Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams

Rita, the "snow queen" is another of Joanne Woodward's aging spinster virgin frumps, that she seemed to specialise in the early 1970's. Depressed and discontent, her mental state is symbolised by the nightmare plane crash that director Gilbert Cates opens the film with. Writer Stewart Stern - who also wrote Rachel, Rachel - loads on the psycho-baggage. She has a demanding mother (Sylvia Sydney), a fat daughter (Doris Brenner), a gay son, and has married a man she did not love (Martin Balsam). All this would be unbearable with anyone but Woodward playing the role since she lightens it with her natural intelligence and sly sense of humour. It's amusing to see Balsam and Woodward argue in their middle-class educated way, though Rita's wearing a mink clues you that she isn't about to scream abuse. Balsam's subtlety, in particular makes you regret his few screen appearances. The only character that isn't redeemed by the acting is that of the gay son, since he is a cypher, and Cates presents his coming out in a homophobic black-and-white expressionistic sequence. Cates is fond of these kind of theatrical flourishes. There is a death at a screening of Wild Strawberries, a spirited chase at a former European battlefield, a family bickering at a graveyard, and Rita has a breakdown in a crowded London subway, which is probably the most believable of them all. Johnny Mandel provides a lovely theme, in his understated way, and then embarasses himself with trumpets in the battlefield sequence.

Joanne Woodward earned every bit of that Oscar nomination she received for this movie. Her performance is believable and moving. This is acting at its best (another performance I find amazing is Joanne Woodward as a victem of Multiple Personality Disorder in "The Three Faces Of Eve"- be sure to see that). Woodward never lets you down. I really liked this film because it was so real. You could really believe this was happening. But the title, "Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams" really has nothing to do with it, atleast nothing that I noticed. This is a must-see movie if you're looking for some good acting!

In wintry New York City, attractive middle-aged Joanne Woodward (as Rita) awakens from nightmare. After battling insomnia, Ms. Woodward arranges to meet nicotine-stained mother Sylvia Sidney for lunch. The bickering mother and daughter suggest complaining may be an inherited trait. Woodward fears she's going blind, but husband Martin Balsam (as Harry Walden), conveniently an eye doctor, discovers his wife needs reading glasses. Keeping herself busy, Woodward babysits a crying grandson and sees a revival of Ingmar Bergman's "Wild Strawberries" with Ms. Sidney. During black-and-white movies, Woodward dreams in black-and-white. An unhappy event forces Woodward to reexamine her life. To help, Mr. Balsam takes his wife on a European trip...

"Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams" is a dreary story about an unlikable woman. Masterpieces may fit that description, but this isn't one of them...

The characters and story are rich, but undeveloped. The camera follows when it should lead and a few edits appear to favor scenery at the expense of characters. Most pointedly, Woodward's whimpering epiphany is inadequate. She never gets to let her hair down. Still, it's a good film. The acting is universally excellent. Woodward and Sidney won major acting awards. Balsam is just as good. Writer Stewart Stern does best with a secondary story involving Balsam's character, a World War II veteran. Self-identified "fat" daughter Dori Brenner (as Anna) and her aunt Tresa Hughes (as Betty) are brief, but memorable. Director Gilbert Cates artfully introduces Woodward's estranged son Ron Richards (as Bobby) in the opening nightmare, then, he is regulated to dreams.

****** Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams (10/21/1973) Gilbert Cates ~ Joanne Woodward, Martin Balsam, Sylvia Sidney, Dori Brenner

By the early 1970's, films had become more personal and character studies were emerging on the screen. Such is the case with "Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams." At first glance, the film seems to be about Rita (Joanne Woodward) coping with the sudden and awful death of her mother (the wonderful Sylvia Sidney). The film then shifts to the apparently empty marriage between Rita and her husband Harry (Martin Balsam). They travel to Europe, where emotions and past resentments come to the foreground. Rita has much guilt about her son, who apparently wants nothing to do with her or Harry - we find out he is gay, but never the exact reasons why he can't stand either of them! (The son is seen only in flashbacks). Harry has a very emotional reaction while visiting Bastogne, where he fought in WWII. Rita has a breakdown in a London subway tunnel, apparently imaging she has seen her dead mother. Harry and Rita's daughter seems to have no purpose in the film except to be sanctimonious and shrill. This is not a perfect film, and at times the script jumps around. There are a few things that don't quite jive. There seems to be a lot of Freudian type psycho babble in the film (which was popular at the time). But it is the fine performance of Joanne Woodward that shines here. Ms. Woodward is one of the best actresses ever to grace the American cinema. Martin Balsam is in fine form here too. A quiet little film worth watching.

Uptight, possibly frigid, panic-stricken middle-aged New York housewife has to learn to let go of the past, a refuge which doesn't necessarily bring her happiness but does provide her life with some kind of stability. Joanne Woodward gives a good performance here; not at all vain, and unafraid to let herself be pinchy, selfish, or even annoyingly helpless, Woodward overcomes this rather dreary "woman's picture" material with thoughtful touches and nuances. It's a heavy load however, and she doesn't have much help until the final reel when her needling, provoking matron takes a European trip with her husband (Martin Balsam, also doing fine work) and she comes to see her humanity as something she can work with as opposed to frittering it away. Screenwriter Stewart Stern's dialogue is heavy with a writer's pretensions, and often the chit-chat is pedantic, forced and unreal. Near the beginning, Woodward gets a phone call from her mother and asks, "Who is this?" A few scenes later, Woodward becomes exasperated with her husband and asks, "How many years have we been married?" These moldy exchanges are lazy outs for a writer wanting to introduce us to the characters; instead of letting us discover these people and their hang-ups for ourselves, everything is spelled out (and poorly so). We are to understand that Joanne's estranged son is gay after she has a dream in which a male dancer is caught in the boy's bedroom--in ballet tights! The 'colorless' color cinematography is a mix of putrid browns and greens, and director Gilbert Cates begins each new sequence with a big wind-up, as if the movie were starting all over again. The rhythm is off, and with lines like "You approach every new relationship like you would a toll-booth, Mrs. Santa Claus!", one doesn't know how to respond to the characters. It's possible that some of Woodward's jaunts to her past, both real and imaginary, will strike some viewers as very personal, but the film isn't especially moving, at least not until the final third. **1/2 from ****