judsonkn

Judging by the comments here, apparently I'm not the only one who was incredibly moved by this masterpiece--a masterpiece of storytelling on Cheever's part, that is, and a more than passable film portrayal of what one might call "the perfect short story." If HBO had existed in the 1960s, and Rod Serling had written for it, this is what "Twilight Zone" might have looked like: a tangled, twisted terrain of the human psyche that leads to the deepest of our fears--and the most profound of our hopes. The stakes for Ned Merrill, as we come to discover, are about as high as they can be for any character not caught in a literal life and death struggle. But he might as well be, judging by the size and fearsomeness of the phantoms that haunt his way. For this reason I think I'd say that other than *Glengarry Glen Ross,* this is the most terrifying film ever made.

In contrast to many others, however, I don't think Ned is delusional: I think he's spent so long believing his own publicity, as it were, that he hasn't fully accepted what has happened to him. (And of course, "what has happened to him" is almost entirely of his own making, which makes his predicament all the more painful because it seems to offer no hope of redemption.) And he's clearly one of those hail-fellow-well-met types who, when he promises he's going to do something for someone--as he continually does in the movie, right up to the point where he promises to pay his bill to a local proprietor--he truly means it, at least in the moment.

Additionally, "The Swimmer" seems like far too profound a work to tie it to themes as dreary and shopworn as the emptiness of suburban life or the dark side of the American dream. Granted, a great deal of powerful literature, dating back at least to Nathanael West's *Day of the Locust*, has been written around the second of these ideas, but "The Swimmer" seems to speak to something much deeper, a haunted place in the human soul. In the ads for the movie--which, in sharp contrast to the brilliant development of the story itself, attempted to lay out all the details in a way at once pedantic and almost pandering (as previews in those days tended to be), a voice-over asks if the viewer might see Ned in him- or herself.

*The Swimmer* is an epic, but an unusual one. Not because of the small scale and the deceptively trivial-seeming stakes involved it the epic journey--that's an idea Joyce introduced years earlier in *Ulysses*--but because of that journey's destination. Ned isn't going toward a new land, but back--back to nothing short of Eden. And if it's an epic, then he's a hero of sorts, and not entirely an antihero either. After all, even with all the things you learn about him along the way, it's hard not to root for Ned Merrill.

I can't believe a lot of the complaints I see about this show here. I guess for some people, the idea of a show that's extremely witty and sexy, with an interesting set of characters about whom the perceptive viewer instantly cares a great deal, is just not enough. Maybe it doesn't fit with preconceived notions of the proper attitudes, but--in part for that very reason--*Barbershop* is the bomb!

After a long day of work, I sat down in front of the tube to find something relaxing and entertaining--something intelligent but not tedious, funny but never infantile. And then I found this, a show that manages to pull off the witty sex-talk that *Sex in the City* supposedly offered, even though to me *that* show always rang false. Whereas SitS seemed to try too hard, this one just flows effortlessly, with an effervescence that springs from strong writing and acting.

I've seen many shows that attempt to create a world like that of *Barbershop*, with its ensemble cast, its spiciness, its clever dialogue, its sardonic treatment of timely themes and its heartfelt approach to universal ones--and usually the result is a tired-looking mishmash designed (however inexpertly) to fool viewers into believing that they're watching something worthwhile. But this one actually achieves what so many others have failed to do. Maybe I'm supposed to be irritated or offended, but I'm too busy enjoying Omar Gooding (a fabulous actor who I loved in *Playmakers*), the great Phil Lamarr of *Mad TV* fame, and a number of other gifted performers.