Somebody Killed Her Husband (1978) Novelization

Written by Clyde Phillips.  Based on the 1978 film written by Reginald Rose and directed by Lamont Johnson. It starred Jeff Bridges, Farrah Fawcett-Majors, John Wood and John Glover.

It wasn't until I looked into this film that I found out that Fawcett was originally cast in FOUL PLAY (1978), but due to contract issues with Aaron Spelling over Charlie's Angels, she was not able to do it. Goldie Hawn got the role instead. That is a shame because Fawcett would have been good in that film, which while not a great movie nevertheless was successful, which is more than can be said of Fawcett's first couple of big-screen starring roles. Her first three films were SOMEBODY KILLED HER HUSBAND (1978), SUNBURN (1979) and SATURN THREE (1980), which all flopped. SUNBURN is a bad movie and Fawcett is not particularly good in it. She is much better in SATURN THREE, but it is SOMEBODY KILLED HER HUSBAND that really showed her promise. She is luminous in the film and one can't help but think that if she had better material her career would have turned out differently.

This is not to say that SOMEBODY is a good movie. It has a plot that requires a balance between playfulness and seriousness to truly work. The movie is all over the place tone-wise, playing it much too broad when it needed to be more subtle, and too subtle when it needed to be broad. It also has an inappropriate music score that throws off the tone. Bridges and Fawcett are quite good and show an easy chemistry that is ultimately squandered, and the whole thing ends up being fairly ridiculous.

The novelization does a much better job of maintaining a tone which gives the material more of a chance to work, and for the most part it does. Whereas you grow irritated with the illogical actions of the characters in the film, I was able to go along with it in the book, which is full of additional detail and character insight.

Excerpt:

Although hundreds of kids and parents swarmed all over the floor like bugs conquering a picnic, Jerry caught the slightest glimpse of one particular woman through the crowd and, for the first time that morning, stopped talking to himself. It was her hair. The first thing he could see clearly as he raised up on his toes was her hair. She was on the other side of the department and a sea of bobbing heads separated them, but Jerry's eyes locked on her and could not be averted. The natural flow of the crowd was carrying her toward him.

The hair. Full, blonde, with a few delicate hints of a darker beige suggested throughout, swirling in healthy, vital waves to her shoulders. As she worked her way closer, Jerry was able to get a better look at the woman beneath the exquisite hair. The glimpse gave way to an out-and-out stare as he stood in reverent appreciation of a truly singular beauty.

Her face was classically drawn. High, proud cheekbones, flawless skin and a tiny, aristocratic nose. Soft lips and perfect teeth that seemed to be illuminated from within. A proper beauty; the girl of any man's dreams. Jerry felt divinely privileged just to be allowed to look for a while and remember this moment forever.

As she wandered through the shoppers, Jerry noticed that, for all her exquisite appearance and posture, she was dressed rather simply. Washed-out jeans, a pink T-shirt under a blue workshirt tied at the waist. White tennis shoes and no belt. Her only concession to fashion was a navy blue Anne Klein scarf tied loosely around her neck, almost as an afterthought.

When she finally emerged from the milling people, Jerry saw that she was not alone and he sighed. It figured. Not that he had the slightest chance of ever getting to know someone like her, but the ten-second fantasy that had just raced through his mind would have lasted him a couple of months.

Klute (1971) Novelization

Written by William Johnston.  The film was written by Andy Lewis and David E. Lewis and was directed by Alan J. Pakula.  It starred Jane Fonda, Donald Sutherland, and Roy Scheider.

Klute is a reasonably effective mystery bolstered by an Oscar-winning performance by Jane Fonda.  She really is very good in this, and together with her Oscar-nominated role in They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (1969), she was on something of a tear in the early 1970's.  Acting-wise at least.  She was also becoming known for her politics, but her acting in these two films back-to-back is impressive. 

The film was the second to be directed by Alan J. Pakula, and it is the first to fully realize Pakula's "stylized documentary" approach, which is full of close-ups and off-kilter shots.  Cinematographer Gordon Willis was a big part of that, and Klute is visually impressive.  The sense of menace that the film generates is perhaps not quite to the level that Pakula was able to achieve with his next two films, THE PARALLAX VIEW (1974) and ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN (1976) but you can tell this was made by the same person.  

This novelization hews very closely to the screenplay, which is in turn very close to the final film.  There are a couple of differences but nothing particularly noteworthy.  There is a psychiatrist character who is female in the film, but male in the screenplay.  The ending was improved in the film as opposed to what is here--not of the mystery but with how the two lead characters' relationship is depicted.  The author of the novelization resorts to presenting dialogue as in a screenplay format too often.

Nothing is illuminated through the novelization process, but it reads pretty well.

From the back cover:

Klute was a cop from Pennsylvania. Bree Daniel was a New York call girl. They met when Klute came to the city looking for his best friend. Bree was his only lead but she couldn't remember the man. Or so she said. Her world of sex and hard drugs fascinated and repelled Klute. Its wanton cruelty represented everything he hated about the city.

But as Klute and Bree chased the missing man through New York's depraved underground society they found themselves drawn irresistibly together.

And then the killer appeared...  

Excerpt:

Carrying his suitcase, Klute stepped out onto the New York City street from the subway, then paused and looked about, uncertain as to which direction to take. After a moment, he sighted the street sign he was looking for. He set out, checking the addresses of the brownstones along the way.

This was the part of the city that was rarely mentioned in the travel folders. Garbage cans at the curbs, litter and dog droppings in the gutters, dim lights, downcast eyes and sullen faces. It was the part that made him appreciate most the green mountains and fertile fields of Pennsylvania.

A few blocks later, Klute reached the address he was seeking. Again, he halted. Squinting through the dimness, he peered at the For Rent sign in the window of the basement-level shop, then looked up toward the light that came from the window of the top floor apartment. Moving on, he ascended the steps to the foyer. After locating Bree Daniel's name on her mail box, he entered the building and climbed the stairs to the top level. When he reached her door, he knocked.

The peephole opened. Then a female voice, sounding annoyed, spoke from inside. "What is it?"

"Miss Daniel?" Klute said.

"So? What do you want?"

"My name is Klute---John Klute---"

The door opened approximately three inches. He could see enough of Bree Daniel's face to recognize it from the photograph he carried in his suitcase. Klute put his hand against the door to push it open. There was a crunching sound as it was stopped by the chain-lock.

Klute felt somewhat embarrassed, as if he had been caught trying to break and enter.

"Can I talk to you?" he said.

"What about?" Her manner was cold, suspicious.

"My name's John Klute."

"You said that."

"I'm an investigator," Klute told her. "I'd like to ask you some questions about Tom Grunemann."

"Who?" she asked, frowning.

"Tom Grunemann. He wrote you some letters."

"Geeeee . . ." she replied, forcing a slight smile, pretending innocence.

"He was a research engineer at the Tuscarora Laboratories in Pennsylvania," Klute went on. "He disappeared. I've been hired to look for him.

"Lucky you," she said. "Everybody ought to have something to do." She started to close the door---but Klute had a foot against it. "Believe me, he's not here," she told him.