Critics reviews

Fonda is particularly electric in her role as Daniels, tapping into the physical state of her character in the frame in a way that only a directors actor can. . . . She plays everything fake tough, but the movie is punctuated by scenes with her analyst that are formally little more than medium shot, one takes, but give Fonda the space to flesh out her character’s vulnerability amidst all the chaos of her life.

Fonda is electric in every moment of Klute, but watching her in these scenes with Nathan is like witnessing the sparks of a Tesla coil. Operating on alternating currents, Bree is a dynamic study in contradictions—an imperfect yet indelible symbol of second-wave feminism, the cresting of which nearly coincides with Klute’s release.

A movie resolutely of its moment that still surges with third-rail electricity... The dread and unease that suffuse the film — never has the peal of a rotary phone sounded more terrifying — seem rooted partly in anxiety over second-wave feminism, the cresting of which nearly coincided with the release of this movie, one that centers on its heroine's profound ambivalence about growing emotionally attached to a man (the laconic private investigator of the title, played by Donald Sutherland).

BARBARELLA treated Jane Fonda as an object of fascination. But KLUTE was the first to treat her as an object of dissertation. When we first "see" her, it's a tape recorder unspooling a recording of her voice, an image that reoccurs frequently. This motif of documentation signals the film's intent to make "Jane Fonda" a topic for study and dissection. Her character, Bree Daniels, is not only a call girl but also a struggling actress; and as the audience, we see both Bree playing Bree and Jane playing Bree.