An ambitious reporter gets in way-over-his-head trouble while investigating a senator's assassination which leads to a vast conspiracy involving a multinational corporation behind every event in the world's headlines.
Alan J. Pakula
Los Angeles private investigator Harry Moseby is hired by a client to find her runaway teenage daughter. Moseby tracks the daughter down, only to stumble upon something much more intriguing and sinister.
Norman is a curmudgeon with an estranged relationship with his daughter Chelsea. At Golden Pond, he and his wife nevertheless agree to care for Billy, the son of Chelsea's new boyfriend, and a most unexpected relationship blooms.
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
When Donald Sutherland writes notes on the legal pad about who the killer might be, it is not his hand but a double who has veinless, pudgy, black haired hands. See more »
Look, will you please just try to get it from my side? A year ago I was in the life full time, I was living on Park Avenue. It was a very nice apartment, leather furniture... and then the cops dropped on me, they caged me. They started asking me about a guy, some guy, that I'm supposed to have seen a year before that. Two years ago! He could be in Yemen. Gruneman... what does that mean? It's a name! I don't know him! And they start showing me these pictures, and they don't mean anything to me. ...
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Some network TV versions omit six minutes' worth of footage, including a scene where Klute (Donald Sutherland) finds the clue that leads him to the murderer. See more »
This is without a doubt the most intensely atmospheric film I've ever seen, and certainly the best, tied perhaps only with Chinatown. Pakula's eye shows us the true grit and grime of the city that never sleeps. Klute was packaged as a suspense thriller, but it is so much more than that. It is also a character study (either of Bree herself, or the city itself). It is a love story. It is a study of urban stereotypes. And did I mention the music? The eerie scrapes, nervous marimba and fearsome humming will really creep you out, but the warm trumpets and delicate strings on the flipside are warm and enveloping. Anyway, back to the film. The slow scenes are equally crucial as the action scenes; the gorgeous sequence of Bree and John Klute shopping for oranges in the city market at night is a powerful statement that love can exist between opposites. Fonda's brilliantly improvised therapy scenes are explosive as they are heartrending. No actress, living or dead, can touch her. As the beautiful and confused Bree she is both vulnerable and in charge. The unraveling of her psyche is fascinating to watch, as is John Klute's repulsion and fascination with "the city folk". The final confrontation will disturb and haunt you for days. Bottom line, essential. No film will take you into its world quite like this one. They just don't make 'em like this anymore.
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