🔴 Passion & Passivity
Jan 18, 2015
sex, lies and videotape, directed by Steven Soderbergh (1990).
Bad influence, directed by Curtis Hanson (1990).
Secretary, directed by David Shainberg (2002).
I’ve been watching some James Spader films from the 1980s and 1990s (to fill the time until The Blacklist starts up again). My response has not been what I expected, especially to Crash, ‘sex, lies & videotape’ and also, Bad Influence and Secretary. This group seems to have a certain coherence, thematically. In all of these, I would say James Spader plays an innocent, even a sexual innocent. I am not saying he is sexually naive, but rather is caught up in situations in which sexuality is an externalized, even emasculating force with which he is trying to cope. In both Crash & sex, lies & videotape, he struggles with impotence; also in both of these, he is just gorgeous, almost feminized at times. He is, in both, more the subject of seduction than its perpetrator. In key scenes in each the camera lingers on his wavy blonde hair and handsome face.
In both Crash and ‘sex, lies & videotape,’ we can (I think), assume that he is restored in the end to his sexuality and full humanness.
In the 1996 film Crash (directed by David Cronenberg), Spader’s character, James, seems likely to be a potential survivor as it appears he will eventually perpetrate the car crash death of his unnervingly narcissistic movie star wife (played by Deborah Kara Unger). “Maybe the next one, darling, maybe the next one,” is the last line of the movie. He is suggesting that the next time he drives his wife off the road (as he just did), it will result in her death. This line is identical to the first line of the movie, spoken by his wife to him when he fails to achieve an erection. Am I the only one who hears in his final line the first hint of assertiveness and irony in his voice in that entire movie?
Throughout the movie, James is tricked and enticed into sexual relationships by three other characters (one male, two female). These encounters are then recalled, honored or replayed with his wife, apparently to little actual sexual satisfaction for either of them, though the cutaways do leave some doubt. Let me mention, this is a very surreal movie and I may be projecting more into it that is warranted. The movie itself is seductive, moody, bleak and disorienting, as it creates the sense of a world in which humans are passive objects, subordinated to and hurled about by powerful technological forces. Crash is a dance with Death, literally. Human flesh and human nature are pitted against technology, raw force and the cutting edge of jagged steel. The visual juxtaposition of sensitive, living tissue punctured and traumatized by metal is recurring and terrifying. Not for the squeamish, mind you.
Ann confronts Graham saying that he is having an impact on all of their lives, that he cannot be a mere passive observer (of sex, ergo life), to which he claims he has tried to “structure his life” to have as little impact as possible, by expressing his feelings verbally instead of by actions, and by always being honest. His passivity extends to his resisting constructing any sort of narrative for his life, apparently in the hope of avoiding the lies implicit in having such a story. Instead, he has wandered across the country in his car and been a passive observer by making his videotapes. He chides Ann for daring him to leave his withdrawn state by asking him to justify his life for her:
What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to recount all the points in my life leading up to this moment, and then hope that it’s coherent; that it makes some sort of sense to you? It doesn’t make any sense to me. You know, I was there. And I don’t have the slightest idea who I am. And I’m supposed to be able to explain it to you…?
In the script but not the film is a heart-breaking passage [I don’t know why they left this out; but skip the quote below if you don’t want to have your sense of the film affected by it, because it makes a difference]:
God, Ann, when you’re with another person, and you’re…inside them, you’re so vulnerable, you’re revealing so much… there’s no protection. And…somebody could say, or do something to you while you re in this…state of…nakedness. And they could hurt you without even knowing it. In a way that you couldn’t even see. (looks at Ann) And you would withdraw. To make sure it didn’t happen again.
Then, in a poignant and beautiful scene, Ann touches Graham’s face and he lifts his hand to her face in response. Those wavy blonde locks again… The description in the script captures and goes well beyond what the film alone reveals:
ANN: I want to touch you.
Graham shakes his head.
ANN: I want to touch you.
GRAHAM: No.
Ann reaches out, and Graham instinctively begins to move away.
ANN: Graham.
Something in her voice makes him stop. Their eyes lock. Graham slowly moves back toward her. Ann’s hand eases out to him, her eyes still burning into his. Graham closes his eyes, accepting Ann’s touch. She caresses him. Slowly… Delicately… She touches his arms, his face, his hair. Closing her eyes, she takes his hand and puts it against her face. She begins to lie him back on the couch. When he offers light resistance, she gently persists.
ANN: Keep your eyes closed.
Graham lies back, silently obeying. Ann touches his face. Gradually, her hand slips to his neck and she begins to unbutton his shirt. She watches his face, hoping that he will remain calm. He does. She rubs her hand on his chest. Once again she brings Graham’s hand to her face. She moves his hand to her neck and throat, painting her skin with his fingers. Soon each hand is exploring the other. Fingers search for and find hidden areas.
Ann stands. Their hands remain together, and Graham’s eyes remain closed. Ann moves onto the couch with Graham. She gently lowers herself into a sitting position on [sic] his waist. She slowly moves both of her hands onto Graham’s chest. They move forward and back, like a lazy tide. She looks at Graham. His face is tranquil.
Ann quietly begins to move her face toward his. Soon she is hovering inches above him, her long hair touching his features. She lowers her lips to his forehead and kisses him. She waits for a negative reaction. Getting none, she moves lower and kisses his eyes. Still receiving no discouragement, she moves to his nose. A subtle movement from Graham. Ann waits for a moment. She then moves to his lips, her luxuriant tresses enveloping his face. She kisses him lightly. She kisses him again.
Graham tilts his head back and she softly kisses his neck. Graham’s hands make their way up Ann’s back until they have reached her neck. He slowly pulls his face to hers. He kisses her.
Graham is flooded with warmth and excitement. He caresses her, intoxicating himself with physical contact. The kisses become more meaningful, and the touching becomes more passionate. For a moment, Graham seems about to evaporate in a state of ecstasy, his eyes filled with relief and happiness.
But his gaze happens to fall on the video camera, which continues to record. Graham seizes up and abruptly backs away from Ann’s embrace. Reality slowly envelopes him.
ANN: Graham…
GRAHAM: I’m okay. It’s okay.
Ann reaches for his hand. He allows her to take it.
GRAHAM (almost dazed) It’s okay.
Graham looks at Ann for a long moment. She sees the acceptance and gratitude in his eyes. She smiles lightly. Graham moves forward and shuts off the camera.
[I hope I am not reversing some important creative decision to exclude some of this material from the film. If nothing else, it seems a shame for people not to have the opportunity to taste this delicious writing.]
Meanwhile, Cynthia has confessed to John about her interview with Graham, upsetting him. He becomes even more upset later when Ann tells him she wants a divorce. When he finds out that Ann too had an interview with Graham, he barges out of the door goes to Graham’s house, smashes him in the face and throws him out of his house, locking the door. Graham remains huddled outside the door, blood oozing from his mouth. John then finds the tape of Ann and plays it, reacting with anger, shame and hurt. It recorded much of the intimacy of Ann & Graham’s chemistry, their insightful challenges to one another and their physical encounter.
Leaving the house, John triumphantly tells Graham that he had had sex with Graham’s girl nine years earlier. Had Graham already guessed this? Is this why he showed up in John’s life? Graham goes inside and smashes all his videotapes and his recorder.
Returning to his office, John finds that he has lost his big client, the result of too many cancelled appointments to see Cynthia. His life is in a shambles. Ann visits Graham; they exchange affection and pleasantries on the stoop as it begins to rain.
Somewhat like Secretary (the 2002 film directed by Steven Shainberg), ‘sex, lies and videotape’ is a well structured morality tale in which the nice guy (Graham) finally gets the girl. Having lost his girl – and his virility – to John nine years earlier, Graham is now the victor (despite his bruises), and the black “funeral” shirt he was wearing when he first showed up – which John had mocked (in the film version only) – turns out to have been for John’s life of lies.Similar to Crash, there is only an inkling of a more active, fulfilled life ahead for Graham, but I think that’s where both films leave us.
Non-engagement in life is not an option. We are engaged. Passivity and impotence – being a victim, a spectator, a non-actor – is not only unrewarding; it is impossible. Graham has never actually escaped sexuality/action. Rather he has “split” into viewer vs viewed. But as Ann has let him know, even his intentional honesty and passivity have caused the stresses already inherent in the world he has entered to bulge, buckle and rip apart.
In ‘sex, lies, & videotape,’ Crash, Secretary, & Bad Influence, there is in fact, no way out from being involved. We are observers, yes, and others are watching us but that is no argument for passivity. Choosing, therefore, to act thoughtfully, engagedly and – yes, with love and commitment – is not only the only way forward, it is the most empowering and rewarding. For better or worse, we live in the context of our times, times in which action is often forsaken for passive viewership, a propensity we must either confront or somehow transform.

Having left her wedding to tell Edward she loves him, he responds, “I’m sorry but I don’t believe it to be true.” “But it IS true.” (Secretary, directed by David Shainberg (2002). James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal.)
There are echoes here of another Spader film, Secretary, in which Mr Grey, perhaps physically abused as a child, finds actual affection alarming and prefers less intimate forms of sexuality instead. In the end, thanks to the devotion of his secretary, Lee, played by Maggie Gyllenhaal (whose submissions reminded me of the tribulations of the Saints I learned about in Catechism class growing up Catholic), it seems things may work out for Mr Grey who eventually comes to accept that that he is loved and can “love back.”
These are all morality plays, with Bad Influence (directed by Curtis Hanson, 1990) being a perfectly structured Faustian tale in which the hero makes the right choice in the end. In this, it reflects Secretary (and, hopefully, the other two films with less explicit endings.). Bad Influence also involves the clandestine videotaping of James Spader’s character, Michael Boll, having sex with a girl he just met by Michael’s mysterious new friend Alex (Rob Lowe). Alex then invites himself to Michael’s engagement party, and to Michael’s shock and embarrassment, plays the tape to the assembled guests – since Michael had indicated he wished he could get out of the wedding. Subsequent wishes Michael has expressed also end up being granted, as Michael becomes more and more dependent on Alex through apparent complicity in his crimes. As I said: Faustian. Except for the sex, you could almost play this film for that Catechism class I mentioned earlier. Michael “does things” but by passively allowing himself to be led “into temptation,” by not acting intentionally, he fails to act freely.
In all of these “morality tales”, the “moral” is: we are all involved in history whether we want to be or not. Not-doing is doing. And doing – acting intentionally – involves a having a perspective on the past and a plan for the future. With history comes choice and the possibly of failure (tragedy) but also the possibility of success and joy, of connection with others however tenuous and momentary (comedy). Yes, there is manipulation, betrayal and evil in the world, but withdrawing from it is not a possible alternative; it is the avoidance of freedom. Better to take on the manipulators, betrayors and evil-doers, This is the context into which we are born and in which we suffer, confront, renew, rejoice, die. As Camus argued, we must “imagine Sisyphus happy.”
I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one’s burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself, forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
In short, stop being a wuss.

Passivity. James Spader with Andie MacDowell in sex, lies & videotape, with Susan Sarandon in White Castle, with Debra Kara Unger in Crash (having sex with another man as her husband drives), and with Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary
The archetype for all these characters may be found in Tennessee Williams’ great play Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. At the end of that play, the heroine, Maggie “the Cat” locks her husband’s liquor away to force him to have sex with her. She justifies this so:
Oh, you weak, beautiful people who give up with such grace. What you need is someone to take hold of you – gently, with love, and hand your life back to you, like something gold you let go of – and I can! I’m determined to do it–and nothing’s more determined than a cat on a tin roof – is there?
The last thing you might expect might be someone (me) suggesting that these four James Spader films that are reputed to be notoriously sexual, are truly about the impossibility of choosing powerlessness in life (with sex being used as a metaphor for action). Time has been kind to these films. Once considered avant-garde at best, scandalous at worst, they are now considered at simply “quirky.” All represent passivity or “watching” as our age’s increasingly predominant form of interpersonal (and political) engagement (or, perhaps more accurately: disengagement). In this, all of these films were decidedly prescient.
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