Revisiting Summer of Sam – Spike Lee’s other… | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

Revis­it­ing Sum­mer of Sam – Spike Lee’s oth­er great heat­wave movie

03 Jul 2019

Words by Justine Smith

Two men, one wearing a Union Jack t-shirt and the other a brown vest, sit on the bonnet of a red sports car.
Two men, one wearing a Union Jack t-shirt and the other a brown vest, sit on the bonnet of a red sports car.
A ser­i­al killer and swel­ter­ing heat make for a lethal cock­tail in the director’s under­rat­ed 1999 film.

It’s the hottest sum­mer on record and a killer is on the loose. This is New York dur­ing the sum­mer of 1977, and a heat wave has descend­ed on the city like a thick cloud. It was a once in a life­time mete­o­ro­log­i­cal event that felt bib­li­cal; almost des­tined. As New York­ers drift­ed through the heav­i­ness of humid­i­ty, they were ter­rorised by a killer known as the Son of Sam who, using a .44 cal­i­bre Bull­dog revolver, mur­dered six peo­ple and injured sev­en more. On 3 July, 1999, Spike Lee released Sum­mer of Sam, a reflec­tion on that fate­ful summer.

The film fol­lows two young men from a pre­dom­i­nant­ly Ital­ian-Amer­i­can sec­tion of the Bronx. Vin­ny (John Leguizamo) is a ser­i­al adul­ter­er try­ing to save his mar­riage with Dion­na (Mira Sorvi­no) and Ritchie (Adrien Brody), a child­hood friend who has rein­vent­ed him­self as a punk. As events unfold over that long, hot, his­toric sum­mer, we watch as their lives inter­sect with death, irrev­o­ca­bly shap­ing their futures.

Lee is no stranger to heat. Ten years before Sum­mer of Sam he made Do the Right Thing, in which racial ten­sions rise as the mer­cury soars on the hottest day of the year. It was a break­through film that announced the young direc­tor as a major new voice in Amer­i­can cin­e­ma. Sum­mer of Sam deals with a lot of the same ideas, but unlike Do the Right Thing it strug­gled to find a crit­i­cal audi­ence. Reviews were mixed, many choos­ing to focus on the film’s cyn­i­cism and graph­ic por­tray­als of sex and violence.

What is imme­di­ate­ly strik­ing about Sum­mer of Sam is how its char­ac­ters are com­pelled towards self-destruc­tion. The Son of Sam has already killed by the time the film begins and ear­ly on Vin­ny has a brush with him; he’s in the back seat of his car with his wife’s cousin when he almost becomes a vic­tim of the spree killer. It’s a moment Vin­ny takes as a mes­sage from God to reform his adul­ter­ous ways. Yet in spite of this close call, it does very lit­tle to dis­suade him from going out at night and bring­ing his wife along with him.

A man and woman reading a newspaper with the headline "AA KILLER: I AM NOT ASLEEP" in a black and white film-noir style.

If a killer was on the loose, what would you do? In a city as big as New York, it seems unlike­ly that you would ever run into him – but what if the envi­ron­ment around you is suc­cumb­ing to grow­ing para­noia. Peo­ple know he tar­gets cou­ples in cars, espe­cial­ly young brunettes, so women play at dress-up. They put on blonde wigs and become some­one else. The women, rather than embody fear, seem to float on air, tak­ing plea­sure in the dis­place­ment of their real selves. It is as if their new hair­style not only pro­tects them against death but gives them per­mis­sion to indulge in their true desires.

This dual­i­ty becomes a source of plea­sure and con­flict. Vin­ny strug­gles with his fideli­ty because he can’t bring him­self to think of his wife as a sex­u­al being. To touch her the way he’d touch her cousin or one of his salon employ­ees would reduce her to a whore, an image he can­not abide. Rather than try to become inti­mate with her in order to over­come his sin, he works to repress all desire. Leguizamo gives a per­for­mance of pul­sat­ing nerves. Unde­ni­ably sex­u­al, he leans into macho­ism but feels uncom­fort­able in self-reflex­iv­i­ty. His aggres­sion is always threat­en­ing to explode, but there is so much ten­der­ness as well.

Rel­a­tive­ly sex­u­al­ly explic­it for a main­stream release, the film leans heav­i­ly into inti­ma­cy rather than gra­tu­itous­ness. Even flings feel raw, embod­ied with a cer­tain ani­mal­is­tic real­ness. In his rela­tion­ship with his wife though, Vin­ny can’t let go and expe­ri­ence real inti­ma­cy with­out ruin­ing the image he has of her in his mind. He is unable to be his true self, which leads him to ques­tion his iden­ti­ty entire­ly and vio­lence sparks in his need to reaf­firm his sense of self.

Two people, a man and a woman, interacting in a scene from a film or TV show. The man is wearing a white t-shirt with a graphic design and the woman appears to be styling his hair.

Ritchie, mean­while, becomes increas­ing­ly sex­u­al­ly lib­er­at­ed. In a film of dual­i­ties, if Dion­na is the vir­gin, Jen­nifer Esposito’s Ruby is the whore. When she shacks up with Ritchie, the pair become increas­ing­ly adven­tur­ous and find com­fort in their shared oth­er­ness. Ritchie’s new punk per­sona has alien­at­ed him from his clean cut, Catholic upbring­ing, and her rep­u­ta­tion as being easy” has sim­i­lar­ly cast her as dif­fer­ent. Both main­tain kind­ness and love, but their choic­es alien­ate them and put a tar­get on their backs amidst ris­ing ten­sions of humid­i­ty and the Son of Sam’s con­tin­ued rampage.

In spite of his own sins, Vin­ny becomes increas­ing­ly aggressed by his sex­u­al frus­tra­tion and Ritchie’s appar­ent lib­er­a­tion; so does the rest of the neigh­bour­hood. This is where the film’s cyn­i­cism digs deep. As the char­ac­ters begin to mir­ror the aggres­sive pat­terns of the killer at large, they fol­low the lines of their own bias. In ask­ing women to wear wigs, stay indoors and be good”, they are try­ing to con­trol the uncon­trol­lable. When they say Ritchie pur­pose­ful­ly turn his back on those ideals, they resent his free­dom and chan­nel their repressed rage towards him. The film’s star­tling finale, in the after­math of the David Berkowitz’s arrest as the Son of Sam, is a har­row­ing exam­ple of mob men­tal­i­ty jus­tice. One that not only works to rein­force the sta­tus quo but vio­lent­ly exem­pli­fies the demons of repres­sion and hate.

How can you not be cyn­i­cal in a soci­ety that is so unfair? For all the attempts to con­trol safe­ty and com­fort, the world doesn’t offer much con­so­la­tion. The sys­tems in place – be it reli­gion, the jus­tice sys­tem or democ­ra­cy – are often the sources of deep anguish and suf­fer­ing. Char­ac­ters reach­ing for oppor­tu­ni­ties they can’t get at col­lec­tive­ly trau­ma­tised not only by the Son of Sam but by soci­ety itself. In a sense, this is Lee’s obses­sion: lega­cies of trau­ma passed down. Even if the sta­tus quo is often weaponised against the cit­i­zen­ry, for most, it is worth uphold­ing as a way to main­tain some sem­blance of self often through vio­lence and self-annihilation.

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