Sundance Movies (pt. II)

Secretary

Working Girls

Hello, dear readers. It’s another year of my movie-related rambling—still underpaid, under-appreciated, and still un-attending Sundance. I know the 2024 Oscar nominations were just announced, and film buffs and novices alike are all abuzz with opinions and gripes and unwarranted, unserious hate speech about them, but as someone who is regularly enmeshed in awards season discourse (somewhat) against their will, I wanted to take a breather from the Academy and the hegemonic head-ass-ed-ness of it all. This week I wanted to commemorate Sundance during its 40th year by once again visiting some iconic films that made their premiere(s) at this iconic film festival. Sundance was founded by Robert Redford in 1978 and was fully-formed by the Sundance Institute in 1984, and it is where many filmmakers first screen their newest films, and where many critics (except myself) flock to feed on all of the culture that this Park City, Utah fest has to offer. Sundance has screened everything from my favorite movie of all time Heathers, to Napoleon Dynamite, to Roger and Me, to the first Saw film. Several films that I’ve watched for this very blog have been screened at Sundance like In Bruges, Memento, Blood Simple, Minari, Never Rarely Sometimes Always, All the Real Girls, Garden State, Before Sunrise, Y tu mamá también, Stranger Than Paradise, Night on Earth, Desert Hearts, Swiss Army Man, and Hoosiers. Maybe one day I’ll make it to Sundance to see some films and hopefully bump into RHOSLC legend Lisa Barlow, but until then, let’s visit some iconic movies that have been shown at this fest. Up first is a film that premiered at the 2002 Sundance Film Fest, and won the Special Jury Prize Award for “Originality” which makes sense: Steven Shainberg’s film Secretary. The film has been categorized as an “erotic romantic comedy-drama”, but it somehow overlaps in more genres, vibes, and tones than even “erotic romantic comedy-dramas” will allow for. Based on Mary Gaitskill’s short story of the same name and adapted for the screen by Erin Creseeda Wilson, Secretary follows a young Maggie Gyllenhaal as Lee Holloway: a timidly anxious woman who’s just been released from a mental health facility. Lee lives with her parents, her caring and protective mother (Lesley Ann Warren) and her alcoholic father (Stephen McHattie Smith), and she also lives partly in the shadow of her neurotypical and beautiful sister (Amy Locane.) Lee struggles with a self-harm addiction, one that manifests in her poking and cutting and burning her upper thighs. You can tell that Lee is at war with herself and her surroundings—she aches for normalcy and nicety but can’t go a day without witnessing her parents fighting or experiencing woeful bouts of self-doubt. Her tool box of sharp objects is an oddly comforting presence to her, but she clearly yearns for another form of relief. It’s when Lee decides to apply for a job as a secretary that she realizes that she has something to offer the world, and that maybe there are other outlets for her pain, her anxiety, and her frustrations. She interviews at the law office of E. Edward Grey (James Spader), and despite her inexperience and paranoias, as well as the obvious red flags surrounding this law office, Lee is offered the job and happily obliges. Mr. Grey warns her that she’ll get bored, to which she says “I want to be bored”, and he emphasizes that the work is dull, to which she says “I like dull work.” She is, for all intents and purposes, a decent and hardworking secretary to this highly discombobulated and mysterious lawyer, and Lee is overjoyed to be useful. Lee is soft and hopeful and increasingly optimistic, which is juxtaposed against Mr. Grey’s cold, rigid, standoffish-ness. He’s consistently just as strange as Lee is presented to be, and far harder to sympathize with, but the audience’s curiosity for this man presumably grows along with Lee’s personal curiosity. All is well and somewhat normal until Lee makes a few typos, and she finally learns of Mr. Grey’s wrath. He proceeds to roast her from head to toe, from surface to soul—telling her that the way she dresses is “disgusting”, her stress-induced fidgeting is distracting, and in general attacks her very core and character. Because I was already aware of the sexual nature of this film—having read it on lists upon lists over the years—I was waiting for any of this verbal abuse to feel hot, but it did not. Even though James Spader oozes sex in nearly every film he’s in, and even though he found a way to seem quiet and intimidating at the same time here, I felt zero attraction to this character. I awaited any semblance of sexual tension between Lee and Mr. Grey to materialize, but that never presented itself either. Even when Mr. Grey decides to spank Lee over his desk, and even when she consensually agrees to be degraded and walk around his office on all fours, holding forms in her mouth, I wasn’t feeling even remotely turned on. That may not have been the exact goal of Secretary, I’m sure, but when a film revolves so much around BDSM and other kinky sexual activities, I did expect a BIT of sexiness? To me the hottest parts of this movie were also the sweetest, as when Mr. Grey encourages Lee not to cut herself, and instead desperately wants her to find another form of relief elsewhere. It’s in these moments that she finally builds some confidence, finds her voice, and stands on her own—all she needed was permission to do so. Secretary takes several interesting turns throughout the course of its under-2 hour runtime, and would at times shift suddenly and jarringly in tone. I’m not sure if the editing or the writing is to blame for this, but going from feeling sad about Lesley Ann Warren’s sadness to being happy for Maggie Gyllenhaal’s newfound praise kink was a bit dizzying to me. What I’m still grappling with, other than the fact that this bizarre movie often makes “The Sexiest Movies of All Time” lists, is its complicated and muddied portrayal of female pleasure and its abrupt way of resolving this messy tale. I won’t give away the ending to Secretary, but what is most puzzling about this film is its hurried resolution. I really don’t want to kink-shame or yuck anyone’s yum, but I did find some of the power dynamics and presentations of BDSM to be highly uncomfortable here. Lee is a very clearly-stunted adult who is relying upon anyone who will help her, and while Mr. Grey provides a steady job for her and perhaps brings her out of her shell more, he is also part of the reason why she is so tortured. I’m not an expert on BDSM, but it was one thing when Lee was walking around on all fours, and quite another when Mr. Grey was telling Lee what and how much she could eat. That felt like the opposite of sexy—that felt like a bit of a trigger to this critic. In the end, Lee finds a curious way to become the dominant in their relationship by still remaining submissive, but its haphazardly-happy ending felt somewhat rushed and unearned—not for Lee, but for Mr. Grey. What lesson did he learn through this process? How was he changed for the better after encountering Lee? And are there ways for Lee to feel empowered by Mr. Grey that do not involve being sexually punished? For what it’s worth, Secretary was consistently intriguing and offered a potentially-humanizing, normie version of sex positivity and open-mindedness towards kink that perhaps did not exist previously. And in the end, I did appreciate the film’s sweetness, I’m just still a bit uncomfortable with the ride it took to get there. As I collected my complex thoughts on this complex movie, I wondered if I was the problem. Am I just too vanilla to appreciate this film’s sexual quirkiness? It was at this point that I popped on the next film of the evening, an equally-transgressive but more-successfully coherent exploration of sex that made me realize, maybe I’m not the problem after all, Lizzie Borden’s 1986 controversial classic, Working Girls. I was made aware of Lizzie Borden’s creative, realistic, and humanistic approach to filmmaking when I watched her incendiary indie dystopian hit Born in Flames, but Working Girls takes this filmmaker’s creatively humanistic lens to a whole new level. Working Girls was screened at Sundance in 1987, and won Special Jury Recognition. It follows a day in the life of several high-end New York City sex workers, and opens with some experimental, moan-y and melodic music that sounded so much like FKA Twigs. The majority of this film takes place in one very nice apartment building where a well-to-do and classy woman named Lucy (Ellen McElduff) is the madam in charge. We mostly see things from a new girl named Molly’s (Louise Smith) perspective, and we learn that she’s been in this work for about two months, and like every other girl there, she lies about her profession. Molly is a college graduate who is dating a woman, but every other girl embodies an entirely different identity and perspective. There’s Dawn (Amanda Goodwin) a college student who crassness and simple-mindedness grates on their madam, Gina (Marusia Zach) a more-established sex worker who offers advice and tips of the trade, and April, a veteran sex worker who tires of the younger girls getting chosen over her. The entire film takes place in this chicly-furnished brothel where different kinds of men with varying levels of confidence and predatory behavior are catered to with kindness. Lucy runs her establishment like any storefront manager would: expecting the place to be kept neat and tidy, and demanding a certain level of decorum and “class” from her employees. But just like any job, these women are overworked and underpaid, all while enduring some of the most odd and potentially-humiliating sexual requests that one could imagine. What was completely unexpected about this premise, though, is the fact that none of it felt humiliating or odd to watch. Lizzie Borden achieves such a sincere and lovely form of intimacy with her direction—paying less attention to each sexual encounter and more attention to the mundanity of this profession. We witness the bureaucracy and boredom of this business, the complicated math that must be calculated, the constant shifting of scheduling, and the accommodating of clients and employees alike. Additionally, we witness the bonding of these coworkers, the shared joints and gossip, the communal commiserating and shit-talking of their boss, the aftercare of showering and teeth-brushing and laundry. Unlike the unsexy depictions of sex in Secretary, I was absolutely compelled by the unsexy depictions of sex in Working Girls. It’s of course very dated, with its periodic homophobic slurs and somewhat anti-Semitic characterizations, but the entirety of Working Girls feels vastly, vastly ahead of its time. And while some moments in this film are unpleasant, none of it felt sensationalized or exploitative—it all felt refreshingly genuine and even sweet. These sex workers offer more than just a good time, they are excellent conversationalists and, at times, counselors to these needy men. And where I was constantly questioning who was really in charge in Secretary, I never had to wonder with this film, because all of the women were such a kind, intelligent, and powerful foil to the clientele’s pathetic horniness. In fact, after the somewhat wholesome presentation of kink in Secretary, it felt freeing to watch such a subversively sexual movie, one that includes every kind of fantasy and erotic aspiration—from something as simple as dominant/submissive role-playing, to something as strange and bewildering as a man who wants Molly to pretend to be blind so he can “cure her” by having sex with her. It is all so tremendously offbeat while remaining to be totally normal somehow. With a profession as mystified and stigmatized as sex work, it was nice to see such a tedious but seemingly true depiction that made it all seem less shocking. Even with all of the nudity and desperately cringey men, none of it felt too absurd or salacious, it all felt truly humanizing. There is no narrative within Working Girls that any of these women need to be saved, nor is there any moment that passes judgment upon what any of them are doing for money, it very quickly immerses you into this world and shows you just how regular and tedious it is. I was blown away by Working Girl’s slice-of-life sweetness, sincerity, and sense of humor, as well as its ability to depict humanity’s oldest profession in a way that felt necessary and timeless. And even though I’m currently still trying to form my own opinion on Secretary, I can see how it could be an enjoyable and significant film for some—as it is for one of my thoughtful and eloquent colleagues at Film Cred. The last time I did a Sundance Movie double feature, I unintentionally landed on two films that focused on some intriguing but toxic masculine performances, and this week I unintentionally found myself watching two sex-centric and ultimately fascinating and considerate portrayals of femininity. By the time I finally collect all of my thoughts about tonight’s two movies it may be time for the 2025 Sundance Film Festival, so I’ll wrap things up by saying thank you for reading along for another set of random movies, for another week. Bye bye, baby gorgeous, I’ll see you at Sundance! (one day… 🥺)