#paranoia trilogy

[nastyphoenix]

Jane Fonda in “Klute” (1971) Dir. Alan J. Pakula

[vietgiorgio]

"You make a man think that he's accepted. It's all a great big game to you."

Klute (1971)

Director: Alan J. Pakula

Cinematography: Gordon Willis

[sloshed-cinema]

Klute (1971)

Movies like Barbarian or any of the Insidious flicks ought to up their fucking game.  The primal fear of descending into a dark, creepy basement ought to be the easiest thing in the world to convey.  But few films capture the fear of the dark with such visceral sensory specificity as Klute.  It really proved an all hands on deck effort.  DoP Gordon Willis works wonders in how he deprives the sequence where Klute chases down an elusive stalker he catches on Bree Daniels’ rooftop of light.  Flashlights create fear in their limited ability to reveal what danger lurks in the shadows, and editor Carl Lerner draws out the tension in lingering on shots, daring the viewer to anticipate if and when a flurry of action will break out.  Ambiguous images of darkened doorways and junkies and ladders call into question if Klute will even make it out unharmed.  This escalates from earlier scenes, Bree alone in her candlelit apartment, her end-of-day relaxation interrupted by strange sounds she can’t quite explain.  It starts out slow, small noises or instances which could just be purely incidental.  But keeping the shot locked down with Fonda small and vulnerable in frame allows the shadows to encroach, dangerous in this isolation.  This is exactly what it feels like when your familiar home suddenly seems threatening.

While it uses the seedy underbelly of New York as its backdrop, Klute is at no point interested in leaning on the “call-girl who finds the right man” arc.  Instead, it examines power dynamics and self-denial within this world.  Peter Cable embodies this on a more societal scale, fundamentally devaluing the lives and livelihoods of the women he hires, torturing them physically and psychologically while feeling wholly justified in his conquests.  He operates freely in a world of junkies and desperate individuals, one the world either turns a blind eye to or punishes.  But this landscape has a personal impact too.  We see Bree struggle with addiction and make choices perhaps not in her best interests.  But we also listen to her processing this with her therapist, trying to explain for herself why she makes the choices she does, self-destructive or not.  While Cable is a terrifying cipher up to the end, Daniels renders herself vulnerable in a positive way.  Jane Fonda is immaculate in the role, steely and vulnerable in turn, breaking down as she is played a recording of a former friend’s demise and giving her best Irish-ish accent when the story calls for it.  

Mr Goldfarb’s secretary is a true gift of a one-scene performance.  She truly does not give a shit, and any person who makes an entire outfit out of one kind of textile is certainly not to be trusted in any clothing-adjacent profession.  MR GOLDFAAAAARB!

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says ‘trick’, ‘John’, or ‘freak’.

Someone starts a tape recording.

Narcotics are mentioned.

A phone starts to ring.

BIG DRINK

Bree picks up a John.

Klute smiles.

Bree names a fetish.

Bree puts on an accent.

[vsthepomegranate]

Klute (1971)

by Alan J. Pakula

Polish poster

[petersonreviews]

Klute (1971)

“The movie would end up kickstarting the informal “Paranoia trilogy” of films directed by [Alan J.] Pakula, followed by The Parallax View and All the President’s Men. But Klute, in many regards, feels like the odd man out. We don’t remember The Parallax View or All the President’s Men for its characters. We remember them for their thrilling storylines and our emotional reactions to them. But with Klute, plot elements mean nothing. The individuals who occupy it make up the intrigue.”

http://bit.ly/2wcyrIY

[sloshed-cinema]

The Parallax View (1974)

Free filmmaking advice: don’t kick off your film by yeeting someone off the Space Needle.  For one thing, it’s probably a lot harder to pull off now with the new setup to the observation deck.  For another, how are you going to top that for sheer excitement?  Opening with a literal bang as a senator is assassinated while visiting Seattle, journalist and witness Joseph Frady becomes plunged into a dark world of conspiracy and secrecy.  Everyone present at the killing suddenly has a much shorter lifespan, and soon enough the mounting coincidences are too much for even him to handle.  Frady’s editor accuses him of being a two-bit reporter, but if nothing else he certainly has gumption and resolve.  To an extent, his investigation is detrimental to those around him—two witnesses are killed through his presence or inaction, and he offs at least one of those attempting to do the same to him.  But despite it all, he manages to make it to the heart of it all: the shadowy Parallax Corporation.  In some regards, he seems to be able to pull one over on these “human engineers.”  He passes both tests, one through guile and the other seemingly through his subliminal self.  He becomes close to his handler with Parallax, Jack Younger, and even manages to thwart an assassination attempt.  In some cases, he manages to pull of an act, behaving aggressively around Jack to seem antisocial.  But he’s still an impostor and an outsider in this world.  When Joseph stalks the Parallax assassin into the convention center where another doomed candidate will give a speech, we watch both characters ascend an escalator.  The assassin remains still, controlled and cool, an apex predator assured in his supremacy.  Joseph begins the ascent in a similar fashion, but even by halfway up he’s fidgeting and shifting, climbing steps when he could stand still.  How thoroughly did he really pull the wool over their eyes?  He may think he’s the sheep in wolf’s clothing, but he was still perfectly set up to play the patsy when another undesirable candidate bites the dust, caught in the rafters near a sniper rifle while the dead man careens ignominiously into a set of tables on his golf cart.

Yet despite the corporate dressing of the killings, this is a very political game being played.  Director Alan J Pakula makes an interesting and very intentional choice in directly brainwashing the audience through the Parallax screen test sequence.  After the lights fade on Frady in his chair, we the viewer are directly shown the same thing he sees, allowed to respond to it in whatever way we might.  The frenzy of images creates such paradoxes as to break the mind and draw out a rage response: Is America powerful or dying?  Is racism bad or good?  Are lovers sensual or depraved?  Is my father a protector or an abuser?  Is mother nurturing or feeble?  I am Thor, an Übermensch, and I am all that stands between good and evil to protect this country.  But at the same time, these images are elemental.  The film opens on a wonderful shot visually paralleling a First Nations totem pole with the Space Needle, suggesting we have always felt a compulsion to build monuments, no matter the culture.  And the images of presidents—Lincoln, Jefferson, Washington—are present in both the Parallax “orientation” video and the campy college card display at Sen Hammond’s rally.  These men are, among many other things, symbols, and symbols can be used in many ways, to many paradoxical ends.  We are all exposed to propaganda in some form.  Nobody is immune.  The film’s score knows this too, building a baseline of placidly reverential patriotic trumpets but inflecting this security with paranoiac stings.  Is the government aware of the cabal killing off select candidates?  In their Kafkaesque panel, the committee investigating these assures the public of their tireless efforts to uncover all evidence (available eventually, of course), but be certain that there are no conspiracies afoot.  There will be no questions.  Go back to your shiny cards and marching bands.  

THE RULES

SIP

A Parallax Corp pamphlet appears onscreen.

A conversation is shot through a glass door or window.

Someone is wearing sunglasses in a scene.

BIG DRINK

A piece of furniture in the Salmontail bar is broken.

Someone present at the opening assassination dies.

A shot is fired.

[petersonreviews]

Donald Sutherland and Jane Fonda in Klute, 1971

[alina-nguyen]

jane fonda in alan j pakula’s KLUTE