Boy meets girl. Boy spanks girl. Boy gets girl. Boy -- wait. What's wrong with this picture?
If it's Secretary, a film based on the Mary Gaitskill story of the same name, absolutely nothing.
From director Steven Shainberg comes the story of a man and a woman who fall in love as they come to a mutual understanding of loneliness, pain and the pleasures of S&M. Lee Holloway (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is a young woman with a dysfunctional family and a penchant for self-mutilation. After her release from a mental institution, she decides to better her life by taking a typing course and looking for a job. Her search leads her to the offices of E. Edward Grey (James Spader), a neurotic lawyer with a fetishistic collection of red pens and a lighted "Secretary Wanted" sign hanging by his front door. He senses something in the nervous, twitchy woman who appears out of the blue and hires her immediately, despite her lack of experience. It's not long before Lee's shy insecurity and Edward's overbearing personality add an unsettling domination and submission element to their relationship, culminating in a twisted liaison that allows Lee to finally revel in her sense of self even as Edward begins to question his.
Secretary is a number of things -- a clever look at sexual politics, a dark comedy. Above all, it's a romance, albeit a most unusual one. Secretary is Shainberg's cheeky tribute to the absurdity of love, a tart package of emotional insight and kinkiness wrapped in Crayola-bright colors and enough explicit imagery to warm the heart of any Anais Nin enthusiast. Lee and Edward aren't picture-perfect Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant types who meet cute and live happily ever after; they're quirky, questionable people with enough baggage to fill a 747 and a disconcerting need to "assume the position," figuratively and literally. Nevertheless, they're also soul mates in the grand romantic tradition, and their journey towards finding passionate fulfillment and securing the ties that bind (so to speak) is a joy to watch.
In only his third feature, Shainberg establishes himself as a director with an eccentric sense of humor, a keen sensibility and a sharp visual style. His depiction of Lee and Edward's relationship is one gleefully long potshot at the candy-coated portrayal of love in pop culture. He takes the conventions of romance and gives them a subversive twist -- the lingering glances are suggestive rather than chaste, the realization of feelings is swift rather than drawn-out, and the music seems better suited to a goofy O70s porno than a modern romantic comedy.
However, Shainberg is also aware of the stark truth and sweetly awkward joy that exists in his story, and he imbues his characters with a down-to-earth sense of dignity that makes them sympathetic rather than pathetic. The slight but substantial script by Erin Cressida Wilson assists him in his efforts, painting potent pictures of character and setting with a few bold verbal strokes. Shainberg's sensitivity to image, evident in his deliberate use of subtly saturated colors and lively camera movements, adds greatly to the development and portrayal of the story.
His efforts aren't perfect -- the juxtaposition of slow, lingering shots and rapid cuts is jarring at times. Likewise, the story moves at a similar stop-and-go pace that results in moments of imbalance and unevenness. Nevertheless, Shainberg's joyful ambition and finely tuned understanding of his material make for a film whose frank imperfections make it all the more endearing.
Despite the strength of its direction and script, a film like Secretary, based on the dynamic among its characters, only works if its actors do. The secondary cast, particularly Lesley Ann Warren as Lee's caring but clueless mother and Jeremy Davies as Lee's charmingly hapless boyfriend, adds nicely to the film, but it's Spader and Gyllenhaal who make it a joy to watch. Spader is pitch-perfect in the role, his seedy looks and world-weary demeanor lending greatly to a character who is simultaneously endearing and off-putting. His finely honed portrayal reflects his acute awareness of the tenuous balance that Edward struggles to maintain between his need for his control and crippling emotional insecurities.
Like her co-star, Gyllenhaal possesses an instinctive understanding of her character that allows her to attune her performance to a point where Lee is no longer a mere character but a fully realized individual whose growth is an absolute pleasure to watch. Gyllenhaal is not a classically beautiful actress, but she has attractively off-kilter features and a sharp awareness of her physicality that enhance her presence, and she uses them cunningly. It is an audacious, demanding performance on a number of levels -- Lee is a character completely devoid of artifice and guile, and she experiences emotion with an openness and purity of spirit that is powerfully striking. Despite the scenes of full frontal nudity, masturbation and self-mutilation, it's this aspect of the character that presents the most daunting challenge, and Gyllenhaal not only meets it, she rises far above it. Her performance is a combination of crafty skill and sheer delight unlike anything that's appeared on the silver screen all year, and if there's any justice, she'll be thanking the Academy next March.
Indeed, the course of true love never did run smooth, but Secretary proves that sometimes it's the roughest of rides that leads to the happiest of endings.
