T.R. Baskin

I saw this film when it first came out and was deeply moved because I identified with T.R. - I lived her story when I first left home, including making big mistakes about recognizing when I was merely being used by men I thought really liked me, and the awful places you end up living because you make barely a living wage, and the loneliness - all of it. Every thematic scene in this film could be my own life, with only the details changed. I've never seen another film that comes even close to capturing this experience.

Today when I was trying to find this film, I was shocked to discover how badly it was rated by critics at the time. I'm glad to see that people here respect the film and that most rate it very highly.

I'm going off now to see if I can get somewhere. A classic.

This film is in some ways a guilty pleasure--it's occasionally hokey--but I like it because it reminds me of the wonder I felt on my first few visits to Chicago (I'm a small-town girl too). I eventually moved there, staying more than a decade

before moving on to L.A.; my experience was, on the whole, much more positive than T.R.'s, but I can relate to her and to what she's going through. That's a good deal of this movie's appeal--the characters and the situations all have the ring of truth. Kudos to writer Peter Hyams and director Herbert Ross. T.R. may be lonely and lacking in direction, but she's also intelligent, feisty, and nobody's fool, and it's easy to understand how she feels as she tries to build an independent life and find personal and professional satisfaction. Candice Bergen's delivery of her lines is sometimes a bit stilted, but her performance is largely praiseworthy; so are those of the supporting cast, especially Marcia Rodd, James Caan, Peter Boyle, and Howard Platt (very convincing as a real jerk). The filmmakers also make good use of the Chicago setting, with shots of Carson's State Street store, the el, and other landmarks, and the movie's full of early-'70s atmosphere--the clothes, the music, the singles bars, and the fact that the modern women's

movement had a lot of work to do.

Having watched director Herbert Ross's "T. R. Baskin" twice now, I still have no idea why the filmmaker was drawn to the material or why Paramount gave it the green light. Written by the otherwise-astute Peter Hyams, our titular heroine is rather the antithesis of TV's Mary Richards: she's not about to turn the world on with her smile. An escapee from a small town in Ohio, T. R. arrives in Chicago and is immediately taken advantage of by her cab driver from the airport (but nothing is built upon this--it's just shrugged off). She finds a boring job and a boring apartment, she goes out on a boring blind date--the only thing missing is a boring cat. Played by Candice Bergen, T. R. Baskin isn't pithy or wise: she's deadpan nearly throughout. I assume Hyams meant her cynicism to be blunt and amusing, but Ross doesn't ask Bergen to deliver anything more than a sketch of the character (we get nothing about her background save for a phone call home to mom). The film's framing device is deadly: an ex-Army man (a young James Caan), who insulted T. R. after a roll in the hay, sets up her with a married man in Chicago on business. This plot device makes absolutely no sense, and Ross skitters over it, perhaps shamefacedly. Fortunately, the married man is played Peter Boyle, and he emerges as the star of the picture. With his pearly-pink skin, shy smile and alert eyes, it's obvious the movie should have centered on Boyle's would-be philanderer rather than on Bergen's squinting/suspicious working girl. T. R. Is disappointed by life; she finds the Windy City an alienating place, she's in danger of being swallowed up by the anonymity of city living, but will she fight her predicament or simply surrender to it? We don't know because Ross and Hyams want to keep T. R. a floating question-mark. Had T. R. been a tough little nut, we might have had something to respond to; instead, she only comes to life with a case of the giggles in bed, and even then we don't really know why she's laughing. ** from ****

. . . to get this movie released on DVD? I too am among those who saw it on television years ago and who remember bits and pieces of the dialog (like, to paraphrase, "It's like admiring someone from a distance and when you get up close to him you notice he has bad skin." If I recall correctly Candace Bergman speaks this line while looking down on Michigan Avenue from a high-rise apartment, perhaps in the John Hancock building, and it served as a metaphor for what she found out about life in the big city). Its soundtrack was also liable to turn up frequently in the 98 cent bargain bins and this is how I happened to recognize it when it showed up on the CBS late movie in the late 1970s. The Chicago location was unusual for a 1971 film -- well before pictures like "The Blues Brothers," "Ordinary People," and "Risky Business." Candace Bergman's performance, and way of delivering lines, was indeed mesmerizing, and this film's unavailability and obscurity makes unavailable and obscure a certain moment in 20th century American history that we don't think too much about; it is rather like the dark side of the Mary Tyler Moore show, a snapshot of a lost generation. Please, someone bring it back.

I caught this movie one Sunday afternoon on TV at least 15 years ago and never forgot it (and have not been able to find it). I have searched for it on e-bay, amazon, here -- and can't find it.

Candace Bergen gives an amazing performance as a young woman starting her life alone. I would love to see it again ... as I recall, the scenes are very 70s and may look dated, but the story is timeless.

As I recall, it had shades of "Looking for Mr. Goodbar," but not as dark. I would say the movie has a sardonic feeling. Candace Bergen's character, T.R. Baskin, is smart, cynical and searching for her place in the world.