Review: Summerfield


Review: Summerfield


Nick Tate is a replacement schoolteacher (the previous one has mysteriously vanished) in a remote coastal community that gives off slightly sinister vibes, and no one in town seems especially welcoming, neither children nor adult (Charles ‘Bud’ Tingwell is the one exception, as the genial town doctor). Tate becomes involved in the life of young Michelle Jarman, who lives in a gated community with her overprotective mother Elizabeth Alexander, and her moody uncle John Waters, who in turn seems fiercely protective of his sister. Tate begins to feel that someone in this close-knit family is tied into his predecessor’s disappearance. But who, and how? And why? Geraldine Turner plays Tate’s buxom, sex-starved landlady, with Max Cullen her surly husband.


Exceptionally weird, unsatisfying 1977 Ken Hannam (“Sunday Too Far Away”) drama-mystery has a glacial pace but at least gives us some intrigue early on as we try and work out just where on Earth it’s all going. It’s all barmy as hell early on, but dull, and once it all starts to unravel, it takes a shockingly sharp nose-dive into sheer absurdity and unpleasantness in the second half. The film chooses the least plausible, least compelling, and most repugnant solution to the mystery you can possibly imagine. The film’s punchline, therefore, doesn’t resonate anywhere near as much as it should. Meanwhile, the talented Waters is sadly cast to his great disadvantage in a gloomy role.


It’s best described as “Picnic at Hanging Rock” mixed with “The Wicker Man”, only really, really badly done. Controversial in its day for reasons unclear to me, though the cast and crew are still divided on its merits (Director Hannam distanced himself from it at the time, whilst Waters thinks it holds up well). The best I can say for it is that a young (er) Geraldine Turner is surprisingly sexy (she used to be almost kinda hot back in the 70s!) and unlike “Picnic at Hanging Rock” (from this film’s producer, I might add), we at least get an answer to the damn mystery. I’ll give it that much.


Sorry, but even Bud Tingwell’s sturdy, reassuring presence can’t save this odd little failure. The screenplay is by Cliff Green, who of course wrote the overrated “Picnic at Hanging Rock”. Beautiful cinematography by Mike Molloy (“The Shout”, “The Human Factor”) is the film’s best asset.

Rating: C-

Comments

  1. I think your review is hard on the movie, which is not all that bad and its coldness could be deliberate. There are flaws, some takes are too obvious, but overall the cinematography is good, the running scene on Summerfield is amazing, with the slightly discordant musical score by Bruce Smeaton which is absolutely beautiful. The last *minute* gives the movie all its sense. The only person who really suffers in it is poor Nick Tate whose costumes are all two sizes too small. Huh, the 70's...

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  2. Yay, my first comment. That was sad, wasn't it?

    Thanks for reading and commenting, I totally agree on Tate's clothes, and yes the coldness could be deliberate, but it's also not terribly appreciated by me. I just never became involved after it lost me somewhere in the middle, and I think the mystery really could've been better.

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