James Spader

  • Critical Care (1997)

    Critical Care (1997)

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) There’s something fantastically creepy about Critical Care’s darkly comic approach to the American medical system, so advanced that it can keep anyone alive but only if the money is there. James Spader plays a young doctor who learns the real world in between a cynical mentor and two sisters trying to seduce him into pulling the plug on their dearest, richest father. Under the direction of a sardonic Sidney Lumet, the film never cracks a smile and so, perhaps, doesn’t tip its hand as to whether it’s really a comedy. The clinical set design borrowing (still) from science fiction doesn’t necessarily make things any funnier, although if you’re not cracking a smile at the seduction scenes, then you may not be paying attention. The god complex of doctors is fully scrutinized and the deeply unhealthy relationship between patient care and their financial means also goes under the microscope. While Critical Care was not a commercial success, it’s got an interesting cast that becomes stronger with time. Just have a look at these names: Kyra Sedgwick, Helen Mirren, Anne Bancroft, Albert Brooks (terrific and terrifying), Jeffrey Wright, Margo Martindale, Wallace Shawn, Colm Feore… that’s a nice cast. The film is not without missteps and missed opportunities: the move to a courtroom late in the film breaks its spatial unity, and I’m not sure that all of its thematic opportunities have been equally well explored. But Critical Care is still acerbic enough to classify as a bit of an overlooked film — not a classic, not even a gem, but something surprising enough to be worth a look if deadpan comedies with a bitter edge have any appeal.

  • Wolf (1994)

    Wolf (1994)

    (In French, On TV, May 2021) Jack Nicholson plays a mild-mannered book editor who becomes a werewolf in romantic horror Wolf and, well, that’s really all you need to know. Now, I’m not going to suggest that Wolf is your run-of-the-mill Hollywood film — helmed by Mike Nichols (in an atypical choice given his filmography) and co-written by Elaine May (making this a reunion between a legendary creative pair), it’s a blend of very light horror with romance, drama and some comedy as well. It doesn’t really all fit together, but the attempt is both more restrained (in horror) and more ambitious (in drama) than what used to be shown in the mid-1990s — although considering the evolution of genre-crossing since then, the premise may be less special nowadays. Michelle Pfeiffer does add a lot, as does James Spader as the antagonist, but this is really Nicholson’s occasion. It does get silly from time to time—watching near-sixty-something Jack hunt a deer with his new lycanthropic powers can’t be otherwise—but Nichols’ sure-footed direction helps ground the film where a less-experienced director may have flopped. For a long-time Science Fiction reader such as myself, there’s a big surprise in the editorial boardroom scenes — the shelves behind the characters are filled with early-1990s Tor hardcovers, many of which I have on my own shelves. The Tor logo is immediately recognizable on the book spines, and Tor founder-publisher Tom Doherty is credited at the end of the credit, most likely for lending use of his offices as a shooting location — although it’s arguably even weirder to see the inside of Los Angeles’ famous Bradbury building being used to portray a Manhattan-based publisher. Still, back to the basics: Wolf isn’t particularly memorable or striking, but it does have just enough weirdness to it to make it a decent watch even today. It’s not quite “the same boring werewolf movie” it could have been even if it doesn’t quite manage to become something special.

  • Less than Zero (1987)

    Less than Zero (1987)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2019) If you’re looking for a film that exemplifies some of the worst excesses of the 1980s, Less than Zero would be a good way to start. Taking place among the privileged but disaffected youth of the Los Angeles rich, it reduces young adulthood to a meaningless series of parties, hook-ups and endless lines of cocaine. The more cynical will point at the film’s pedigree, traced back to a semiautobiographical novel written by a young L.A. native, and wonder how much of the novel appealed to the Hollywood studio executive culture. No matter how it came to be, though, Less than Zero is not the most uplifting film out there. While it ultimately pays some sort of acknowledgement at drugs being bad (killing off a main character to make the point), it does take place in this dispiriting environment of meaningless hedonism and rampant abuse. Still, there are a few things worth noticing here and there: Jamie Gertz frequently looks amazing (A reminder: I came of age in the big-hair late 1980s), while Robert Downey Jr. has an ironic role as a drug-addled young man. James Spader also has an early role as the film’s remorseless antagonist drug dealer. The indignation of the film rings a bit false considering how thoroughly it wallows in filth, but that was Beverly Hills in the 1980s. It doesn’t help that the film doesn’t have much of a plot, seemingly content to repeat itself with different inflections. Less than Zero had, upon release, quite a reputation associated with it and the novel’s author, enfant terrible Bret Easton Ellis—hype and fear that their transgressive fiction would prove the new mainstream. That has largely been forgotten over the decades, but I’m not sure that this absence of hype has been kind to Less Than Zero: Stripped of the importance placed on it, it frequently feels like a performative melodrama meant to shock but otherwise hollow.

  • Stargate (1994)

    Stargate (1994)

    (Second viewing, on TV, July 2016) I remember seeing this in theatres (opening week!) and feeling let-down by the way a first act promising the mysteries of the universe led to an underwhelming film about primitive tribes rushing into revolution with our band of heroes. Watching it again twenty years later, with adjusted expectations, I’m still disappointed. I suppose that if it’s space opera that I want, the subsequent TV series and novelizations will suffice, but it doesn’t make the original film much better. And yet, there are a few things to note here: James Spader as a likable nerd, a prime-era Kurt Russell acting tough as a military operative, an early eye-catching role for Mili Avital, and primitive CGI being used in obvious ways. The familiar triumphant-rebellion angle is guaranteed to be rousing, and director Dean Emmerich does manage one or two interesting visuals. Historically, this Emmerich/Devlin production works best as a bit of a bigger-budget rehearsal for the more accomplished madness that was Independence Day. Even with good intentions, I still feel underwhelmed by Stargate.

  • Secretary (2002)

    Secretary (2002)

    (On DVD, January 2011) In certain circles, Secretary is often held up as a mainstream-friendly introduction to the dominant/submissive mindset –not your usual fare for romantic comedies, and certainly its most enjoyable trait.  Whatever shortcomings the film may have, at least it’s willing to celebrate its kinkiness: The main characters don’t play by the usual rules, and neither does writer-director Steven Shainberg: From the first few moments, Secretary delves deep into kink and makes it feel like a perfectly understandable lifestyle.  As a depressive young woman (Maggie Gyllenhall) falls under the spell of her unusual boss (James Spader, patron saint of proud deviants), the film becomes both stranger and more self-assured.  Despite the added spice of dominance and submission, the core of the film is a solid romance between two characters whose psychological issues complement well.  It’s fun, charming, often cute despite some unpleasant material and absolutely non-threatening.  There are a few problems with the third act, which seems to falter and lose control by going for an overly-public absurdist resolution.  Still, it manages a tricky balance for a difficult subject and it ends on a happy note that pleasantly wraps up everything.  Gyllenhall is mesmerizing in the lead role –nearly ten years later, this is still her career-best performance.  Secretary may not be a particularly great film, but it’s certainly striking, unexpected and confident in the ways it dares celebrate its lack of social convention.  No wonder many people still think of it fondly.