I struggle with these Dixieland adaptations. No matter how good the acting actually is, all the fake accents always seem so phony and exaggerated to me, and I find that they hurt the movie's overall legitimacy as a result.
That's certainly the case with The Long, Hot Summer (or, as I'll be referring to it from now on, the second best novel-inspired Southern melodrama from 1958 that stars Paul Newman and features the word Hot in its title), but I think my primary issue is that the plot doesn't really interest me. These characters and their interpersonal conflicts do have some potential, but everything's too bogged down by wearisome direction and sluggish narrative progression for any of it to keep me invested.
Still, I guess the movie's fairly well-shot, particularly in regards to the location work, and the heat is certainly palpable, through both the visual textures (this thing is sweaty) and the obvious chemistry between Newman and Woodward. It's not a total bore, but the bland story, forced theatrics, and unconvincing conclusion keep it from fully catching fire for me.
Grade: B-
P.S. Orson Welles is somehow both the best and worst part of this movie. His performance is frankly embarrassing, and not at all believable, but the energy immediately ratchets up a notch whenever he's on screen.
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