T.R. Baskin

I saw T. R. BASKIN at the cinema in Colorado when I was a college student several times. I recommended it to everyone. I thought it was on a par with FIVE EASY PIECES or THE LAST PICTURE SHOW. I don't think Candace Bergen was ever better and (the now late) Peter Boyle was great as was James Caan. Many years later in New York I had the opportunity to tell Candace Bergen how much I liked that film and she said, "Oh, they hated it. They all hated it." I thought it was very well written, with many very funny and clever lines. There is a heartbreaking misunderstanding in it that makes for fine drama. I recall it had a subtle touching depth to it and I would love to see it again all these years later to see how it holds up.

I caught this movie one Sunday afternoon on TV at least 15 years ago and never forgot it (and have not been able to find it). I have searched for it on e-bay, amazon, here -- and can't find it.

Candace Bergen gives an amazing performance as a young woman starting her life alone. I would love to see it again ... as I recall, the scenes are very 70s and may look dated, but the story is timeless.

As I recall, it had shades of "Looking for Mr. Goodbar," but not as dark. I would say the movie has a sardonic feeling. Candace Bergen's character, T.R. Baskin, is smart, cynical and searching for her place in the world.

I finally got a chance to see a (poor) print of this film today after wanting to see it for years. I could appreciate its originality and sophistication for the time that it was made, but I was left wondering just what the film was really trying to say. It worked more as a character study than a film. The theme of the cruel and impersonal big city seemed to be a recurrent one in the 1970's (much like "Midnight Cowboy"), and seemed to be a symbol for the lost individual trying to find meaning in life.

I've never been able to believe Candice Bergen in any role I've ever seen her play, and this film is a good example. She's stiff and virtually emotionless in most of this, except for two scenes where her acting became so exaggerated that it was almost embarrassing; once where she laughs uncontrollably (more like shouts) when she is conversing with Peter Boyle and another at the end where she cries after a telephone conversation with her parents. They both sounded exactly the same, and were frankly kind of startling, leaving me wondering why the director allowed her to go so far and didn't ask for another take where she toned it down a little.

The "plot" never really goes anywhere. T.R. seems vacant, zombie-like and sarcastic, and the flashbacks gave me the impression they were being intentionally inserted to make a point when the film would come to an end. They didn't. The scenes in the film could have been played in real time as they happened and it wouldn't have made any difference at all.

There's some dialogue between Bergen and Caan in which she tells him that he "talks like a typewriter." I felt like this described a lot of the film; people don't talk or act this way, and I'm sure it looked great on paper. I can appreciate that this film portrayed a character and her experiences in a very different way for its time, but it didn't really seem to make a conclusion about anything.

. . . to get this movie released on DVD? I too am among those who saw it on television years ago and who remember bits and pieces of the dialog (like, to paraphrase, "It's like admiring someone from a distance and when you get up close to him you notice he has bad skin." If I recall correctly Candace Bergman speaks this line while looking down on Michigan Avenue from a high-rise apartment, perhaps in the John Hancock building, and it served as a metaphor for what she found out about life in the big city). Its soundtrack was also liable to turn up frequently in the 98 cent bargain bins and this is how I happened to recognize it when it showed up on the CBS late movie in the late 1970s. The Chicago location was unusual for a 1971 film -- well before pictures like "The Blues Brothers," "Ordinary People," and "Risky Business." Candace Bergman's performance, and way of delivering lines, was indeed mesmerizing, and this film's unavailability and obscurity makes unavailable and obscure a certain moment in 20th century American history that we don't think too much about; it is rather like the dark side of the Mary Tyler Moore show, a snapshot of a lost generation. Please, someone bring it back.

Having watched director Herbert Ross's "T. R. Baskin" twice now, I still have no idea why the filmmaker was drawn to the material or why Paramount gave it the green light. Written by the otherwise-astute Peter Hyams, our titular heroine is rather the antithesis of TV's Mary Richards: she's not about to turn the world on with her smile. An escapee from a small town in Ohio, T. R. arrives in Chicago and is immediately taken advantage of by her cab driver from the airport (but nothing is built upon this--it's just shrugged off). She finds a boring job and a boring apartment, she goes out on a boring blind date--the only thing missing is a boring cat. Played by Candice Bergen, T. R. Baskin isn't pithy or wise: she's deadpan nearly throughout. I assume Hyams meant her cynicism to be blunt and amusing, but Ross doesn't ask Bergen to deliver anything more than a sketch of the character (we get nothing about her background save for a phone call home to mom). The film's framing device is deadly: an ex-Army man (a young James Caan), who insulted T. R. after a roll in the hay, sets up her with a married man in Chicago on business. This plot device makes absolutely no sense, and Ross skitters over it, perhaps shamefacedly. Fortunately, the married man is played Peter Boyle, and he emerges as the star of the picture. With his pearly-pink skin, shy smile and alert eyes, it's obvious the movie should have centered on Boyle's would-be philanderer rather than on Bergen's squinting/suspicious working girl. T. R. Is disappointed by life; she finds the Windy City an alienating place, she's in danger of being swallowed up by the anonymity of city living, but will she fight her predicament or simply surrender to it? We don't know because Ross and Hyams want to keep T. R. a floating question-mark. Had T. R. been a tough little nut, we might have had something to respond to; instead, she only comes to life with a case of the giggles in bed, and even then we don't really know why she's laughing. ** from ****