Television moves fast. It’s a medium built for the disposable, the trendy, and the safe. But back in 1972, a made-for-TV movie called That Certain Summer did something that felt almost impossible for the era. It told the truth. Not a sensationalized, tabloid version of the truth, but a quiet, painful, and deeply human one.
Hal Holbrook plays Doug Salter. He’s a divorced father. He’s successful. He’s also gay. When his son Nick, played by a young Scott Jacoby, comes to visit for the summer, the facade starts to crack. It wasn't just a movie. It was a cultural earthquake that most people have forgotten about today.
Why That Certain Summer Broke the Rules
Before 1972, if you saw a gay character on screen, they were usually one of three things: a villain, a victim, or a punchline. They were the "sissy" trope or the predatory stranger in the shadows. That Certain Summer threw all of that in the trash.
Writer-producers Richard Levinson and William Link—the same guys who gave us Columbo—didn't want a "problem of the week" story. They wanted a character study. They cast Martin Sheen as Gary McClain, Doug’s partner. Think about that for a second. In the early 70s, at the height of his leading-man potential, Martin Sheen took a role as a gay man. That was a career-killing move for most actors.
The brilliance of the script is in its restraint. There are no grand speeches. No one gets murdered. There’s no "cure." It’s just two men trying to figure out how to live their lives while a confused teenager watches from the sidelines.
Honestly, the pacing is slow by today's standards. It’s deliberate. You feel the heat of the San Francisco summer and the stifling awkwardness of the dinner table.
The Network Fight
ABC was terrified. You have to remember the context of the time. The Stonewall riots had only happened three years prior. The American Psychiatric Association still classified homosexuality as a mental disorder (it wouldn't change that until 1973).
The censors at the network had a meltdown. They demanded that the movie include a "balanced" viewpoint. Basically, they wanted a doctor or a psychiatrist to show up on screen and say that being gay was a sickness. Levinson and Link fought back. They refused to pathologize the characters.
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The compromise? It’s a bit of a heartbreaker. At the end of the film, Doug tells his son, "If I had a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this for myself." To a modern audience, that feels like a betrayal. It feels like he’s apologizing for who he is. But in 1972? That was the only way the movie stayed on the air. It was a tactical retreat that allowed the rest of the film’s humanity to remain intact.
The Performance That Anchored a Movement
Hal Holbrook is incredible here. He doesn't play Doug as a "gay man" in the way Hollywood expected—there’s no camp, no stereotypical mannerisms. He’s just a guy who is tired of lying.
There’s this one scene. You’ve got to see it. It’s when Nick finally figures out the truth after seeing his father and Gary together. The confrontation isn't explosive. It’s filled with this heavy, suffocating disappointment. Scott Jacoby won an Emmy for this performance, and you can see why. He captures that specific brand of teenage betrayal when you realize your parents are actual people with lives you don't understand.
Martin Sheen is the secret weapon, though. He plays Gary with such warmth. He’s the one who has to be the "other man" in a family dynamic that doesn't have a place for him. He’s patient, but he’s also clearly hurting.
What People Get Wrong About the Reception
A lot of film historians claim the movie was a universal hit. That’s not quite right. It was a ratings success, sure, but the reaction was messy.
Gay rights activists at the time were actually split on it. Some praised it for finally showing a gay man with a job and a house and a soul. Others hated the ending. They felt the "I wouldn't have chosen this" line was a slap in the face.
On the other side, conservative groups were livid. They saw it as "pro-homosexual propaganda." It was one of the first times we saw the modern "culture war" play out on the small screen.
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Technical Craftsmanship in a "Cheap" Medium
We tend to look down on TV movies. We think of them as grainy, poorly lit, and rushed. That Certain Summer looks like a feature film.
The cinematography by Pascual De Silva uses the San Francisco fog as a metaphor. Creative? Maybe a little on the nose, but it works. The city feels vast and lonely.
- The use of natural light in the apartment scenes creates a sense of intimacy.
- Long takes allow the actors to actually act instead of relying on quick cuts.
- The score is minimal. It lets the silence do the heavy lifting.
Most TV shows today are over-produced. They have a soundtrack that tells you exactly how to feel every five seconds. This movie trusts you to feel it on your own. It's refreshing.
The Long Shadow of That Certain Summer
You don't get Brokeback Mountain without That Certain Summer. You don't get the nuanced portrayals in shows like Fellow Travelers or Looking without this 1972 TV movie paving the way.
It proved that an audience would sit through a story about gay people that wasn't a tragedy or a farce. It humanized a group of people who were, at the time, largely invisible to the American middle class.
But it’s also a time capsule. It shows us how far we’ve come and, in some ways, how the same arguments keep happening. The fear of "protecting the children" from the truth is a theme that resonates just as loudly today as it did fifty years ago.
How to Revisit the Film Today
If you’re looking to watch it, it can be tricky. It isn't always on the major streaming platforms like Netflix or Max. You often have to dig through YouTube archives or find a physical DVD copy. It’s worth the hunt.
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When you do watch it, keep these things in mind:
Look for the subtext. Because of the era’s censorship, a lot is said through glances and what isn't spoken. The physical distance between Holbrook and Sheen in their shared home says everything about the internalised pressure they're feeling.
Research the creators. Levinson and Link were masters of the genre. They understood that the best way to change someone’s mind wasn't to shout at them, but to invite them into a room with characters they liked.
Compare it to 1970's The Boys in the Band. That was the other "big" gay film of the era. The Boys in the Band is loud, theatrical, and often self-loathing. That Certain Summer is its quiet, suburban cousin. Both are important, but they represent two very different ways of existing in the world.
The Realistic Legacy
The movie didn't "fix" anything overnight. It was just a step. But sometimes, a single step on a Tuesday night in November is what starts the journey.
It’s easy to be cynical about old media. We like to think we’re so much more evolved now. But there is a bravery in this film that is still rare. It’s the bravery of being small. Of being honest. Of saying, "This is my life, and it’s complicated, and I don't have all the answers."
Actionable Steps for Film Buffs and Historians:
- Track down the DVD: Since streaming rights are a mess for 70s TV movies, check your local library or specialty retailers. The quality jump from a blurry YouTube upload to a restored version is massive.
- Read the original reviews: Search the New York Times archives from late 1972. Seeing how critics struggled to even find the vocabulary to talk about the film is a masterclass in social history.
- Watch it with a younger generation: See if the "I wouldn't have chosen this" line sparks a conversation. It's a perfect litmus test for how much our cultural perspective on identity has shifted over the decades.
- Support archival projects: Organizations like the UCLA Film & Television Archive work to preserve these specific types of made-for-TV movies that are at risk of being lost to magnetic tape rot.
The story of Doug and Nick isn't just about a summer in San Francisco. It’s about the moment the closet door was pushed open just a few inches, and the light finally started to get in.