Corrosion of Male Hegemony in Cinema:
Re-vision of Desire
Alex Lindsay
ENGL-260
3-15-14
For: Dr. Babli Sinha
Steven Shainberg’s offbeat indie dramedy Secretary offered audiences a glimpse into an
unconventional sexuality in the form of its fun couple’s discovery of each other. At the surface,
the film’s message is that love needn’t be soft and gentle, but beneath the cutesy gauze lurks a
powerful subversive force. Through its portrayal of an alternative romance, in which there was
indeed a dominant male and a submissive female (in accordance with the terms of the
patriarchy’s hold on intrapersonal relations and therefore cinema), but the film’s endearing
heroine changes the rules and makes it clear that a convergence of wills is occurring in this
romance; thus, Lee Holloway (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is servant only to her desires. Theorists have
long held that cinema was a male enterprise. The patriarchy manifests itself in the intrusive and
dominating ‘male gaze’ against the object on display for its amusement – the female body. I
submit that the maleness of cinema and the patriarchy’s grip on it have suffered attacks over
time. I submit that Secretary is an important landmark in the corrosion of cinema’s maleness.
In order to properly illustrate the issue and engage in fruitful argument, this analysis will
firstly, prove the long-standing maleness of cinema aided by Miriam Hansen and Linda
Williams. Secondly, present a defense of Secretary’s subversiveness aided by Linda Williams.
Thirdly, summarize and refute criticism from Susan Cook that Secretary and SnM as a whole
falls short of subversion, but rather falls in line with the normative order.
Hansen asserts that for the longest time, cinema has catered to a male audience, an
audience male – if not in sex – than in mindset. This can be attributed to cinema’s being another
appendage of an androcentric society. “… The classical Hollywood film perpetuates sexual
imbalance in the very conventions through which it engages its viewer as subject – its modes of
organizing vision and structuring narratives, its particular types of pleasure. Drawing on psychic
proclivities of voyeurism, fetishism and narcissism, Mulvey argues, these conventions depend
upon – and reproduce- the conventional polarity of the male as the agent of the look and the
image of woman as object of both spectacle and narrative. In aligning spectatorial pleasure with
a hierarchical system of sexual difference, classical American cinema inevitably entails what
Mulvey calls “a ‘masculinization’ of the spectator position, regardless of the actual sex (or
possible deviance of any real live moviegoer.” (Hansen, Mulvey quoted, 249). This passage
from Hansen illustrates that the very design of cinema favored a set of perverse psychic delights,
which fed into the aura of androcentrism, thus aligning spectatordom with masculinity.
Hansen asserts that spectatorship was aligned with masculinity, which rendered
practically nil feminine viewing pleasure. Williams states that this was corroded by the
reformulation of the rules in films she calls ‘genres of excess’ (Horror, Melodrama and
Pornography), which I shall explore later. The androcentrism of cinema began corroding far
earlier than Williams’ days in female reception of the lovely Rudolph Valentino. “The figure of
the male as erotic object undeniably set into play fetishistic and voyeuristic mechanisms,
accompanied – most strikingly in the case of Valentino – by a feminization of the actor’s
persona.” (Hansen, 252). Hansen states that the inscrutable beauty of Rudolph Valentino
prompted female viewers to reverse the polarity of the male gaze dominating a female subject by
looking upon it, to a female gaze dominating a male subject by looking upon it. That feminine
desire had a place in the cinema, that the female gaze had the power to dominate just as the male
gaze did, marked the beginning of the corrosion of cinema’s maleness.
The corrosion of the androcentrism in cinema marked the corrosion of
Linda Williams argues that the genres of excess were catered to a male set of pleasures
up until they began to offer an oscillation between active male and passive female poles of
identification. “(W)ith pornography aimed, presumably, at active men and melodramatic
weepies aimed, presumably, at passive women, and with contemporary gross-out horror aimed at
adolescents… in each of these genres, the bodies of women figured on the screen have
functioned traditionally as the primary embodiments of pleasure, fear, and pain.” (Williams,
605). The status quo of the genre placed women at the mercy of male tormentors in horror,
uncaring lovers in melodrama, and men in pornography. Naturally, (as I have drawn from
Hansen) spectators are led to identify as male precisely by being spectators. However, Williams
argues that this notion of the female subjugated by the dominant male gaze combusts when
presented with a female tormentor, a masochist or a tomboy. “This argument holds that when
the girl-victim of a film like Halloween finally grabs the phallic knife, or ax, or chain saw to turn
the tables on the monster-killer, that viewer identification shifts from an “abject terror gendered
feminine” to an active power with bisexual components.” (Williams, 609). Through this
‘flipping the table’ on cinema’s maleness by placing women in positions of power typically
occupied by men, female agency is not parroting male agency as it is presenting itself a power all
its own. “… The more useful lesson might be to see what this new fluidity and oscillation
permits in the construction of feminine viewing pleasures once thought not to exist at all.”
(Williams, 611).
Williams and Hansen have established that the patriarchy’s grip on cinema has been
under attack by subversive forces as feminine agency finds footholds in its Rudolph Valentinos
and Jamie Lee Curtises. Secretary is next in line in salvos against the long-standing dominion.
Secretary was highly polarizing to its critics. The reception of the film was largely positive. Its
proponents claimed (on average) that it represented the difficult subject of SnM with great tact
and dignity. Its opponents argued that it reinforced the gender roles in desire. I submit that
Secretary’s portrayal of the dominant and submissive in a mutual contract and convergence of
wills complicates cinema’s androcentrism. The scene in which James Spader’s character first
takes a step towards establishing their unconventional relationship reveals the vulnerability and
agency of both parties and an implicit “Yes” following palatable tension (43:11). The scene
begins with Spader’s character barging into Lee’s space, with another typo’d letter in hand. He
gets what would be uncomfortably close to her in other circumstances and berates her. He walks
down the hallway, out of sight and hears Lee erupt in sniffling, choking back tears. Grey is
visibly moved by Lee’s anguish. He weighs his options in his mind – whether the reward of a
potential spark with Lee is worth the risk. Grey’s trepidation introduces the mutual vulnerability
present in a healthy relationship and discredits the power of the male in cinema. Both Lee and
Grey are equally weak and strong in this scene. The camera cuts between the two of them,
isolating their faces. Their trepidation is visible. When the camera next cuts back to Lee, she
has ceased sniffling and looks down the hallway, where Grey once stood. Her eyes still misty,
Lee feels the rush of taking Grey’s commands, being beneath him, but at once – it hurts. The
two resolve to play their cards. The next scene, the infamous punishment scene, takes place in
Grey’s office.
Following from the subtle display of mutual agency and vulnerability on the characters’
faces, it would serve to analyze the punishment scene, in which Lee’s and Grey’s agency comes
to fruition. When Grey first commands Lee to bend over the desk to read the letter, she is
hesitant. Her puzzled “I don’t understand.” is followed by Grey’s rough assurance “There’s
nothing to understand.”. The dialogue and action leaves room for both characters to continue
testing the waters or else cut and run. Lee resolves that she does want it to continue, thus
displaying the power she has A. Over herself, B. Over Grey. Yes! Gyllenhaal’s subtle touches
of hesitation in her movements as she assumes the position reveals uncertainty whether this will
be what she wants it to be – thus Grey is a means to an end for her. Following the first smack on
the rear is the final check of consent; a hesitant “Umm.” her voice audibly shaking. Grey
responds “Ms. Holloway – read.” in a whisper – his upper lip is twitching. The mutual
vulnerability of the pair indicates that the two only have power over each other by granting the
other license. Either of them could stop the ‘game’ at any time, but chose not to. To reinforce
Lee’s independence, in a later scene when Grey and Lee role-play that she is being hired again
that Grey can deny her (1:20:14). Lee calls “Time out!” and bares her soul to Grey. In deciding
what the limit was to what she would permit Grey to do to her, Lee reveals that the game they
play is as much in her hands as Grey’s. Lee’s power is also manifested in her subtle defiances,
such as leaving a dead earthworm in Grey’s office in the middle of the film to prompt a
‘punishment’ and at the (regrettably saccharine) ending with a cockroach in the sheets. That
Lee’s agency presents itself in the position of the sexual submissive gives testament to every
discredit to the gender of cinema that the sexualization of Rudolph Valentino had. The
conventional definitions of masculine power are undermined and discredited through Lee’s
seeking her own sexual liberation.
I submit that the genres of excess have experienced the rise of a new bisexual
identification as well as a redefinition of the female’s position in cinema. Secretary draws from
the subcultures of two genres of excess, namely melodrama and pornography. The rom-com has
become the newest and most prevalent incarnation of the melodrama in modern day, Secretary’s
semi-official designation as a ‘dramedy’ places it into that subculture. And for incorporating
elements of SnM, it draws from the seedy, yet useful subculture of pornography. Williams
asserts that the bodies of women have long served male desires in these genres, whether to be
tortured (in porn or horror) and melodrama to a lesser extent, but women nonetheless are
victimized in those films as well. “(‘The Body Genres’) hinge on the spectacle of the ‘sexually
saturated’ female body, and each offers what many feminist critics would agree to be spectacles
of feminine victimization.” (Williams, 608). The long-standing tradition of cinema has been the
intrusive male gaze, under which the female body is spectacle and a powerful catalyst for
identification. Secretary is a piece of this tradition of subversion of the androcentric hegemony
in cinema which began with the female gaze dominating Rudolph Valentino.
The sexual politics involved in Secretary’s particular brand of subversion follow from the
sexual submissive role, which has long been an out-yet-in for escaping the strictures of the
patriarchy. Williams defends the masochist in SnM pornography, stating that through playing by
the rules of the hegemony, the lady gets exactly what she wants. “In sadomasochistic
pornography and in melodramatic women’s weepies, feminine subject positions appear to be
constructed which achieve a modicum of power and pleasure within the given limits of
patriarchal constraints on women. It is worth notes as well that non-sadomasochistic
pornography has historically been one of the few types of popular film that has not punished
women for actively pursuing sexual pleasure.” (Williams, 610). Secretary takes this subversion
a step further with Lee changing the rules, deciding which of Grey’s commands she will and will
not comply with and placing dead insects about Grey’s domain to spark his ire. Gyllenhaal’s
character does not cloak her agency in a pretext of passivity as her predecessors have. Every
step of her relationship with Grey is within her control, thus the power relations of gender are
complicated. Both parties have clear agency. “… The more useful lesson might be to see what
this new fluidity and oscillation permits the construction of feminine viewing pleasures once
thought not to exist at all.” (Williams, 611).
To reinforce my argument, I shall entertain an opposing argument. Susan Cook writes
that all of SnM very well has the power to challenge the balance of power between the genders
but all it really achieves is a macabre play with the existing order. Cook’s critique of Secretary
follows from her critique of all SnM. She asserts that SnM only plays with the roles, but
ultimately does not change or challenge a damned thing. “Anne McClintock observes the SnM’s
parodic critique is unsatisfying: commercial SnM’s ‘theater of risk inhabits the perilous border of
transgression,’ she writes, but caught between mimesis and catharsis, SnM works by “neither
replication social power nor finally subverting it.” McClintock’s claim is that commercial SnM
can, through its parodic treatment of gender roles, transgressively cross or unsettle the regulating
limits established by the social order, but that it ultimately fails to alter the power relations it
critiques. McClintock suggests that SnM aspires towards subversive change; what it achieves is
transgressive play.” (Cook, 121-22). Her chief gripe with SnM is that it offers a pseudo-sanctum
within the rules of the androcentric and heteronormative culture. “… this threat is powerful only
insofar as it involves performing gendered opposites: in other words, SnM transgression seems to
reaffirm gender categories through opposition with women dominating and men submitting.”
(Cook, 126).
I argue that SnM is not a reconfiguration of boundaries restricted to a trading of spheres
(who dominates/who submits). I believe Cook is oversimplifying the roles in SnM relations. I
don’t believe that the submissive is necessarily feminized and the dominant is not necessarily
masculine. Cook’s argument features another important caveat mined from Linda Singer – that
SnM only has the aura of liberation and subversion, rather than being genuinely subversive
because the hierarchy of cultural norms (including gender stratification) allow it to exist. “This
commodified transgression does not truly unsettle any social norms or sexual taboos: writing of
capitalism and sex, Lind Singer places SnM in the category of “specialized sexualities” that are
endlessly proliferated by capitalism economy to “produce a kind of compensatory optimism…
the market’s way of producing a ‘revolutionary’ development, and sustaining a sense of apparent
freedom through the proliferation of a range of erotic options, styles and scenes.” (Cook, quoting
Singer, 125). I argue that SnM are not always cut-and-dry dominant owning a submissive, thus
the passive female and active male merely switch places or else hyperbolize the norms. I don’t
see that. Speaking from experience, I tend to exchange dominance with my partners. When my
(female) partner is dominating me, I don’t feel as though she’s playing the charade of a male in a
position of power. For the female gaze can subjugate as well, annihilating all masculinity long
associated with spectatordom and visual subjugation of the thing perceived. The female gaze
brings a fundamentally female desire to the equation, thus both the masculine and feminine poles
are on equal footing. Equally strong and equally weak.
Secretary is part of a tradition of the subversion of the maleness of cinema. Through its
use of the volatile subject of dominant-submissive SnM relations, it corrodes the binaries of
power in cinema and society as a whole. It presents the relationship of its couple as a joint
venture, rather than an active male acting on a passive female. Shainberg takes great care to
reveal the agency which both the characters bring to the table. Though gender equality has a
long way to go before it comes to fruition, Secretary is an important step in the progression to
wresting an aspect of society from androcentric hegemony.
Hansen, Mirriam, Babel and Babylon: Spectatorship in American Silent Film, Harvard
University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1991
Cook, Susan E., Subversion Without Limits: From Secretary’s Transgressive S&M to Exquisite
Corpse’s Subversive Sadomasochism, from Discourse, Winter 2006
Ed. Leo Braudy, Ed. Marshall Cohen, Film Theory and Criticism, Oxford University Press,
Oxford New York, 2009

Secretary as Subversive Text

  • 1.
    Corrosion of MaleHegemony in Cinema: Re-vision of Desire Alex Lindsay ENGL-260 3-15-14 For: Dr. Babli Sinha Steven Shainberg’s offbeat indie dramedy Secretary offered audiences a glimpse into an unconventional sexuality in the form of its fun couple’s discovery of each other. At the surface, the film’s message is that love needn’t be soft and gentle, but beneath the cutesy gauze lurks a powerful subversive force. Through its portrayal of an alternative romance, in which there was indeed a dominant male and a submissive female (in accordance with the terms of the patriarchy’s hold on intrapersonal relations and therefore cinema), but the film’s endearing heroine changes the rules and makes it clear that a convergence of wills is occurring in this romance; thus, Lee Holloway (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is servant only to her desires. Theorists have long held that cinema was a male enterprise. The patriarchy manifests itself in the intrusive and dominating ‘male gaze’ against the object on display for its amusement – the female body. I submit that the maleness of cinema and the patriarchy’s grip on it have suffered attacks over time. I submit that Secretary is an important landmark in the corrosion of cinema’s maleness. In order to properly illustrate the issue and engage in fruitful argument, this analysis will firstly, prove the long-standing maleness of cinema aided by Miriam Hansen and Linda Williams. Secondly, present a defense of Secretary’s subversiveness aided by Linda Williams. Thirdly, summarize and refute criticism from Susan Cook that Secretary and SnM as a whole falls short of subversion, but rather falls in line with the normative order. Hansen asserts that for the longest time, cinema has catered to a male audience, an audience male – if not in sex – than in mindset. This can be attributed to cinema’s being another appendage of an androcentric society. “… The classical Hollywood film perpetuates sexual
  • 2.
    imbalance in thevery conventions through which it engages its viewer as subject – its modes of organizing vision and structuring narratives, its particular types of pleasure. Drawing on psychic proclivities of voyeurism, fetishism and narcissism, Mulvey argues, these conventions depend upon – and reproduce- the conventional polarity of the male as the agent of the look and the image of woman as object of both spectacle and narrative. In aligning spectatorial pleasure with a hierarchical system of sexual difference, classical American cinema inevitably entails what Mulvey calls “a ‘masculinization’ of the spectator position, regardless of the actual sex (or possible deviance of any real live moviegoer.” (Hansen, Mulvey quoted, 249). This passage from Hansen illustrates that the very design of cinema favored a set of perverse psychic delights, which fed into the aura of androcentrism, thus aligning spectatordom with masculinity. Hansen asserts that spectatorship was aligned with masculinity, which rendered practically nil feminine viewing pleasure. Williams states that this was corroded by the reformulation of the rules in films she calls ‘genres of excess’ (Horror, Melodrama and Pornography), which I shall explore later. The androcentrism of cinema began corroding far earlier than Williams’ days in female reception of the lovely Rudolph Valentino. “The figure of the male as erotic object undeniably set into play fetishistic and voyeuristic mechanisms, accompanied – most strikingly in the case of Valentino – by a feminization of the actor’s persona.” (Hansen, 252). Hansen states that the inscrutable beauty of Rudolph Valentino prompted female viewers to reverse the polarity of the male gaze dominating a female subject by looking upon it, to a female gaze dominating a male subject by looking upon it. That feminine desire had a place in the cinema, that the female gaze had the power to dominate just as the male gaze did, marked the beginning of the corrosion of cinema’s maleness. The corrosion of the androcentrism in cinema marked the corrosion of
  • 3.
    Linda Williams arguesthat the genres of excess were catered to a male set of pleasures up until they began to offer an oscillation between active male and passive female poles of identification. “(W)ith pornography aimed, presumably, at active men and melodramatic weepies aimed, presumably, at passive women, and with contemporary gross-out horror aimed at adolescents… in each of these genres, the bodies of women figured on the screen have functioned traditionally as the primary embodiments of pleasure, fear, and pain.” (Williams, 605). The status quo of the genre placed women at the mercy of male tormentors in horror, uncaring lovers in melodrama, and men in pornography. Naturally, (as I have drawn from Hansen) spectators are led to identify as male precisely by being spectators. However, Williams argues that this notion of the female subjugated by the dominant male gaze combusts when presented with a female tormentor, a masochist or a tomboy. “This argument holds that when the girl-victim of a film like Halloween finally grabs the phallic knife, or ax, or chain saw to turn the tables on the monster-killer, that viewer identification shifts from an “abject terror gendered feminine” to an active power with bisexual components.” (Williams, 609). Through this ‘flipping the table’ on cinema’s maleness by placing women in positions of power typically occupied by men, female agency is not parroting male agency as it is presenting itself a power all its own. “… The more useful lesson might be to see what this new fluidity and oscillation permits in the construction of feminine viewing pleasures once thought not to exist at all.” (Williams, 611). Williams and Hansen have established that the patriarchy’s grip on cinema has been under attack by subversive forces as feminine agency finds footholds in its Rudolph Valentinos and Jamie Lee Curtises. Secretary is next in line in salvos against the long-standing dominion. Secretary was highly polarizing to its critics. The reception of the film was largely positive. Its
  • 4.
    proponents claimed (onaverage) that it represented the difficult subject of SnM with great tact and dignity. Its opponents argued that it reinforced the gender roles in desire. I submit that Secretary’s portrayal of the dominant and submissive in a mutual contract and convergence of wills complicates cinema’s androcentrism. The scene in which James Spader’s character first takes a step towards establishing their unconventional relationship reveals the vulnerability and agency of both parties and an implicit “Yes” following palatable tension (43:11). The scene begins with Spader’s character barging into Lee’s space, with another typo’d letter in hand. He gets what would be uncomfortably close to her in other circumstances and berates her. He walks down the hallway, out of sight and hears Lee erupt in sniffling, choking back tears. Grey is visibly moved by Lee’s anguish. He weighs his options in his mind – whether the reward of a potential spark with Lee is worth the risk. Grey’s trepidation introduces the mutual vulnerability present in a healthy relationship and discredits the power of the male in cinema. Both Lee and Grey are equally weak and strong in this scene. The camera cuts between the two of them, isolating their faces. Their trepidation is visible. When the camera next cuts back to Lee, she has ceased sniffling and looks down the hallway, where Grey once stood. Her eyes still misty, Lee feels the rush of taking Grey’s commands, being beneath him, but at once – it hurts. The two resolve to play their cards. The next scene, the infamous punishment scene, takes place in Grey’s office. Following from the subtle display of mutual agency and vulnerability on the characters’ faces, it would serve to analyze the punishment scene, in which Lee’s and Grey’s agency comes to fruition. When Grey first commands Lee to bend over the desk to read the letter, she is hesitant. Her puzzled “I don’t understand.” is followed by Grey’s rough assurance “There’s nothing to understand.”. The dialogue and action leaves room for both characters to continue
  • 5.
    testing the watersor else cut and run. Lee resolves that she does want it to continue, thus displaying the power she has A. Over herself, B. Over Grey. Yes! Gyllenhaal’s subtle touches of hesitation in her movements as she assumes the position reveals uncertainty whether this will be what she wants it to be – thus Grey is a means to an end for her. Following the first smack on the rear is the final check of consent; a hesitant “Umm.” her voice audibly shaking. Grey responds “Ms. Holloway – read.” in a whisper – his upper lip is twitching. The mutual vulnerability of the pair indicates that the two only have power over each other by granting the other license. Either of them could stop the ‘game’ at any time, but chose not to. To reinforce Lee’s independence, in a later scene when Grey and Lee role-play that she is being hired again that Grey can deny her (1:20:14). Lee calls “Time out!” and bares her soul to Grey. In deciding what the limit was to what she would permit Grey to do to her, Lee reveals that the game they play is as much in her hands as Grey’s. Lee’s power is also manifested in her subtle defiances, such as leaving a dead earthworm in Grey’s office in the middle of the film to prompt a ‘punishment’ and at the (regrettably saccharine) ending with a cockroach in the sheets. That Lee’s agency presents itself in the position of the sexual submissive gives testament to every discredit to the gender of cinema that the sexualization of Rudolph Valentino had. The conventional definitions of masculine power are undermined and discredited through Lee’s seeking her own sexual liberation. I submit that the genres of excess have experienced the rise of a new bisexual identification as well as a redefinition of the female’s position in cinema. Secretary draws from the subcultures of two genres of excess, namely melodrama and pornography. The rom-com has become the newest and most prevalent incarnation of the melodrama in modern day, Secretary’s semi-official designation as a ‘dramedy’ places it into that subculture. And for incorporating
  • 6.
    elements of SnM,it draws from the seedy, yet useful subculture of pornography. Williams asserts that the bodies of women have long served male desires in these genres, whether to be tortured (in porn or horror) and melodrama to a lesser extent, but women nonetheless are victimized in those films as well. “(‘The Body Genres’) hinge on the spectacle of the ‘sexually saturated’ female body, and each offers what many feminist critics would agree to be spectacles of feminine victimization.” (Williams, 608). The long-standing tradition of cinema has been the intrusive male gaze, under which the female body is spectacle and a powerful catalyst for identification. Secretary is a piece of this tradition of subversion of the androcentric hegemony in cinema which began with the female gaze dominating Rudolph Valentino. The sexual politics involved in Secretary’s particular brand of subversion follow from the sexual submissive role, which has long been an out-yet-in for escaping the strictures of the patriarchy. Williams defends the masochist in SnM pornography, stating that through playing by the rules of the hegemony, the lady gets exactly what she wants. “In sadomasochistic pornography and in melodramatic women’s weepies, feminine subject positions appear to be constructed which achieve a modicum of power and pleasure within the given limits of patriarchal constraints on women. It is worth notes as well that non-sadomasochistic pornography has historically been one of the few types of popular film that has not punished women for actively pursuing sexual pleasure.” (Williams, 610). Secretary takes this subversion a step further with Lee changing the rules, deciding which of Grey’s commands she will and will not comply with and placing dead insects about Grey’s domain to spark his ire. Gyllenhaal’s character does not cloak her agency in a pretext of passivity as her predecessors have. Every step of her relationship with Grey is within her control, thus the power relations of gender are complicated. Both parties have clear agency. “… The more useful lesson might be to see what
  • 7.
    this new fluidityand oscillation permits the construction of feminine viewing pleasures once thought not to exist at all.” (Williams, 611). To reinforce my argument, I shall entertain an opposing argument. Susan Cook writes that all of SnM very well has the power to challenge the balance of power between the genders but all it really achieves is a macabre play with the existing order. Cook’s critique of Secretary follows from her critique of all SnM. She asserts that SnM only plays with the roles, but ultimately does not change or challenge a damned thing. “Anne McClintock observes the SnM’s parodic critique is unsatisfying: commercial SnM’s ‘theater of risk inhabits the perilous border of transgression,’ she writes, but caught between mimesis and catharsis, SnM works by “neither replication social power nor finally subverting it.” McClintock’s claim is that commercial SnM can, through its parodic treatment of gender roles, transgressively cross or unsettle the regulating limits established by the social order, but that it ultimately fails to alter the power relations it critiques. McClintock suggests that SnM aspires towards subversive change; what it achieves is transgressive play.” (Cook, 121-22). Her chief gripe with SnM is that it offers a pseudo-sanctum within the rules of the androcentric and heteronormative culture. “… this threat is powerful only insofar as it involves performing gendered opposites: in other words, SnM transgression seems to reaffirm gender categories through opposition with women dominating and men submitting.” (Cook, 126). I argue that SnM is not a reconfiguration of boundaries restricted to a trading of spheres (who dominates/who submits). I believe Cook is oversimplifying the roles in SnM relations. I don’t believe that the submissive is necessarily feminized and the dominant is not necessarily masculine. Cook’s argument features another important caveat mined from Linda Singer – that SnM only has the aura of liberation and subversion, rather than being genuinely subversive
  • 8.
    because the hierarchyof cultural norms (including gender stratification) allow it to exist. “This commodified transgression does not truly unsettle any social norms or sexual taboos: writing of capitalism and sex, Lind Singer places SnM in the category of “specialized sexualities” that are endlessly proliferated by capitalism economy to “produce a kind of compensatory optimism… the market’s way of producing a ‘revolutionary’ development, and sustaining a sense of apparent freedom through the proliferation of a range of erotic options, styles and scenes.” (Cook, quoting Singer, 125). I argue that SnM are not always cut-and-dry dominant owning a submissive, thus the passive female and active male merely switch places or else hyperbolize the norms. I don’t see that. Speaking from experience, I tend to exchange dominance with my partners. When my (female) partner is dominating me, I don’t feel as though she’s playing the charade of a male in a position of power. For the female gaze can subjugate as well, annihilating all masculinity long associated with spectatordom and visual subjugation of the thing perceived. The female gaze brings a fundamentally female desire to the equation, thus both the masculine and feminine poles are on equal footing. Equally strong and equally weak. Secretary is part of a tradition of the subversion of the maleness of cinema. Through its use of the volatile subject of dominant-submissive SnM relations, it corrodes the binaries of power in cinema and society as a whole. It presents the relationship of its couple as a joint venture, rather than an active male acting on a passive female. Shainberg takes great care to reveal the agency which both the characters bring to the table. Though gender equality has a long way to go before it comes to fruition, Secretary is an important step in the progression to wresting an aspect of society from androcentric hegemony.
  • 9.
    Hansen, Mirriam, Babeland Babylon: Spectatorship in American Silent Film, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1991 Cook, Susan E., Subversion Without Limits: From Secretary’s Transgressive S&M to Exquisite Corpse’s Subversive Sadomasochism, from Discourse, Winter 2006 Ed. Leo Braudy, Ed. Marshall Cohen, Film Theory and Criticism, Oxford University Press, Oxford New York, 2009