What’s always brilliant about American indie comedies is the uninhibited ability to touch on more dainty, potentially harmful subjects than a usual blockbuster cash-cow would have the gumption to wrestle with. But moving away from shocking the audience, films like Steven Shainberg’s Secretary from 2002 are able to delve into areas of modern life which we know exist, but we’re all too pathetic to explore.
In a career-defining performance, everyone real favourite Gyllenhaal sibling Maggie G plays the young and peculiar Lee Holloway. Released from institutional confinement, she lands a job working for harsh task master Mr Grey, America’s go-to-nutbar James Spader. Pushing the limits of a working relationship, the pair embark on a sordid affair, with Lee being the subordinated sex toy and Grey as the overriding daddy-figure. Yeah, overriding.
Perhaps not quite tickling enough funny bones, Secretary is still a juxtaposingly light-footed film carrying the ball and chain weight of sadomasicism. Have a listen to me ramble on in the review below, dear chap/chapette/Chappetto.