From the "Movies" Archives:

by Andy Bailey

[EDITOR'S NOTE: indieWIRE originally published this review in January 2002 as part of our Sundance coverage. Lion's Gate will release the film Friday.]

Of all the films at Park City this year, "Secretary" seems to have divided the most people. But for those who have embraced it, the film is like some transcendent spanking from the gods. A jet black comedy from the Todd Solondz school of laughable transgressions, "Secretary" starts out with a parade of dysfunction (self-mutilation, alcoholism, sadomasochism‹aren't they hilarious?) and coyly matures into a charming love story not all that far removed from "Pretty Woman." Maggie Gyllenhaal's breakthrough performance as a meek, self-abusing secretary who finds Prince Charming in the unlikely form of her sadistic employer reminds you of Julia Roberts' star-turn from 12 years ago, which molded an unflattering role into something winsome. A grizzle-eyed ugly duckling in slatternly outfits a who blossoms into a swan, Gyllenhaal should have no trouble finding herself in every magazine by the end of the year. "Secretary" beats you black and blue in all the right places, and leaves you grinning from ear to ear with its unexpected fairytale resolution.

In their adaptation of Mary Gaitskill's short story, screenwriter Erin Cressida Wilson and director Steven Shainberg wisely scrap the author's lumbering "pity me" posturing in favor of something more lighthearted and colorful -- a giddy bruise, if such a thing is possible. After a stint in the mental hospital, Lee signs up for vocational school, where she discovers a hidden talent as a hunt-and-peck typist. She answers an ad for a secretary, and when this frazzled wreck arrives at the baroque law offices of E. Edward Grey during a raging storm wearing a plastic mackintosh, she's Little Red Riding Hood. Her boss (James Spader), with his menacing whisper and low growl, is the Big Bad Wolf.

Lee gets off to a rocky start, with Grey taking wicked delight in verbally abusing her for every mistake and foible, including typos, spelling errors, sniffling and toe tapping. But she grows to enjoy his abuse, and is soon diving into filthy dumpsters for him, deliberately slipping typos into memos and sending him worms through the mail until he's whacking her bare ass with the palm of his hand. When he hits her, it feels like a kiss.

Soon the frumpy self-mutilator is transformed into a masochistic Snow White, joyfully fetching coffee in over-the-shoulder wrist restraints in hopes that her Prince Charming punishes her some more. But Grey's been transformed through this act of role-playing too. What used to be a methodical power trip between master and slave turns into something he can't quite grasp. A spanking session turns into a genuine sex act, and when Grey realizes he's fallen in love with Lee, he abandons her.

Grey's rejection drives Lee into the arms of a goofy J.C. Penney employee named Peter (Jeremy Davies), who makes love to her like a cold fish and instantly proposes marriage. Lee plays along out of self-preservation, but splits at the altar and races back to E. Edward Grey, her reluctant prince. What Lee does to nab Grey's hibernating heart is an act of fairytale sadomasochism that will either stake claim to your heart or make you flinch; in an instant, the film audaciously transforms itself into a classic romantic comedy.

There's a reason why there's a typewriter instead of a computer in the law offices of E. Edward Grey. The film's value system is straight out of the Fifties, and isn't that different from those Doris Day and Rock Hudson movies in which a woman finds completion once the right hunk comes along. The most subversive thing about "Secretary" is that it isn't very subversive at all -- it's actually quite tender and sweet, like a spanking administered by Debbie Reynolds.

Shainberg, who directed the abysmal pastel-coated Jim Thompson adaptation "Hit Me," and whose advertising work includes spots for Time Warner, Chanel and Miller Genuine Draft, coats his second feature in a garish excess of theatricality that makes it seem like he's trying too hard. And Amy Danger's menacingly cute production design, with its wood paneling and low lighting scheme, bends over backward to create a décor that suggests the Brothers Grimm by way of Pottery Barn. (Okay, we get it, she's Snow White in search of Prince Charming.) But Shainberg coaxes marvelous performances out of Gyllenhaal and Spader, whose cat-and-mouse courtship and sparkling chemistry is the main reason why "Secretary" grows on you. Some people won't buy a doe-eyed love story sown from the seeds of sadomasochism that ends in giddiness, but there's an exhilaration in Gyllenhaal and Spader finding each other in the dark. Instead of a Solondz ending, we get one from Garry Marshall. And a crowd pleaser like "Pretty Woman" is the last thing you'd expect to find at Sundance this year.