The Summer House is about a moment in a young girl's life. A turning point, a time for decision: to go back, or go forward?Jane (17) is in rural France visiting her aunt Priscilla during the hot summer of 1969, the year of the Moon landings. Also staying at this beautiful 19th century chateau, a sleeping beauty of a house, are her aunt’s old flame Freddie Porteous, a charming Englishman, and his wife Marie Pierre, a French woman of great sophistication and beauty.
Jane has left behind an unfaithful first love. Several letters have pursued her, letters decorated with hearts to tempt her. The author of these letters, Richard (18), turns up uninvited. Jane is unaware that her situation is provoking tensions among the older generation, she catches whispers of unspoken somethings at the heart of Freddie and Priscilla's relationship and she finds Marie Pierre’s allure and passion unsettling.
Jane looks to her role models for advice but Priscilla, Freddie and Marie Pierre have become wrapped up in their own giddy feelings about what it was like to be 17 and in love. At a party to celebrate the moon landings Jane is transformed by Marie Pierre from English mouse to sophisticated woman. Wanting to impress and suspecting Richard might be at the party she holds her head high.
Dizzy from dancing and emboldened by champagne Jane ventures out to the Summer House. Curiosity has got the better of her. Is there a dalliance between her sensible aunt and charismatic Freddie? Instead she is confronted a repentant Richard. He wants her back. She is impossibly tempted, but repelled by his crude attempt to force her.
The romantic ideal of young love becomes crushed by his rough desire and by the giggling arrival of Priscilla and Freddie. Jane is forced to face the disappointment of reality. Troubled by Richard’s motivation and by the apparent immaturity of Priscilla & Freddie, she burns the unopened letters and drops them into a deep well. Her world has changed, expanded; a more complex fairy tale is emerging…
Have you ever read Roger Ebert's blog? You may have read his film reviews before -- his review are some of the only ones the boyf and I trust when it comes to finding out if a new movie is worthy of our time (and money!) or not.After several years of researching disgust, University of Virginia professor Jonathan Haidt and others studied its opposite, and the term "elevation" was coined. Elevation is a moral emotion and is pleasant. It involves a desire to act morally and do "good"; as an emotion it has a basis in biology, and can sometimes be characterized by a feeling of expansion in the chest or a tingling feeling on the skin. Haidt performed tests on subjects viewing a speech given by Barack Obama and found the politician particularly adept in inspiring this emotion in his listeners.[11]
I've been saying for years that I never cry during sad moments in the movies, only during moments about goodness. At the end of "Terms of Endearment," I didn't cry because of Debra Winger's death, but because of how she said goodbye to her sons. Now I've have discovered a scientific explanation for why I feel the way that I do, and there is even a name for my specific emotion. I wasn't seeking an explanation, and I'm not sure I really wanted one.
And, for that matter, I don't really cry, at least not in the wiping-my-eyes and blowing-my-nose fashion. What I experience is the welling up of a few tears in my eyes, a certain tightness in my throat, and a feeling of uplift: Yes, there is a good person, doing a good thing. And when the movie is over, I don't want to talk with anyone. After such movies I notice that many audience members remain in a kind of reverie. Those who break the spell by feeling compelled to say something don't have an emotional clue.
