KLUTE (Pakula, 1971) - Kind of a schizophrenic film, this, part (kinda really hot) romance, part creepy thriller, the latter part making it an unwise choice for an evening home alone (oops). Fonda’s great, and Sutherland might be, too - I’m not sure yet if his blankness is an inspired choice or a handicap. The shrink sessions could have been corny and overexplicit, but I actually enjoyed them quite a bit: they flesh out Bree’s character, without ever making her issues seen trivial or banal. In fact, you sometimes wonder why the film’s called KLUTE and not BREE. I also wonder about the decision to let the audience know the identity of the killer before Sutherland finds out - it amps the tension, sure, but it feels so COLUMBO. The best thing about the movie is that nobody (or nothing) is dumbed down, and that it’s also assumed that the viewer has a modicum of intelligence. It’s only by seeing a film like this every once in a while that you realize just how condescending many modern movies are.
Posted on Thursday, 29 September 2011