Reviews

Steven Shainberg's "Secretary" is one of those rare small-budget movies that deliver the impact of an A-list blockbuster. Watching it, you feel its powerful images and plot material would be comfortable in the hands of megastars in a budget-straining production.

We are asked to consider the plight of Lee Holloway (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a young woman recently released from a mental institution, and her boss Edward Earle (James Spader), a martinet strung so tight he's a candidate for the rubber room himself.

She's the eponymous Secretary, he's the lawyer she works for. Edward is a stickler for perfection -- so much so, he keeps a supply of red sharpies in his desk drawer to circle typing errors in the letters his secretaries produce. One crucial day, he orders Lee into his office, closes the door, and presents her with a typo-ridden letter that came from her typewriter. That's right, this dinosaur is so antedeluvian that he refuses to allow computers in his office -- only typewriters.

Edward orders Lee to bend over his desk and look closely at the letter. When she does so, he gives her a sound spanking. She takes it, never budging to resist.

Probably most young women today would head straight for the nearest feminist lawyer's office and file a harrassment complaint. But not this young woman. Lee is a self-mutilant, and the spanking visited on her acts as a release of her masochistic needs. Maggie Gyllenhaal -- in a virtuoso performance -- makes us feel the secretary's relief. We can feel the cathartic effects of the spanking on her psyche.

But "Secretary" isn't about spankings, it's about redemption. Lee and Edward, now drawn together in a symbiotic relationship, realize that they are meant for each other.

Lee is first to realize the truth. Edward tries to deny his redemption, even going so far as to try to fire Lee, to get her out of his life. But the self-tortured Lee is not so easy to dispose of, now that she has had a taste of salvation. After she completes one final, excruciatingly difficult act of love (no spoilers here), Lee is reunited with Edward, who resigns himself to the truth and carries her off in his arms to -- to what? From all appearances, to a life of love everlasting.

It's seldom (read: NEVER) that we see a mainstream film deal with sadomasochism in such a gentle, nonjudgmental manner. The sadism here is not to be laughed at. We may not agree with it, we may shun it in our own lives. But here, there is no denying that it is a cloak for the redemptive, cleansing act of true love.

"National Lampoon Goes to the Movies" is the worst movie ever made, surpassing even the witless "Plan 9 from Outer Space." At least that movie was just inept; the Lampoon film, on the other hand, is both inept and mean. Once upon a time, movies used to respect their audiences' intelligence. This one, however, holds a fetid, rotting carcass up to our faces -- and then tries to rub our noses in it.

Another reviewer on this site wrote that the only good parts of the movie are the nude scenes; and I agree, Misses Ganzel and Dusenberry do flash a bit of flesh, and very nice flesh it is. But the directors seem not to realize that even T&A needs a good story to surround it. There's none of that here.

Perversely, the film makers save the worst for last. The third of the three segments is the ugliest of the trio. In this vignette, Robby Benson plays an eager-beaver young police officer reporting for duty on his first day on the job. He is paired with a weary, cynical oldtimer played by Richard Widmark. For just a moment, we are given hope that this film will end triumphantly. Surely, we think, the youngster's spunky attitude will rub off on the cynic and change him for the better.

Forlorn hope! Instead, the cynic wins the day -- and the youngster's spark is doused forever. "National Lampoon Goes to the Movies" and heads right for the toilet, asking us to follow it down the drain. Nominally, this is a comedy. But where's the humor?

"National Lampoon Goes to the Movies" (1981) is, simply put, the worst movie ever made, far lamer than even the inept "Plan 9 from Outer Space."

The Lampoon film is told in three segments, each one supposedly a spoof of a conventional movie genre, but each one landing at our feet with a sickening thud. There is no rhyme or reason for these execrable vignettes, and no discernible story lines.

Another reviewer on this site has written that the only good points about the film are the nude scenes. True, Misses Ganzel and Dusenberry do flash a bit of flesh, and very nice it is too. But the directors seem not to realize that even T&A needs a good story to surround it. There's none of that here.

Probably the worst of the three segments is the last one, featuring Robby Benson and Richard Widmark. Here, we see Benson as a young, eager-beaver policeman being paired with a cynical oldtimer played by Widmark. And for just a moment, those of us who are still watching this odious cinematic exercise are heartened by the thought that we are about to see a redemptive tale about how the young, idealistic cop brings about a purifying change in the old-timer's approach to police work. But no such luck. As we've said, this film has no redeeming values. It is sickening all the way to the final fade-out -- which, perversely, is stretched out longer than it should last on the screen. Apparently the film makers knew they had a bad thing going, and wanted to make the least of it.

"National Lampoon Goes to the Movies" (1981) is absolutely the worst movie ever made, surpassing even the witless "Plan 9 from Outer Space." The Lampoon film unreels in three separate and unconnected vignettes, each featuring different performers. The only common thread is the total lack of any redeeming qualities.

Well, maybe there is one. Another reviewer on this site has said that the fleeting nude shots are nice, and he's right. Misses Ganzel and Dusenberry flash their assets prettily, in part one and part two, respectively. But their glamorous displays are, alas, wasted. The directors seem to have forgotten that even T&A needs a credible story to surround it, and there's none in sight.

The third segment, starring Robby Benson and Richard Widmark, is the most disgusting of the three, and an unfortunate choice as the windup of this film. Benson plays an eager-beaver young policeman, brightly reporting for his first day of duty, ready to rid the streets of evil. He is paired with an old, cynical cop played by Widmark, and when these oil-and-water partners set out on their first patrol together, we sense a possible redemption of the film's earlier failures. Maybe, just maybe, the cynical old-timer will be reformed by his new partner's stalwart sense of duty and loyalty. Maybe all will end happily after all. But alas, this movie heads straight for the toilet, with no redemption, no happy ending, no coherent story of any kind.

Before "National Lampoon Goes to the Movies," I thought I had already seen the worst schlock that Hollywood could possibly turn out. Unfortunately, I hadn't seen the half of it.

In the earliest years of silent cinema, former prop boy Mike (Don Ameche) "discovers" a charming Broadway understudy, Molly (Alice Faye), and impulsively hires her to a personal contract to star in pictures. With Mike as director, Molly is set to appear in a film with Buster Keaton as her boyfriend -- but things get out of hand, the first day on the set.

By accident, Buster flings a custard pie into Molly's lovely face, thus throwing off the rhythm of their primly choreographed love scene. Soon Molly, Buster, and the "villain" of their scene (George Givot) are covered in custard, and the laughing and applauding onlookers convince Mike he's discovered a new screen genre. He milks it for all it's worth, launching a series of slapstick comedies -- with pies, bathing beauties, and Keystone-style Kops -- all featuring Molly, who becomes a big star.

If "Hollywood Cavalcade" had continued in this same vein, it would probably have become a classic. Instead, about halfway through, Mike makes the decision to turn Molly into a dramatic actress, starring in serious photoplays and leaving her slapstick days behind.

The film's second half turns maudlin when Molly, whose love for Mike seems unrequited, marries her new costar Nicky (Alan Curtis). Having lost his biggest star, Mike slides into despair, his films regularly losing money. Then Nicky is killed in a traffic accident and Molly teams up with Mike again. They make a hit picture, and discover that they've loved each other all along.

"Hollywood Cavalcade" marked two firsts for Alice Faye: her first Technicolor film, and also the first in which she sings not a single note. But her performance was generally lauded by the film critics.