Inevitably, there are spoilers here, but I’ve tried to keep them to a minimum. Thanks!
What is it? Klute, directed by Alan J. Pakula, written by Andy & Dave Lewis, and starring Jane Fonda, Donald Sutherland, and Charles Cioffi.
First viewing? No; last viewing September 29, 2019.
What’s it about? Tom Gruneman, a businessman from Pennsylvania, goes missing. Peter Cable (Charles Cioffi) hires private investigator John Klute (Donald Sutherland) to find him. He tracks him to New York, and there, he questions one of the last people to see Tom, a sex worker named Bree Daniel (Jane Fonda). Bree appears to be in danger: someone is following her and leaving threatening phone calls. Is it Tom? If not, then who?
What are your thoughts about it? Klute is one of the stone cold classics of ’70s cinema, an incredibly detailed and sensitive portrait of a sex worker that just happens to be wrapped in a paranoid thriller. There are definitely thrills to be had — the “skylight peeper” sequence is a masterpiece of slow-building tension, and the climax, where the killer confronts Bree in a garment factory, is terrifying. (And with the childlike “la la la” chanting during the stalking scenes, and the birdcage-style elevator in the factory, no way in hell Dario Argento wasn’t thinking of this when he made Deep Red.)
Klute is a quiet and subtle movie, in a way that’s out of fashion these days, at least in major studio productions. It’s very easy to let the film glide over you, and miss important details, especially on the first viewing. This last time, I noticed that, after Bree is shown a series of photographs of dead prostitutes (in order to identify a missing friend), each with a “NYC Police” placard on their bodies, she sees her mugshot in Klute’s room, the same placard on her chest.
But, ultimately, thrills are not the raison d’etre here. The psychology of the characters is paramount, and if you’re not paying attention, their actions can seem mysterious or unreasonable. (Let me be clear: I’m talking about myself, when I first saw the film for a college class back in 1990.) But it’s all there. Bree pays her own way through life, and she does so in a way that allows her control of her world. But in order to do that, she has to act out a series of selves, the ones her clients want; allowing her clients to know the real her could prove traumatizing. But by this time, she’s put walls around her real self that are so tall even she can’t see over them. When Bree, trying to transition to being a “real” actress, sees a theatrical agent, they have this exchange:
“You think you know yourself?”
“As much as anybody, I guess?”
“Do you really know yourself?”
“No…”
“It’s very important.”
“I forget myself when I act.”
“No, no, you can’t forget yourself, you can’t. You have to know yourself and kind of like yourself. You have to relate. Relate to people.”
Bree’s lived so long with those walls around her she can’t get through them or see through them. She can’t see Klute for what he is — at first she sees a cop, then a “square,” then someone she can sleep with in order to reveal his hypocrisy. It isn’t until later that she begins to understand Klute as mostly a fundamentally decent person. (My cinephile friends would blanch at the comparison, but Klute and Bree’s personalities and relationship remind me of Captain America and Black Widow. Don’t tell them I said that.) When there’s a serial murderer on the loose, trusting Klute becomes imperative, and she almost can’t do it. In a moment when Klute’s decency demands violence, he physically assaults Frank the pimp (Roy Scheider), knowing how poisonous he is and that if he takes Bree away, that’s it for her. Bree responds to this act of kindness by stabbing Klute with scissors.
If that’s all that Klute was, it’d be a great movie. What makes the movie sing is that Bree’s conundrum — her metaphorical inability to see — is spread out to the other characters. New York is presented as a place of perpetual mental fog. (And with Peter Cable’s skyscraper meeting room, with clouds so thick the windows appear to be fluorescent lights, the fog is physical as well.) Tom Gruneman is presumed to be a violent sex maniac. Frank presents himself as a bon vivant photographer, which everyone accepts but Klute. Side characters dismiss Bree’s friend and fellow sex worker Arlyn, and her boyfriend, as junkies; we, as well as Bree and Klute, can see them as people in deep pain. The killer (whom I’m not naming but isn’t hard to figure out), having taped one of Bree’s “performances,” confuses it for Bree herself. The killer is a warped mirror of Bree; he can’t see his true self, and blames her for “releasing something inside of him” instead of understanding that he’s just fucked up. (Klute sees through a lot of this, being an outsider, but even he can’t see the evil that’s right in front of him.)
How many stars out of five? The Full Five, up from four and a half.
Where can I find it? As of this writing1, you can stream it from The Criterion Channel, or rent or buy it from Amazon, YouTube, Apple, Microsoft, Google Play, DirecTV, and Vudu.
What can we take from it? After two entries of dangerous creatures to fight, it’s time to branch out with something completely different. The question I proposed to myself was, “If I wanted to play Klute and/or Bree in the Cypher System, what would I want to add to make that feasible?” This is a question no one has asked, ever. Nevertheless, I’ll give it the ol’ college try.
I’ve gone with two new descriptors, one for Klute, one for Bree, as well as a new arc based on Bree’s journey in the film. The first one, Decent, is basically a rewrite of Kind. Why not use Kind, then? For one thing, the differences between the two adjectives are perhaps subtle, but real. “Kind,” to my mind, is active, while “decent” is more passive. Kindness is about doing kind things for people; being decent is about receiving people on their terms, in a non-judgmental way. (According to the authors of the Cypher System Core Book, descriptors are supposed to be active, so my new creation probably wouldn’t pass muster.) On a more practical level, though, I didn’t want to use Kind because that descriptor imposes a penalty on detecting falsehoods, which seems like a bad fit for a private detective.
Bree’s descriptor, Emotionally Armored, is one of those, like Cruel or Vicious, that some GMs probably wouldn’t allow. It’s not potentially game-disrupting like those two, but is possibly too subtle to get across at most tables. (But hey, if anyone uses it, let me know how it went!) I think the main argument for including it would be so that a PC could go through the Becoming Vulnerable arc (below) and then trade it for a new descriptor. You get a good story, you get some XP, ayyyyy.
Finally, as I just noted, I’ve created a new character arc, called Becoming Vulnerable, which I don’t care for as a title but you gets what you gets. This is similar to the existing character arc Develop a Bond, but is more focused on the arc-ing character and assumes a strong internal conflict within them. (In the Cypher System, an arc is like a mini-story that a character can choose to go through, a little bit each session, that allow the player to explore that character further and also gain experience points [XP] to use.)
DECENT (DESCRIPTOR)
You’re just a decent human being. You’re kind and respectful, and you listen to people non-judgmentally. People can sense this about you, and most tend to respond positively to you because of it. This doesn’t mean you’re a sucker or a pushover or a pacifist; you know bad news when you see it in front of you, and you’re not afraid to use violence when absolutely necessary. But you try to avoid that path when you can.
You gain the following characteristics:
Emotional Intelligence: +2 to your Intellect Pool.
Skill: Your well-balanced demeanor puts others at ease. You are trained in all tasks related to pleasant social interactions.
Good Listener: Your common decency makes you easy to trust, and you can get people to open up. If you have a conversation with a stranger, you may use a one action, ten-minute, or one hour recovery roll (without gaining its healing benefit) to learn something about them you wouldn’t have found out otherwise.
Inability: Being decent means you’re averse to betraying someone’s trust. All tasks related to taking advantage of someone are hindered.
Initial Link to the Starting Adventure: From the following list of options, choose how you became involved in the first adventure.
Someone recommended you based on your reputation as a stand-up person.
You became concerned about another PC and you came along to keep tabs on them.
At your old job, people were taking advantage of your decency, so you decided to move on.
The PCs are going up against someone who is terrible and a danger to humanity, and you want to be there to help take them out.
EMOTIONALLY ARMORED (DESCRIPTOR)
Over the years, you have built up emotional defenses around yourself. The reason for doing probably has to do with pain in your past, but the exact details are are up to you. Still, the end result is that you don’t form strong attachments to anyone, so you won’t get hurt. You can be perfectly kind, friendly, engaging, helpful…you just don’t let anyone get close to you, and push anyone away who tries.
Defense Mechanisms: +4 to your Intellect Pool.
Skill: Keeping yourself this emotionally protected requires great mental strength. You are trained in Intellect defense tasks.
Inability: Difficulty letting people in means you have trouble trusting others. All tasks related to putting your trust or faith in someone else are hindered.
Initial Link to the Starting Adventure: From the following list of options, choose how you became involved in the first adventure.
The PCs are going on a journey that will be mentally and/or emotionally taxing, and you think you would be an asset to the team.
You are trying to escape someone or a situation that is causing you stress and pain.
You decide to follow one of the PCs, because you feel you have a connection with them, which both excites and scares you.
You know you need to change, so you’ve joined the PCs hoping they will be the catalyst you need.
BECOMING VULNERABLE (CHARACTER ARC)
You need to change on a fundamental level; more specifically, you need to learn how to drop your emotional defenses in order to make genuine contact with other people.
Although this Arc was designed with the Emotionally Armored Descriptor in mind, it is not required.
Opening: Unlocking the Door. It might simply occur to you that you need to change, or perhaps you failed at something or missed an opportunity because you couldn’t make that connection with someone. (Costs 1 XP if not taken at the time of character creation.)
Step: Cracking the Door A Bit. You make a tentative attempt to show another person the real you, that you don’t show anybody. Maybe it goes well, maybe it doesn’t, but you do it. (Earn 2 XP.)
Step: Swinging Open. You reveal yourself further, to the same person or a different one, and this time you are rewarded for your vulnerability with a newfound connection with that person. (Earn 2 XP.)
Step: Wide Open. You reveal yourself completely to another person, warts and all. How they respond will likely inform how the Climax proceeds. (Earn 2 XP.)
Climax: Swinging Shut. Your old self comes roaring back and threatens to undo the progress you’ve made. Will you hold your ground or will you succumb? (Earn 2 XP if you fail, 4 XP if you succeed.)
Resolution: You wake up to a new morning and a new you. There are horizons open to you that weren’t there before. Where you go now is up to you. (If you have the Emotionally Armored Descriptor, you may replace it with a new descriptor.) (Earn 1 XP.)
11/19/21↩︎