“You Work on Wall Street?” “What, Like It’s Hard?”

A Feminist Approach to Working Girl (1988)

Working Girl (1988) – Feminist

I hope all my US-based readers had a lovely time over Labor Day if you had off, and if you did, I hope you thanked a union for its service. We owe a lot to the amazing people who formed connections and networks to fight for the rights of others in the workplace, and it’s up to us to defend those rights and push for more until there is equity, security, and respect for workers everywhere.

In honor of Labor Day, I watched a movie I thought was about showgirls unionizing but, mystified at why I would think that, my husband realized that I had conflated Showgirls (1995) and Norma Rae (1979), two other films I’ve never seen, and said through giggles, “no, NO, Working Girl is an excellent film. Showgirls is awful and I would never, ever suggest we watch that unless you wanted to do one of your very funny reviews that you do some times” and I whispered “some times” and he said “I would like to read that actually so someday we should watch Showgirls” and I said “okay, so then what is Working Girl?” and he said “it’s like a predecessor to Pretty Woman (1990)” because he knows Pretty Woman is my favorite film of all time, so I was like “OH, yes, let’s watch that” and then we did, and it was kind of the exact opposite of Pretty Woman but not in a bad way.

So, Working Girl. Working Girl is about a 30-year-old Staten Island woman Tess (Melanie Griffith) trying to break into Business™. (For more on “Business”, see my review of Baby Boom (1987) in which Diane Keaton’s indiscernible job is simply: Business.) Tess does night school in Business while her raggedy ass boyfriend, Alec Baldwin, is shtupin’ Doreen, so Tess drops him and her secretary status and upgrades to doing both Business and Harrison Ford, and we’re supposed to love that for her, but it’s complicated because he immediately lies to her when they meet with the intent of sleeping with her despite knowing that it will 100% humiliate her in Business the next morning. The film objectifies the fuck out of Ford though, and Tess is also lying to him in a way that will 100% humiliate him in Business, so I guess it evens out, so long as we’re all cool with the conclusion that Business is bad and the people who thrived in Business in the 80s were also bad.

The Review Roulette wheel landed on feminism which, like, is what the film is so I’m not nuts on it. The obvious approach here is just discussing how the film portrays Tess as a real working class woman trying to break into the managerial class where her rich counterpart and boss, Katherine (Sigourney Weaver), already is. Ultimately, Tess’s merit and work “ethic” (her overall ethics are questionable) leap frog her over Katherine while Katherine’s entitled, domineering behavior gets her canned.

We could also talk about how the film makes Katherine the primary villain despite setting the film up with the overt misogyny Tess has to deal with, including one CRAZY cameo (in retrospect), ostensibly just parodying Wall Street (1987). Business is portrayed as a man’s world, and Tess does think she’s found security by working in a woman’s employ, but Katherine proves herself just as willing to hurt Tess as anyone in Business. All interesting, but all kind of blatant in the film. It is a complicated film with grey areas everywhere, though, which certainly makes the obvious discussion points way more interesting unless, of course, you accept that Business is bad and 80s Business is worse.

So, instead, I want to talk about my favorite character and, coincidentally, the most glaring crossover with Pretty Woman, Tess’s best friend Cynthia (Joan Cusack). Cynthia is Tess’s ride or die grounding force. She’s the one who is willing to physically fight another woman, whom she does not know, to protect Tess. She shows up in Manhattan at the drop of a hat to comfort Tess, and she calls her on her shit when necessary, reminding her where she came from. I love Cynthia. I love that even though she’s a bit of a stereotype of Staten Island, she feels like a fully formed person. She isn’t a film trope; she’s more than that, and I think that attention to her character is where the real clarity comes through in this film for a feminist message.

Katherine and Tess are both engaging in dubious, quite shitty, deceptive behavior. For Katherine, it’s suggested that she just is that way, she just sucks. For Tess, we’re meant to be sympathetic because she has been assaulted and accosted and treated as lesser both in love and in Business. Cynthia, though, is the opposite of deceptive. Even when she is pretending to be Tess’s secretary for a moment, she’s authentically herself, hitting on Harrison Ford like it’s her full time job. Her hair is teased, she has multiple shades of metallic eye shadow, she chews gum, and she chose teal as her bridesmaids’ color. She is consistent and probably the only person in the film who truly knows who she is inside and out.

Cynthia also doesn’t judge Tess. She supports Tess wholeheartedly even when she checks her on one of Tess’s more surreal ideas – to do Business at a wedding she intends to crash – with one of the most 80s lines imaginable: “Sometimes I sing and dance around the house in my underwear. Doesn’t make me Madonna. Never will.” In this moment, Cynthia is hurt by Tess’s rejection of her request to talk about her own issues for a moment, but she still supports her girl with words of caution and concern. Ultimately, because it’s an 80s fairy tale, Tess is able to be Business Madonna in a way that opened the doors of Harvard to Elle Woods, and who’s the first person she calls when she reaches that height? Cynthia. Not to rub it in her face, not to say “I told you so”, but to share a moment of triumph with her best friend who jumps out of her own secretary chair cheering for her best friend. Cynthia rocks. Snaps for Cynthia.

While this movie on the face is one about two women at odds with a class dimension between them and a “dog eat dog” mentality of surviving in a male dominated field, it’s also about two girls with a lifelong friendship. Cynthia, or Cyn, is to Tess what Kit is to Vivian in Pretty Woman (albeit they weren’t lifelong friends). Kit is overjoyed for Vivian and encourages her to make more of herself without a hint of jealousy or scorn, just excitement to support her in chasing her dreams. These two characters, Cyn and Kit, are such important counterbalances to the wealthier, rude women the leads meet in each film who judge them before speaking to them and look down on them based on their own social misconceptions. Cyn and Kit show solidarity from one working class woman to another, true love and care and encouragement to become whoever they want. All four of the women go on to live their lives in different directions and on different trajectories, but we are led to believe that after the credits roll, their friendships continue to be ones rooted in that love and supportive care.

Solidarity. That’s the feminist message I want to take from the film. Ladies and theydies, if you have a ride or die out there, shoot them a little message of love and gratitude for being your rock. Al, I love you, and I’m so grateful for our friendship and so proud of you. (And if you’re in the Philly area and need an amazing photographer, you gotta go with my girl: Moments by Ali Ryan)