently died, because Mrs. Hammer tells him she owns the property now and he is no longer welcome there:

 

 

It is now apparent that for all Ned’s charm, there is a certain shallowness about him. He isn’t living in the real world, or has removed himself from it. There are things he chooses not to remember, and from this point on he can’t run from it anymore, although he tries as he runs down a trail in the woods:

 

He stops and ponders, obviously disturbed by this last encounter. He seems genuinely puzzled at Mrs. Hammer's behavior toward him:

 

However, his spirit brightens when a horse in a pasture apparently recognizes him and seems “pleased” to see him. Ned “races” the horse along the fence, re-imagining his former youth and fitness:

 

Leaving the horse, Ned next encounters one young woman in a swimming who greets him cheerfully as “Mr. Merrill”:

 

He then encounters his daughters’ former babysitter, Julie, who seems very pleased to see him:

 

Ned meets her kid brother, who tells Ned he liked that red Jaguar he used to have. So what are his girls doing now? Ned says they are back home playing tennis; this surprises the first woman, who asks “When did they” before cutting herself off. If they are “home” they’d love to see them:

 

Julie wants to drive over to their house, but Ned says he has to leave, and tells them about his pool-hopping plan. While the others think its nuts, Julie thinks its “cool” and “original.” Ned invites her to join him, to brave the torrential headwaters of the Lucinda River; is this a reference to problems in his family life?

Julie is unsure, but is persuaded. She and Ned walk through the woods and reminisce about the past:

 

Ned observes that she seemed to be a shy girl when she came to babysit, but she admits to not only thinking a lot, but having a terrific crush on him. Even if his wife called at the last minute, she would drop everything and pretty herself up just to impress Ned. She tells him about her fantasies about him, but when pressed by Ned, she stops short of suggesting fantasizing about having sex with him, seeing his demeanor suggesting something carnal in his mind:

 

Clearly uncomfortable with what she just admitted to, anything further revelations are interrupted by the sound of partying, and Ned suggests they visit the Bunkers, where the noise is coming from. Again, Ned is warmly greeted:

 

The hostess is glad to see “Neddy,” who unlike her husband in the pool, can always be counted on to be the “life of the party.” She wants to know what he’s been up to lately:

 

When Ned doesn’t respond to the question, the hostess turns to meet another guest, suggesting Ned and Julie get a drink. Ned encounters another old acquaintance, who greets him by calling him an “old fossil”:

 

Another encounter brings up the question of if it is “diplomatic” to ask of Lucinda; she’s just great, Ned says, but we have reason to doubt this by now. Everyone seems to know Ned; this man notes that he was missed at some sporting event this year:

 

Then he meets Brian, who tells Ned that it was a “stinking thing they did” to him at the advertising agency he worked at, replacing him with a “young firecracker”:

 

What do we know now about Ned? He was probably fired from his job and replaced by a younger man, doesn’t own an expensive car (or any car, from what we can tell), his house is probably for sale, his marital life is likely not a happy one, and his daughters apparently were in some kind of trouble (maybe put in jail, and why?). Of course none of this explains why he just suddenly appeared wearing nothing but bathing trunks, but there is more to learn.

At the party is Cynthia, who Ned apparently once had a “fling” or two with; she suggests that they meet that evening at her place, her expression suggesting she has a sexual encounter in mind:

 

 

Apparently Ned has a reputation with the women about the neighborhood, and his relationship with his wife is such that he seeks pleasure elsewhere, which isn’t hard to do since he has a way of impressing women with his charm and masculine appeal. Cynthia, however, is put off when Ned tells her that Lucinda might have made “plans,” suggesting that she finds it hard to believe that he and Lucinda are even talking.

Another man Ned meets at the party is also amazed to see him, and tells Ned he has been trying to reach him for quite a while now, but he has can't find his phone number. A new advertising agency has just opened and they could use someone with his experience:

 

But Ned balks when he is told he will have to take a pay cut at first. However, we sense that Ned isn’t looking for a job anyways. What has he been doing for the past year? Where has he been if he doesn’t even have a phone number? Can we suspect that in his delusional state he has just “escaped” from a mental institution?

That man tells Ned he doesn’t have to pretend with him; he was probably a sympathetic former co-worker at his ad agency. Ned and Julie leave the party, and Ned tries to impress her by jumping over the horse-riding hurdles:

 

This is all “nuts,” especially when Ned comes up limping after landing awkwardly. He and Julie walk through the woods looking for a place to sit down. Ned is interested in her life and what she is doing, but he never divulges anything about what he’s doing. He expresses concern when she tells him about a man “exposed” himself during one of her deliveries for her secretarial job, telling Julie she should tell someone:

 

But when he tells her that in order to "protect" her from such people he would go with her every day on the train to work, go with her when she left on errands and then take her to lunch, she thinks this is a bit “creepy,” given their age difference. She tells Ned she has a boyfriend who is the jealous type:

 

When Ned tells her he will be her “guardian angel” and begins touching her in romantic manner, this freaks Julie out and she runs away. Ned watches her run in disbelief and hurt; he seems not to understand what he has done:

 

  

Ned’s “charm” has its limits, and these days it only works on women who are past their primes themselves. He is definitely past his prime now, since he spends the rest of the film limping on a bum leg, but he still thinks like someone who hasn't "grown up" yet. From here on out, those dark clouds that Betty observed will begin to consume him.

Ned can’t run anymore, and he hitches a ride to the Hallorans’, whose car he waves down is actually being driven by a chauffeur who is not their previous driver, named Steve:

 

While “socially” Ned seems to be on the same “level” as his supposed neighbors, everything else about him appears to indicate that financially he is not. Ned apparently has not been to Hallorans’ estate in years, or at least he doesn’t “remember.” The chauffeur  apparently knows who he is, and he’s been driving for Halloran’s for a “couple years,” but he has the manners not to question Ned’s memory lapses:

 

Yes, the Hallorans are doing very well, even doing business wearing nothing at all, being nudists:

 

 

They see Ned taking off his swimming trucks and approaching bear ass; they assume he’s there to ask them for a “loan,” and they will give him the same answer (presumably “no”). They don’t immediately shoo him away, they just exchange small talk about the bare ash tree and how screwed-up the world is:

 

Ned sees some invitations to an expensive benefit dinner that costs $1,000 dollars a seat; when Ned tells them to put him down, Mr. Halloran gives his wife a look that says Ned is out of his mind—he has no money:

 

Ned insists that Mrs. Halloran to put his name down. Mr. Halloran tells him that he was “sorry” he couldn’t “help” his family after he lost what we assume to be everything. But Ned still insists that everything is fine and his daughters are still playing tennis at home, to which Mrs. Halloran gives an eye-roll. As he walks away to take a swim, they express surprise that he didn’t ask these skinflints for money:

 

He must be “back on his feet” for all they know, but Mrs. Halloran knows better, and crosses his name off the list. Continuing his journey, Ned encounters a boy minding his lemonade stand; of course Ned doesn’t have a penny to pay, let alone a dime, but persuades the boy to provide him a cup, “promising” to come back tomorrow and pay him:

 

By now we realize that Ned he won’t be back, but that feeling is now tempered by the fact we realize that something terrible has happened to him, living in a world that once was but no longer exists for him: he just doesn’t seem to realize that yet, and it will take a few more “shocks” to his self-image for him to come that realization, if he does at all.

The wind starts blowing; it isn’t summer anymore, and Ned tries to cover himself up from the sudden chill:

 

The boy is alone at home, save for the maid to watch him. Ned invites him to his house to play with his girls who he says are about his age:

 

 

The boy is doubtful, even if he doesn’t suspect the reason—which is that Ned’s girls are teenagers, and unfortunately (as we will discover) old enough to have driver’s licenses. Ned asks if he can swim in their pool, and they walk together to it, except that it appears to be devoid of water, which upsets Ned's plans:

 

The boy says his parents emptied the pool because they don’t use it and he’s not a good swimmer, or at sports at all. Ned says it doesn’t matter if the other kids don’t want you on their team, you are “free,” you are your own “captain”:

 

Ned persuades the boy to join him in pretending to swim across the pool:

 

Ned isn’t really a bad guy; he is just seems like an overgrown kid who converses with young people and kids more than he can with adults, which we have seen is superficial and mundane at best.

The boy points out that this swimming it is just “pretend,” but Ned tells him if you believe hard enough, then it is “true”:

 

 The boy wants to “swim” again, but Ned doesn’t have time and leaves the boy disappointed that his new friend doesn’t want to play anymore, leaving the scene on a sour note:

 

When Ned hears the pool springboard moving, he rushes back to “save” the boy from diving into an empty pool. But the boy doesn’t live in a fantasy world, in fact his commentary on his absent mother and father shows that he has a maturity beyond his age, and he knows there is no water in the pool:

 

Next is the Biswanger’s place, and now we know why the “old money” doesn’t care for these “new money” people—their backyard looks like an amusement park, and they probably created this to get even with the neighbors who have snubbed them, including Ned:

 

There’s even a band and people dancing and generally acting as if they don’t have a care in the world…

 

…and Henry Biswanger boasting about his exploits:

 

The first person to notice Ned is Henry's wife Grace, who calls him a “gatecrasher” who never showed up before even when he was invited:

 

She doesn’t care for his presence, but allows him to have a drink at the bar. At the bar Ned encounters Joan (Joan Rivers) who apparently is a lonely woman. Ned senses this and starts in with his lover-boy routine that seems to be working on her…

 

…and until a man who does know him interferes and leads Joan away from Ned and warns her about him:

 

Ned dives into the pool, and on the other side encounters a hotdog stand that he used to own:

 

He is told that the cart was purchased at a “white elephant sale,” suggesting that it was sold in desperation to get any money out of it. Ned wants it back and will write a check for $100 for it. Henry sneers at this; when Ned tries to take the cart he is pushed to the ground…

 

…and told he can “crash” out of here. Ned walks through some darkened woods until he reaches the light, but what is out there for him now:

 

 

He arrives at another backyard pool…

 

…occupied by Shirley (Janice Rule), who doesn’t seem too happy to see him either, although for different reasons:

 

She hasn’t seen him for at least a year; what he’s doing there now? When he tells her of his pool-hopping, she asks if he will ever grow-up. After removing a splinter from her foot, he tries to kiss it, but she kicks him away:

 

Still, Shirley seems confused about Ned’s seeming to make himself at home as if nothing was wrong, and allows him to fix himself a drink:

 

Shirley then makes a curious comment: she wants to know how things are in Never Never Land, the house he lives in on the “hill” now. Ned doesn’t seem to understand what she is talking about. She makes a sarcastic comment about Lucinda, who seems to be a person living in her own fantasy world of self-importance. Ned notes that she has done a lot of good about town, but Shirley says she isn’t so good at “home” is she?:

 

Ned then dredges up old memories of his extramarital relationship with her. Shirley doesn’t want to remember their “good” times anymore and demands he leaves. He hasn’t seen her since he started “playing house” and she is hurt by it:

 

 

Ned continues to be affected by the cold, and not just by the temperature; he seems to be sensing that he’s done some things in the past that he chooses not to remember. “What’s the matter with the sun? There’s no heat in it?” as Shirley, frustrated by his presence gets up and walks away. He asks “What happened—nothings turned out the way I thought it would”:

 

He says he used to believe in things when he was a kid, people seemed happier then, people loved each other. “You got tossed out of your golden playpen, that’s what happened,” Shirley muses. Ned doesn’t respond to this; he remembers as if only a minute ago he was a kid, his mother paying him a quarter for mowing the lawn. Times goes so fast. People grow up so fast—and then they die:

 

Shirley seems perturbed by this talk; what’s gotten into him? This isn’t the fun-loving lover boy she used to know. But then she won’t be fooled again. She tells him how she once spied on him at a theater with his unfun wife and kids, and how he was smiling and shaking hands with people. She was the one who put that smile on his face—they had just in bed together an hour ago:

 

She tells him to take his swim and get out. She is overcome with emotion, since she still remembers how she felt about him once and still feels the pain of how he discarded her for no apparent reason, which seems to move Ned, although we still are not sure he knows what he did in his current mental state:

 

We realize that this is true when he asks her who’s the man she waiting for, and how she rates him in bed from a scale from one to ten; this attempt to shift blame causes her to throw her drink in his face, and again insists that he leave now:

 

What did he do to her, Ned wants to know. “The usual red-blooded married man thing” Shirley says; we suspect that Shirley thought that she was going to be something other than a mistress, and that Ned was going to get divorced from Lucinda, who wasn’t making him happy, and marry her, who was making him happy.

Instead, he lectured her about the “duties” of a husband and father at chic restaurant in New York. Ned beats his brains but doesn’t remember; he remembers the “good times,” but seems to have a mental block on the bad things:

 

Shirley recalls this “lecture” in front of all these wealthy, selfish people and cried. Ned now actually remembers her crying and raising her voice. Ned says it tore him apart to see her cry. Shirley won’t relent; she accuses Ned of taking her to that restaurant because he thought she wouldn’t make a fuss when he apparently told her their relationship was over.

 

Ned still thinks none of this is true. He insists that he loved her, and didn’t know what to do. “So you went back to your wife who you didn’t love. That figures” Shirley retorts. Lucinda apparently “owns everything,” including the real estate, and even is petty enough to count all the lost buttons from his shirts. We suspect that Ned’s wife came from a well-off family, and Ned was just some guy with big dreams and smooth talk, but no money of his own. “Why give up all those comforts” she says sarcastically:

 

She tells him about at the hotel they apparently made love at she had sex with the bellhop who had no hang-ups, and they had both laughed as they listen to Ned “sniveling” on the phone while they lay in bed together. Ned, hurt himself, tries to make things better by rubbing suntan lotion on Shirley’s back, perhaps a sexual gesture as we saw previously with Julie:

 

He tells her they can go away for a few weeks to a great old castle in Ireland he read about, now an inn with big soft beds. Shirley seems on the verge of succumbing to his charms again, and continues to insist that he leave:

  

It was always easy for him, getting a taxi in the rain or a girl in bed. She was easy enough for him. She thought they were really going to make it:

 

Ned caresses her shoulder; she tells him to stop and gets up and walks away with her hands covering her tears. He tells her he never meant to hurt her. He sits down shivering, and Shirley, suddenly overcome with compassion, offers to get him a sweater and a ride home. Ned refuses both, incomprehensibly insisting that he has to complete the journey he set out on:

 

He tells Shirley that Lucinda and his girls are waiting for him. At this point Shirley suspects something else is wrong with Ned. “My God” she says, and puts a towel over him:

 

Ned mistakes this compassion for passion, and leads Shirley into the pool and starts caressing her, again insisting that they leave together. Ned wants to make love in the pool as they once did, but Shirley insists that he stop:

 

When he won’t, she assaults whatever self-worth he has left, insisting she lied when she said she loved him, that she was bored to tears with his talk about business, his old girlfriends, his golf scores, his wars, his duty to wife and his girls…

 

…and promptly leaves him, slamming the door of her house behind her…

 

…as Ned looks on in shock, his lover boy act in a shambles, and for the first time realizing that his life has been a Potemkin Village, all façade:
 

 

Next we see Ned trying to cross a busy highway, with a carfull of kids even throwing garbage at him. People probably think he is some kind of nut:

 

Ned manages to cross the road to a public swimming pool; the attendant (played by the son of John Garfield, David) won’t let him in unless he pays the 50 cent admission charge, which of course he doesn’t have:

 

He won’t lend him 50 cents either, and as Ned is about to leave he encounters another old acquaintance, Howie, who despite the objections of his wife lends him the money:

 

Ned is told by another attendant to wash his feet; we see that he is still shivering, but upon reflection this may be less reality than another indication of Ned’s psychological and physical state, since no else seems to think it is too cold for a swim:

 

As Ned washes his feet, we can see how bloody and scarred they are now. He limps his way into the crowded pool, barely making it across, his energy completely sapped since he left Shirley’s place:

 

He barely can lift himself out of the pool, and there to meet (as opposed to "greet") him is Howie, Jack and their wives:

 

Your friends’ pools run out of water? How do you like our water? Too much chlorine, Ned says, not catching the sarcasm. Howie notes the “good times” when Ned showed up in town and they used to meet four or five times a week for drinks, but he hasn’t seen him in a long time—which is true of everyone else that Ned has encountered on this day:

 

Howie’s wife insists that he ask Ned about paying his bills, but since he wants to make nice, she asks Ned herself; maybe they owned a catering business. Jack also claims that Ned owes them money. He is the first “deadbeat” they ever had, Howie’s wife says:

 

Jack notes that Lucinda always had to have expensive foreign-made foods, “American” wasn’t good enough for her. Who did she think she was?:

 

Howie doesn’t want to fight, and he answers Ned’s question about how his family is doing, how his son just won a scholarship…

 

…while we see that his wife wants to talk about Ned’s kids. “Our kids get straight As and behave themselves” she says, not “run around drunk and wrecking cars” she sneers, which of course is a commentary on Ned and Lucinda's parenting skills. Jack wonders how Ned managed to keep his girls’ names out of the papers:

 

So were the girls in a juvenile detention center that Julie's friend seemed about to ask? Leave my girls alone, Ned says, but is told to “teach them some manners” then. Howie’s wife smirks and says they wouldn’t listen to him anyways. The girls laughed at Ned behind his back for acting as if he was still a teenager. When even Howie is forced to tell him the truth, another part of Ned self-image is completely destroyed:

 

 

Ned escapes up a hill…

 

 

…barely able to revive himself once he reaches the top:

 

 

He passes a rusted gate, and seems unable to understand what he sees beyond it:

 

The place looks like it’s been deserted for years. It’s starting to rain as he walks past the long unused tennis court where he imagines he hears the girls playing:

 

He reaches the locked door of what must have been a lavish residence at one point…

 

…but through the broken glass we see an empty space where only a box of refuse resides, including  an old tennis racket…

 

…and finally Ned is left crouching before the door, all illusions (we think) destroyed and (maybe) the reality of his life something he can no longer “swim” from:

 

Ned obviously no longer lives here,  for some number of years now. Was this the "never never land on the hill" that Shirley referred to  (and where she presumably intended to drive him to, and not here), or is it a place that probably is Lucinda's family residence? Or could it be some mental health facility? Wherever Ned lives, for him it must be a world of make-believe now.

None of the people who we have met on Ned's journey remember seeing him for at least a year,  so what has he been doing? He obviously hasn't been busy at a job, and it may explain why he has no phone number.

Everything about Ned's current family life has probably been something he simply imagined to disguise the truth. Or perhaps "family life" has become so intolerable for him that he simply "snapped" and remembering all the pool parties he attended with his former neighbors, decided he was going to go "swimming" in an old friend's pool; but in avoiding answering questions about his life, he decides to go on this pool-hopping expedition and return to the house which he apparently believes is a return to his previous existence.

But as we go along, we not only discover his life is a fantasy, his old friends and neighbors also live in their own superficial existences, wanting to have what the other neighbor has (a nice swimming pool, a riding lawnmower), being snobbish about another neighbor. Life is about having things--things that Ned no longer has, but his affable personality at least is still appreciated by those whose life is otherwise just empty conversation.

It is said that Cheever's story is a parable about one man's physical and mental descent reflective of his failure in life; the changes in the weather only seem to negatively effect him, which we can take as reality or as representational of Ned's life. Cheever also intended the story to about the sordidness that lies behind the supposed perfect facade of white suburban existence, and how one man's need to maintain the facade ultimately destroyed him. 

The "truth," as far as we can gather, is that Ned's life took a turn for the worst when he lost his advertising job, and that was apparently the first blow to his self image. As his former coworker who said there could be a job waiting for him if he wanted it told him, Ned didn't have to pretend that life was "good" when he knew it wasn't, but Ned either just wanted to keep "pretending," or he has lost his mind because of an inability to come to grips with the life he no longer has.

The people who cared him about knew the truth, but kept quiet about it when they saw that Ned was under some delusion; Betty and her husband were concerned enough about his mental state that she and her husband rushed off to meet Don and Helen to discuss what they should do about Ned, but he left before they could help him. 

As time went on, we learn that Ned was broke, and people didn't really like his stuck-up wife and undisciplined daughters. We learn this mainly from the people who were not friends with Ned, or those he and his family alienated along the way. This might not all be Ned's fault, since we learn that Lucinda was the controlling type who demanded only "the best," which didn't help the family's financial situation; this may "explain" Ned's memory lapses, since he is only remembering his own behavior, which he seems to think is blameless.

What happens to Ned now? John Cheever's short story doesn't offer any clues, since it just ends with Ned looking through the windows into an empty house. This film in fact greatly expands on the original story, adding many additional aspects that didn't previously exist in it. While some people might say that a literary source tells the "story" best, I don't think that is true in this regard; the film I think is much more powerful and thought-provoking experience than Cheever's original story.