Movies

For our latest Weekend Watch, we returned to “Nine to Five,” a comedy about three secretaries — Jane Fonda’s Judy, Lily Tomlin’s Violet and Dolly Parton’s Doralee — who work for a chauvinistic, handsy supervisor (Dabney Coleman). The boss is revolting and soon the women are revolting in an entirely different way: after some sniping, they join forces to overthrow him and establish a more equitable workplace complete with flex time and day care center. It’s a feminist lark with laughs, crude comedy, wafts of pot smoke and a catchy anthem written by Parton.Released in 1980, the movie followed a wave of feminist activism and shares its name with 9to5, National Association of Working Women. That organization was formed in 1973 and the history on its website could double as an IMDb synopsis: “a group of female office workers started talking about how they were treated at work.” One founder, Karen Nussbaum, was a friend of Fonda’s, and their conversations about sexual harassment in the workplace were a direct inspiration. The idea about doing away with the boss came from secretaries who shared their office stories with Fonda and the director, Colin Higgins. (Julia Reichert and Steve Bognar, Oscar winners for “American Factory,” recently completed a documentary about the movement.)“Nine to Five” was also part of a boomlet of female-driven films that suggested change had come to the movies.MANOHLA DARGIS When we started the Weekend Watch in March, theaters had shut down and we were searching for a way to foster a virtual community while in lockdown. But finding a movie to laugh along with can be tough. Old Hollywood is a representational land mine, with casual racism and sexism. Even newer movies don’t necessarily offer better, pleasurably egalitarian choices.We chose “Nine to Five” as our latest Weekend Watch while The Times was in the middle of turmoil that led to a great deal of internal soul searching. I’d seen the film not long ago, and, despite its flat-footed direction, it seemed like an apt choice. But watching it again amid a national reckoning on race, all I could see — and think about — was how white (and straight) it is. It’s at once empowering and dispiriting, and less a call to revolution than another of the industry’s well-meaning liberal calls for playing nice with power. I love the leads, but still.“This wasn’t funny in 1980 and it isn’t funny now. If the three protagonists had been black, no one would be laughing. — Barbara A. Lee, NY (via email)A.O. SCOTT Those leads — and their characters — are more radical than the movie itself. “Nine to Five” might look even more like a fluffy, well-intentioned product of its time if not for the charisma, political savvy and pop-cultural power that Parton, Fonda and Tomlin impart.In past weeks, we’ve looked at a few stellar examples of comic filmmaking craft, and it’s safe to say this is not one of those. There aren’t a lot of memorable jokes, and the set pieces (the pot-fueled fantasies of killing the boss, Franklin Hart Jr., the shenanigans with the cadaver the women think is his) hardly count as screwball classics. But like a lot of our readers, I would watch these three do anything. I can’t get enough of Tomlin and Fonda in “Grace and Frankie,” even if it’s not always that great a show. And Parton, in addition to being one of the great American songwriters of our time (“Jolene,” “Coat of Many Colors,” “I Will Always Love You”) is … I mean, she’s Dolly Parton.Part of the fun of the movie is the way their characters refract their well-established public personas. Fonda plays the prim, sheltered Judy absolutely straight and with a fragile dignity that falls away to reveal her wit and toughness. Wit and toughness are the qualities that Tomlin leads with, but we also see how Violet’s confidence has been eroded by the steady poison of humiliation. Doralee starts out as the punchline to a joke — the joke that Parton would often disarm by telling on herself and then turning around.This is a fable of empowerment that is aware of real obstacles and limitations. Its credibility comes from the knowledge that the three stars, for all the power they may have achieved in Hollywood and Nashville, had been exploited, belittled and taken for granted, too.I do see its presentation of “workplace sisterhood” as still relevant in the age of social media because, while it can seem dated in the current context of almost everything related to women in the workplace, it also offers what I think remains a clear-eyed view of what women still endure regularly in the office on any number of fronts, from the clueless and tone deaf boss, to demeaning work, to working long hours for generally less pay, to comments on dress and appearance — myriad issues that while perhaps not intractable remain bugaboos in the office. David Guyer, Chicago, ILDARGIS It’s complicated! The movie is one of those perfect imperfect specimens that ties critics and readers into frayed knots, as our commenters’ discussion underscored. It’s both aesthetically and politically frustrating, and the three female stars, by turns, transcend their material and are dragged down by it. A lot of viewers seemed to have experienced similar whiplash while watching it: laughing and then wincing, repeat. That makes it really interesting to me, partly because its contradictions are emblematic of the paradoxes that drive us nuts about many movies.One reader, Nicholas Hirst, wrote that the important scene happens after the women’s revolt and “we see a redecorated and enhanced workplace with more diversity and a clear shot of a man moving from his wheelchair to his desk.” I noticed that, too, but was also bummed that the overall efforts are so half-baked. As Elizabeth B wrote “There is no intersectionality in this film which today does not fly.” But then she added that she still prances “around my room to ‘9 to 5’ like no one’s business.” Same, same, even if Parton has caused heartache, as with her (since shuttered) Confederacy dinner theaters, which our colleague Aisha Harris wrote about a few years back.Part of what I enjoy about going back to certain movies — both those I loved and those I loathed or shrugged at — is exploring how they change but only because we do.SCOTT At the end, when the chairman of the board shows up (in the person of Sterling Hayden doing Colonel Sanders cosplay), he’s full of praise for the innovations Violet and her team have put in place over Hart’s signature. “Except for the equal pay thing,” he mutters, a sign that change can only go so far. And some of those innovations — couches, open-plan offices, flexible hours — have since become common features of office life. (Others, like job-sharing and child care, should have.) But workers aren’t necessarily happier. As David Kotz and Karen Pfeifer of Northampton, MA noted, “Nine to Five” is both “in sync with the current critique of capitalism” and “realistic about the limits of reform of capitalism.”Now, as many of us wonder if we’ll ever see the inside of an office again, we can recognize what has and hasn’t changed.As one of the original organizers of 9to5, Organization for Women Office Workers in Boston (1973) and a former office worker myself, I cannot imagine labeling the hit movie “9to5” as being dated! Jane Fonda spent many hours talking with our members around the country about life in the office. The movie may have exaggerated their stories, but only slightly! I’d say “9to5” the movie was ahead of its time in calling out the boss and showing what can happen when women workers organize. It continues to be relevant today in the gig economy, among restaurant workers, at Amazon, among those engaged in the fight for a $15 minimum wage, etc. Low pay? Check. Poor benefits for working families? Check. Sexual harassment? Check and check! The list goes on. — Janet Selcer, BostonWhat annoyed me this time (and never before) was that Franklin Hart got away with his embezzlement. I am sick of white collar criminals and grifters and he is just one more! Brazil doesn’t seem like much punishment. Maybe if they sent him to the branch office in Siberia? Or how about if he just got caught and went to jail? — Leslie H. Nicoll (via email) More

On the night of March 11, as the coronavirus clamped down on cultural life, the actor Zachary Quinto was in the audience at a Broadway theater, watching the recent revival of “West Side Story.”“There was something in the air that felt like a cloud was descending,” Quinto recalled, “but it hadn’t yet landed.”He’d been planning to see a bevy of shows: “Caroline, or Change,” “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” …“I was in the starter block to go on a marathon,” he said.It didn’t happen: Broadway shut down the next day.Soon after, Quinto left the city to stay with friends in the Hamptons. He filled the cultural void with movies, books and “Take Me to the World,” the Stephen Sondheim tribute that was livestreamed in April (“I just, from beginning to end, watched that without even getting up once”).Quinto, known for playing the sharp-minded (and ear-tipped) Spock in the most recent “Star Trek” movies, is now on TV in the second season of AMC’s “NOS4A2,” a supernatural drama that casts him as an age-shifting villain who consumes the souls of children. Over the phone late last month, he discussed the cultural content he consumed during quarantine weekends in the Hamptons (he’s since relocated to Los Angeles). These are edited excerpts from the conversation.Friday NightI’m quarantining with some friends who have more 9-to-5 schedules, so the weekends are times when we can all congregate a little more freely. We rewatched “Y Tu Mamá También.” We rewatched “Talk to Her” — Almodóvar is one of my favorite filmmakers of all time. I watched this really amazing Chinese film called “Ash Is Purest White.” We rewatched “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.”I’ve gone back and revisited some old favorite films, like “Magnolia.” I haven’t seen it in a long time. [What stood out to me this time] was the kind of interconnectivity, the universality of mortality, which is a huge theme in that film, and something that a lot more people have been forced to consider and reconcile lately.I definitely watch “[RuPaul’s] Drag Race” every week. I witness so much healing on that show, and so many young people stepping into themselves and creating paths for themselves for success that never would have existed otherwise.Saturday MorningI wake up usually between 8:30 and 9. I let the dogs out, run around, feed them. I have a 10-year-old terrier mix named Skunk — he’s a little guy, like 20 pounds. And then in January, when I was in Los Angeles, I found a dog on the street and took him in. He was at the time a three-month-old shepherd mix who was probably about 25 pounds — and now he’s a seven-month-old shepherd mix who’s pushing 60, 65 pounds. His name’s River.Meditation, for me, is something that’s a nonnegotiable. I do it first thing when I wake up. Even when I don’t have time, I make time for it. Twice a day. At the minimum, my sessions are 20 minutes. And then depending on what kind of a program I’m doing that day, they can go as long as 55 minutes.On the weekends there’s always music playing in the morning. There are a number of people here, so you never know who will connect to the speaker and just start playing music. We try to keep things mellow around the house. So a lot of Joni Mitchell. My friend is really into Ethiopian music. There’s an artist whose name is Hailu Mergia — I’ve been listening to a radio playlist of that music. I love Maggie Rogers. I love stuff that’s thought provoking but also kind of mellow. Perfume Genius’s new album is genius. He embraces the full range of human experience in his music. Resonance is the thing that any artist wants to awaken in somebody, identification with their point of view and their way of communication — and his way of communication musically is something that really awakens a lot of parts of me.Saturday AfternoonAnd then some kind of excursion on a Saturday to the beach, or we’ll go on a hike. It’s always kind of centered around the dogs.We might throw a game of Monopoly in there. I’ll play the banjo at some point during the day, invariably. I’ve been playing for about six years. I now do at least one lesson a week with my teacher. We video-chat, which is actually a really great format for it.Saturday NightA lot of cooking happens Monday through Friday, and then usually at least one night of the weekend we’ll order food in and pick it up. That’s also a part of really wanting to support local businesses.Every night is about watching something. I’ve been diving into “The Last Dance,” that Michael Jordan documentary. I thought it was beautifully done and really compelling — the humanity mixed with the kind of supernatural talent that he possessed, but also that his teammates possessed. I didn’t expect to fall so deeply for it.Any Given Sunday (or Saturday?)The days do tend to blur together. If we’re not hiking or something, some kind of exercise vibe is important to stay connected and active. I love what’s emerging in these online communities, like Ryan Heffington’s Sweatfest.I’ve tried to carve out time to get to books that I either have wanted to read or have been carrying around in my backpack with me for months. Right now, I’m reading “Norwegian Wood” by Haruki Murakami. He’s such a fascinating, meticulous, thoughtful, imaginative writer. Reading him has opened me up to different aspects of my own psyche and my own kind of spiritual perspective in ways that I wouldn’t have necessarily imagined.My next effort is going to be Samantha Power’s memoir, “The Education of an Idealist.” I’ve always been a real admirer of hers. And in line with my meditation stuff is some reading that I’ve been doing of old Indian texts like the Ramayana and Mahabharata.Sunday, 10 p.m.There remains that kind of “Sunday night, school night” awareness. I think around Sunday night at 10 o’clock, everybody starts to shift back into, “Oh, we should probably start winding this down.” A lot of my life has been — when I’m not on set for something or in rehearsal for something — there’s a lot of free-form nature to my days. I like the freedom. But I do think there’s something nice about resetting the clock each week.Starting a New WeekI had a rule early in quarantine, which was “no sweatpants before 6 p.m.” Sometimes I adhere to that rule, and then other times I’m taking Zoom meetings at 2:30 in sweatpants and a T-shirt. The most important thing is that we set goals for ourselves, and then we also understand that we’re human, and that we’re humans experiencing an unprecedented, unimaginably challenging time right now, universally. And the more we can love ourselves and be patient with ourselves and learn from ourselves through this, the better off we’ll all be when we come out of it. More

Shortly before turning 30, Freddy McConnell, a freelance journalist who has worked at The Guardian, made the decision to bear a child. In “Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave Birth,” McConnell, who is transgender, explains that he saw the decision to carry the pregnancy himself as “the pragmatic thing to do.”Perhaps less obviously pragmatic is undergoing that experience under the observation of a movie crew. With his newspaper involved in the production, McConnell invited the filmmaker Jeanie Finlay to follow him through the process. (Finlay is currently the subject of a Museum of the Moving Image retrospective that will play virtually through July 2.) He told the paper that he felt a responsibility to share the story.[embedded content]What Finlay absorbingly captures is far more than an ordinary pregnancy. She is present as the prospect of parenthood alters the dynamic between McConnell and his partner, C.J., who initially wants to co-parent with him. (“We’re discovering that we were quite different and didn’t know each other that well,” McConnell explains after C.J. decides not to be involved. In the sort of moment that suggests a potentially intriguing interplay between director and subject, he asks if Finlay has seen C.J. since the separation.)McConnell has a strained relationship with his father and relays news of the pregnancy to him by email, writing that he’s afraid of how he would react in person.Most crucially, Finlay trails McConnell as the pregnancy alters his sense of who he is, ushering in what he describes as a “total loss of myself.” After the cessation of testosterone treatments starts changing his body, he finds that he reverts to old, more concealing ways of dressing. Even before a pregnancy is confirmed, he begins thinking more of his previous name and pronouns.Keeping notes on his pregnancy on standard forms, he crosses out “women,” “mothers,” “her” and “she,” an inscribing experience that he says feels “pretty brutal.” McConnell confesses that even well-meaning cisgender mothers who have shared recollections of pregnancy have made him want to say, “No, it’s not the same.”“Seahorse” is the sort of documentary that gains its interest less from its technique than from its subject, and from the fact that the filmmaker was present at the right time. Articulate, reflective and unhesitant about getting personal, McConnell makes for a complicated character study.Although he gave birth to a son in 2018, his story is hardly over, and extends beyond the timeline in the film. In April, The New York Times reported that McConnell lost an appeal to be registered as the boy’s father, not mother. On April 29, he wrote that he was applying to take the case to Britain’s highest court.Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave BirthNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 31 minutes. Rent or buy on Amazon, iTunes and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More