Is it a name? Is it a place? Is it a knock-off of Baskin-Robbins? Whatever T.R. Baskin means (and there is an amazing payoff to the “T.R.” mystery in the film but, because T.R.’s humor is so dry, it’s hard to know whether she’s serious or joking), it’s crazy how much you can take for granted that it’s obvious what a film is about.
Fun City Edition’s packaging for their Blu-ray release makes it very clear – and that goes for the limited edition slipcover (which features artwork by Pip Carter) and the standard edition (which uses the movie poster). Following in the tradition of Mildred Pierce, Hilda Crane, and countless other women’s pictures, T. R. Baskin is named after its female protagonist.
Played by a pre-Murphy Brown Candice Bergen and directed by The Owl and the Pussycat’s Herbert Ross, was it necessary to make the name ambiguous? While using initials can serve a purpose (like when female writers used initials to keep their work from getting dismissed), no one ever seems surprised by T. R.’s gender (only her name), so there isn’t an obvious strategy behind it.
The film’s identity problems run deeper than how it was marketed, however. Despite all of the evidence pointing to it being Bergen’s movie, T.R. Baskin begins, not with T.R., but with two former fraternity brothers running into each other again. Larry (The Godfather‘s James Caan) doesn’t seem to recognize Jack (Everybody Love Raymond‘s Peter Boyle) at first, but that doesn’t stop him from giving away Baskin’s phone number when the married Jack wants to know who he should call for a good time.
Ultimately Jack and T.R.’s encounter winds up being the frame story for T.R. Baskin. The rest of the film consists of flashbacks that explain how T.R. wound up in a place that she’d agree to meet with a stranger. If that sounds like a moral judgement, it’s not, but there’s a way the film could’ve kept it’s odd structure (of cutting back and forth between T.R.’s “date” and showing what her life’s been like since she moved to Chicago) and not ever lost T.R.’s point of view.
Because the film begins with Larry and Jack, no one going into this movie blind is going to realize it’s about her. T.R. comes across as a secondary character in her own story. All it would’ve taken to prevent that, however, is have the movie begin with the scene where T.R. answers the phone when Jack calls. No early scenes with Larry. Let the viewer be as confused as she is as to why this guy is calling. Larry’s identity can be revealed in the flashbacks.
If you’re wondering what inspired this rant over the film’s structure, that’s easy: Ben Reiser and Scott Lucas‘ excellent commentary track in which the co-hosts of 70 Movies We Saw in the 70’s regularly disagree but in a cordial manner. One of the topics they cover is whether T.R. Baskin would improve if the story was told in chronological order (I think those creative risks, like the non-linear timeline, the sound design, and Bergen’s unorthodox line readings are what make T.R. Baskin, however imperfect the results). They also argue about Larry’s intentions and identify a number of the Chicago locations.
Fun City Editions’ Blu-ray also comes with an interview with writer-producer Peter Hyams. Exclusive to the limited edition is an essay booklet by Chicago film critic Kat Sachs and (if possible) that’s the edition to get because, after reading what male critics thought of the film in Sachs’ essay, the importance of getting female perspectives becomes more pronounced.
T.R. Baskin is available on Blu-ray and DVD now from Fun City Editions.
0 Commentaires