Frank Perry deserved a lot better than he got during his lifetime. A director whose work was always defined by an uncompromising fascination with the human condition, he directed several films that may have not received the acclaim they warranted in their initial release, but certainly could be considered ahead of their time, with Perry having made numerous terrific films that should deservedly be reevaluated. The Swimmer is one of his most fascinating films – a social drama focused on the degradation of the American class system, as well as a satirical psychological thriller about the machinations of the upper-class and their inability to structure themselves along any coherent spectrum of logic or decency. Looking at The Swimmer over half a century since its original release is a fascinating task, as through the sardonic approach Perry takes to John Cheever’s story, we encounter one of the bleakest, haunting demonstrations of social unease ever committed to film – and with an acidic sense of humour, a masterful control over the form and a tone that would unsettle nearly any viewer, Frank and Eleanor Perry take a deep, disconcerting dive into the roots of American society, crafting a film that is as relevant today as it was during its original release, where audiences were not quite ready for the bizarre experience that The Swimmer would afford them.

It’s a sunny afternoon somewhere in Connecticut. Ned Merrill (Burt Lancaster) is the embodiment of the bourgeoisie. He finds himself visiting some equally-wealthy friends, all of which spend their days lounging by their pools and sipping expensive drinks, commenting on the privileges they take for granted as if they’re relaying the most insignificant events. Ned is a man of bold ambition and decides that he’s going to undertake quite an interesting journey – realizing that the valley he is in consists of many houses that contain swimming pools, he makes the choice that the rest of the afternoon will be spent “swimming” his way home, meaning that he will visit each of these homes and use their pools until he reaches his residence on the other side of the hill, where his loving wife and daughters are waiting for him. His journey starts off well – everyone is happy to see him and invite him to take part in their various upper-class activities. However, as his adventure progresses, Ned becomes increasingly focused on what was initially more of an amusing idea and begins to behave in slightly erratic ways. This coincides with the growing disillusionment felt by those he encounters – his neighbours seem to become more hostile to him, knowing secrets about him that Ned has seemingly forgotten. The closer to his home he ventures, the more distilled the hatred towards a man who has always presented himself as being a good, hard-working individual – but everyone else seems to feel quite differently.

The Swimmer is a film built on a foundation of questions and defined by its refusal to provide any answers. A filmmaker who was capable of both great lucidity and incredible forays into the realm of the slightly absurd, Perry crafts a surreal portrait of the world that feels incredibly real at the outset, and gradually unveils itself as an uncanny version of surroundings that become increasingly bleak, especially as the more exuberant sheen of the film intentionally erodes, with Perry endeavouring to expose the darker side of society, and how these idyllic suburban landscapes are not as perfect as they would appear. A quintessential suburban satire, and a prototype for many of the subsequent films that would seek to touch on these unsettling themes, The Swimmer is one of the most disconcerting explorations of American society, with the director creating a bold (and beautifully-stylistic) portrayal of the class system, looking beneath common perceptions and finding the more uncomfortable facts about the social strata that are almost entirely unspoken due to the well-preserved standards that prevent us from ever quite crossing that boundary in which these issues become all that evident. Perry’s intention was not to eviscerate these standards through subverting them or commenting on them, but rather through stating the facts as they were, in the hopes that the underlying message, that of societal disconnect, and how the hostility felt between the different classes manifests as willful ignorance, in the hopes of suppressing the anxiety into a more dormant form, peacefully trodding along until better opportunities present themselves.

This is an incredibly challenging film, but there is no doubt The Swimmer would not have been such an effective work had it not been for Burt Lancaster. His commanding presence and incredible ability to get beneath the skin of any character rightfully made him one of the greatest movie icons of the Golden Age of Hollywood. However, where Lancaster really set himself apart from the rest of his contemporaries was in his willingness to take a risk – and whether working in independent film (which was still far from being the acclaimed, embraced form of filmmaking that it is considered as being today), or in more arthouse-oriented fare, Lancaster was always able to lend his talents, and often found himself being rewarded with some of his best work. The Swimmer is focused entirely on his character of Ned Merrill, an upper-class man who spends his afternoon weaving through suburban Connecticut, encountering many old acquaintances and even making some new friends along the way. The role seemed perfectly suited to Lancaster’s talents, specifically considering how Ned has to start as the embodiment of someone who has not only achieved the American Dream but has grown comfortable in it. However, as the film progresses, this confidence begins to erode, until Ned is exposed as nothing more than a fragile, insecure man with enormous delusions that he conceals through his association with many affluent people. The role required someone with the charm of a movie star, and the gravitas of a character actor and Lancaster’s career was clearly the intersection between them.

Lancaster’s impressive work here enrichens this incredibly bewildering story of class disconnect, and in working with the director (or rather, being in frequent conflict based on their clearly different visions), manages to evoke an aching melancholy from a story that could have so easily been derailed by complete absurdity. The premise of The Swimmer is one that one needs to become acclimated to because an initial introduction to it isn’t going to harbour much enthusiasm – the idea of a man swimming across an upper-class valley sounds incredibly far-fetched, and while the film does make liberal use of more surreal narrative devices, it does betray the fact that there’s a lot of depth lurking beneath this film, with Perry managing to convey a truly unsettling sense of social horror, with the slow descent into more uncanny territory culminating in one of the most harrowing conclusions of the era. The Swimmer is a film that offers the keen viewer an endless amount of possibility for textual analysis – whether in the form – the gorgeous technicolour employed through creates a beautiful landscape – or the content of the film, where techniques such as the repetition of certain motifs, whether the similarities in the houses and pools or the constant insistence that his two daughters are “at home, playing tennis” become increasingly unsettling and allow Perry to not only comment on the excess of the upper-class but also explore the psychological underpinnings of a troubled protagonist, who the audience can never quite embrace, regardless of how much we try to get a grip on him.

The Swimmer is a tremendously effective voyage into the upper-class, made by a director who has yet to attain the critical reappraisal he deserves. It’s a gorgeous, sumptuous exercise that seeks to convey the uncomfortable sense of suburban decay that is so often forgotten when it comes to conveying the excesses of the most wealthy, where the style is only matched by the incredible substance that co-occurs alongside it. It’s a potent satire that combines the melodrama of Douglas Sirk with the unhinged paranoia of Franz Kafka, creating a labyrinthine drama that touches on many themes that are normally avoided in even the most subversive satires. It is an innovative addition to the growing New Hollywood movement, filled with the controversial subject matter, darkly comical approach to the premise and a set of themes that are brilliantly conceived by a director whose work is the epitome of defiance against normative standards. Fantastic performances abound, shepherded by one of Lancaster’s great screen portrayals, and all work towards constructing this dizzying, polarizing portrait of a society rapidly deteriorating without anyone even noticing – or perhaps, as the film implies, they are fully aware of it but choose to ignore it. It’s an incredible work of elegant but unsettling surrealism that launches the viewer into a state of complete frenzy, introducing us to a world that seems too starkly familiar to ever be comfortable. It’s a brilliant work of psychological drama that keeps us on edge, and never allows us a single moment of relief. Challenging but incredibly poignant, The Swimmer is truly astonishing.