The Swimmer

Ned Merrill Burt Lancaster emerges from the trees wearing only a bathing suit, stepping into a sun-drenched pool party hosted by old friends in a privileged Connecticut suburb. The morning is light, the air is warm, and Ned carries with him a mix of charm and a hint of calculation as he sips a cocktail and listens to memories of nights past. He recalls a dare of his youth, a story of swimming up the clean green headwaters of a river, a quick, almost cinematic journey that promised a straight line home. That notion of “swim your way home” sticks with him as he glides into the present, using the poolscape as a kind of artificial river, a chain of backyards linked by water, each pool a stepping-stone on his imagined course back to his house.

What follows is less a straightforward reunion than a wandering, gently uneasy odyssey through a neighborhood that is at once gleaming and judgmental. Ned’s glide from pool to pool becomes a social test, and the people he encounters react with curiosity, reserve, or quiet disapproval. In one encounter, his path crosses with Julie Ann Hooper Janet Landgard, a former babysitter for his daughters, who confesses a schoolgirl crush and a complicated history with him. Ned’s responses veer between protective and possessive as he speaks of safeguarding Julie, sketching out plans that feel more like theater than prudence. Julie joins him for a moment, sharing champagne in a grove of trees, but the conversation turns increasingly intimate and uncomfortable, revealing how far Ned’s ambitions have strayed from ordinary friendship.

The journey leads Ned to the Hallorans, a wealthy elderly couple who practice nudism and conduct themselves with a relaxed ease that neither condemns nor fully accepts Ned’s flamboyant self-mythology. They are amused but unimpressed by his theatrics, offering no real shelter from the waters he’s trying to chart. Soon he meets Kevin Gilmartin Jr., a lonely young boy, and attempts to teach him to swim. They turn to an abandoned, empty pool, with Ned insisting that the pool is only full in imagination. Kevin gradually warms to the idea, practicing the length of the empty basin, and for a moment the scene hints at a genuine, almost hopeful bond. Ned’s departure is sudden, and as he looks back, he sees Kevin on the diving board above the deep end, a stark image that unsettles him enough to intervene and pull the boy back from danger before he continues his solitary voyage.

Across the day, Ned’s charm dissolves into a series of failed connections. The neighborhood—polite, polished, and competitive—offers little real companionship, and Ned is increasingly aware that his self-constructed river may be eroding the boundaries between fantasy and reality. At another backyard gathering, the hostess Grace Biswanger [Louise Troy] calls him a “gate crasher,” a label that stings and exposes the delicate social code he’s trying to navigate. There, he encounters a vivacious young woman named Joan [Joan Rivers], who is intrigued by his audacity until his speech grows too grandiose and surreal. A friend escorts her away, leaving Ned splashing theatrically in the water and drawing more attention to his escalating eccentricity. The moment underscores a growing rift between the dream Ned pursues and the world around him.

Ned’s path then leads him to a former lover, Shirley Abbott [Janice Rule], a stage actress who speaks to him with the memory of their past affair. The warmth he recollects from their time together contrasts with Shirley’s own experience of being the other woman, and the tension between memory and present reality becomes painful. Ned, unable to reconcile the past with the present, ventures into the deep end of a pool, a symbolic retreat into danger and distance from those who once cared for him.

As the afternoon wanes, Ned’s wandering pushes him into a crowded public pool and a confrontational street-level scene. A gatekeeper’s disdain, and later the shopkeepers’ derision—“How do you like our water?”—pin down a brutal social critique: Ned is denounced not for his desires but for his ostentation, and for the way his life—his wife Lucinda, his daughters—appears to have spiraled beyond the reach of the suburban ideal. The tone shifts from playful exploration to humiliating exposure, leaving Ned to feel the chill of social judgment as the sky darkens.

Rain begins to fall, a sudden, otherworldly curtain that sweeps over the neighborhood and into Ned’s thoughts. In a pale, post-sunset downpour, he staggers home, his body weary and his spirit exhausted. The tennis court where his daughters were supposed to be playing shows its wear; the house stands deserted, its windows broken and the door stubbornly shut. Ned tries to force a way inside, his breath misting in the rain, and for a long, aching moment he stands in the doorway, a man who has chased a river of pools only to find the real home slipping away.

Throughout this long, uneasy day, the final image is not of triumph but of ache and abandonment, a quiet lament for what he hoped to return to and what has become of him in the chase. The pools that promised movement and belonging now seem to close in around him, and the rain-driven wind carries the hollow echo of a home that may no longer be there. In the end, the journey is less about reaching a physical destination than about the unraveling of a man’s illusion—and the stark reality that some waters are difficult, if not impossible, to swim back through.

Last Updated: October 09, 2025 at 10:44