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Title: Klute (1971)
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| Cast overview, first billed only: | |||
| Jane Fonda | ... | Bree Daniels | |
| Donald Sutherland | ... | John Klute | |
| Charles Cioffi | ... | Peter Cable | |
| Roy Scheider | ... | Frank Ligourin | |
| Dorothy Tristan | ... | Arlyn Page | |
| Rita Gam | ... | Trina Gruneman | |
| Nathan George | ... | Trask | |
| Vivian Nathan | ... | Psychiatrist | |
 |
Morris Strassberg | ... | Mr. Goldfarb |
|
|
Barry Snider | ... | Berger |
|
|
Betty Murray | ... | Holly Gruneman |
| Jane White | ... | Janie Dale | |
| Shirley Stoler | ... | Momma Reese | |
|
|
Robert Milli | ... | Tom Gruneman |
| Anthony Holland | ... | Actor's Agent | |
Six months after the disappearance of Tuscarora, PA businessman Tom Gruneman, his boss, Peter Cable, and his wife, Holly Gruneman, hire Tom's friend, private detective John Klute to find out what happened to Tom, as the police have been unable to do so, and despite John having no expertise in missing persons cases. The only lead is a typewritten obscene letter Tom purportedly wrote to Manhattan actress/model/call girl Bree Daniel, who admits to having received such letters from someone, and since having received several mysterious telephone calls as well. The suggestion/belief is that Tom was one of Bree's past johns, although she has no recollection of him when shown his photograph. Bree's tricking is both a compulsion and a financial need. In their initial encounters, John and Bree do whatever they can to exert their psychological dominance over the other, especially as Bree initially refused to even speak to him. Despite their less than friendly start, they embark on a personal ... Written by Huggo
Permeated by a kind of haughty, stoned decadence, Alan J. Pakula's "Klute" concerns a sexy, shaggy prostitute in N.Y.C. who is the only real link to a missing family man from suburbia; a close friend of the man asserts himself as detective on the case, and after questioning the girl and trailing her, he finds himself drawn to her. Billed as a mystery-thriller, "Klute" is more of a dramatic character study, with preconceived plot threads devised by two screenwriters who can barely keep their secrets from spilling out. The final moments which piece the story together don't ring true (starting about the time Jane Fonda attacks Donald Sutherland and runs out into the street), but until then it's a dandy show-piece for Fonda, who gives an Oscar-winning performance. The ins-and-outs of the hooker-biz aren't really explored, but we get all we need just by listening to Fonda's dialogue (her complaints to her psychiatrist, her need for Sutherland's companionship) and by seeing her living alone in her apartment. For the actress, it's stellar work; for director Pakula, it's a bit thin around the edges. ***1/2 from ****