Film Flam

“Klute” (1971)

Klute is a cinematic and sensory pleasure. It’s the kind of movie, whose pacing is so carefully composed and so precise that I can watch it with the sound off; the rhythm of shots flowing into one another providing a theraputic calm.

Gordon Willis, famed chiarascuro cinematographer gains most of the credit on this, as does Pakula and the placement of his camera — usually behind something, forcing us to see through objects that are out of focus in the extreme foreground. This sublte effect creates tension in the larger widescreen frame, and is gradually built throughout the whole movie, culminating in a chiling dialogue scene near the close of the film. It’s as if Pakula is forcing his viewer to hide and cower in the darkness against their will.

It’s also intriguing to watch Willis and Pakula create what will become the linga franca of neo-noir in the coming decades. A special nod should be given to production designer (here credited as Art Director) George Jenkins, a frequent collaborator of Pakula’s who consistently managed to create believeable enviroments for characters to inhabit. There aren’t many films where stacks of paper can evoke feelings of time and place. Klute is filled with the posh furniture of casting offices, the grime of alleyways, the clutter of offices and the danger and loneliness of a studio apartment. These real world environs, joined by deft camera placement and dark lighting go on to be emulated by visionary directors like David Fincher (Se7en, Zodiac), and Ridley Scott (Blade Runner, Thelma & Louise).

Pakula, a master of paranoia and mistrust created a film with brooding anxiety that builds and then releases it’s snake-like grip on the viewer, but the traces of the experience linger and the cold chill of fear remain for days after.