Klute

What is it about actresses playing hookers that makes the Academy Awards stand up, take notice and practically hand the damn thing out? Typically these women do very little trick turning and posses hearts of gold that transform then main character into a better man and he sweeps them happily out of their sordid lives. There are no real complications to speak of, and there’s no business dealing with pimps, gapping emotional wounds, psychological issues or anything complicated to speak of. Pretty Woman earns much of my ire for promoting this fallacy. Klute gives us a realistic portrayal of a hooker in Jane Fonda’s intelligent performance.

Klute tells the story of a detective (Donald Sutherland) who seeks out a top NYC call girl trying to make-good and become an actress (Fonda) to help him solve a cold case. She’s been through this once before with the police, and she doesn’t trust him. But she’s been getting disturbing phone calls and letters, she’s gotten into therapy to help cure her raging paranoia (amongst numerous other things), and, God help her, she kind of likes the guy. The thriller portion of the film isn’t the interesting aspect of the film, which would be the character study behind Bree Daniels. Don’t misunderstand, the thriller stuff is the glue that holds everything together, the thing that allows the plot to move forward and for our characters to grow and change. But it wavers between perfunctory and truly interesting. The landscape of junkies, cocaine-fueled pimps and partiers and damaged goods is truly engrossing. Sometimes the demimonde is just more intriguing than the ‘burbs.

Fonda’s performance is made up of rather strange but fascinating choices. She feeds her cat then licks the spoon – why? Well, this woman has dulled herself into not feeling. She has convinced herself that she is merely an actress waiting for her big break and that being a hooker was but a small time thing. So why can’t she stop doing it? It’s easy for her, it’s familiar and safe for her. She’s in control, and everyone involved must answer to her. Disturbing calm and professional she tells clients that certain acts and situation will cost more. In therapy confessionals she constantly blocks her chest with her arms, creating a kind of armor to protect herself from the questions and answers that are coming up. She’s intelligent, but most afraid of herself and her demons. This is a woman who is broken from within, a walking and talking emotional wound. Her journey is not reveal a heart of gold, but to relearn that she has a heart in the first place. This is a woman who must rediscover herself and her soul. Fonda is transcendent.