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The Assistant Speaks Volumes Through its’ Silence


I refuse to believe that The Assistant, unofficially dubbed ‘the Weinstein movie’, came to a theatre near me at this point in time purely by chance. The film got its official limited release last fall, but it’s much timelier (and a little more welcome) now that the man and scandal it’s obviously-but-not-legally based on has gotten a resolution of sorts with Weinstein officially going to jail for his crimes. Of course The Assistant is still a necessary movie, more now than ever, because in its extreme realism and miserable tone it proves to be way more than a movie about an abusive mogul.
It arguably isn’t even about that to begin with. Writer-director Kitty Greens’ most fascinating choice is keeping her fictitious production head unseen and unnamed. Jane (Julia Garner) works just outside his office in a drab space with two other guys answering phones and making appointments on his behalf, occasionally having to endure the veracity of other movie executives or his wife; but the man himself remains an enigma. The production company has no name either, nor do most of the cogs in its workspace. Everything is merely an analogue, Green wanting the environment to stand in for just about any company –even the fact that its business is in the film industry seems ancillary. And in this, even apart from the crux of the films’ subject matter, the movie is extraordinarily accurate in its depiction of the monotony of an office job. Avoiding any semblance of faux sitcom friendliness, the film spends a great deal of time in quiet mundanity. People see to their tasks with little interest, the toil of long overtime hours is illustrated with potent relatability, Patrick Wilson shows up ostensibly as himself in the context of taking a dull business meeting, and there are long scenes devoted to Jane making photocopies or answering a phone call or cleaning a conference room.
And she doesn’t do so with any excitement. Both the production design and Jane’s personality are rather dreary and grey, perhaps the least attractive portrait of working in Hollywood ever. Garner terrifically plays the part with the faded enthusiasm of a woman whose producing ambitions have been severely tempered by reality and what she has had to tolerate to continue to support herself through it. She’s reserved, stony, and subtly embittered by being both the conduit others take their frustrations with her boss out on and being on the receiving end of numerous sexist micro-aggressions by her co-workers and superiors.
The effect of this is that the film illustrates in no uncertain terms not only the difficulties of this particular situation of being in the employ of a man with an open secret of routine sexual harassment, but just the everyday difficulties of women in the workforce generally. The slog of having to be diplomatic where the men don’t have to, being condescended to or ignored, and sometimes having to complete tasks potentially outside of your job description -as is the case when Jane is made to escort a new receptionist to an upscale Hollywood hotel. This new girl (Kristine Froseth) is the source of some anxiety and suspicion for Jane, being very young and attractive with no prior experience and who the boss has taken a particular liking to. It’s an impetus for the films’ major sequence, and also its’ most damning, when Jane attempts to take these concerns to a human resources representative played by a deceitfully approachable Matthew Macfadyen, who agrees to file a complaint on her behalf, but not before walking her harshly and disrespectfully through how it will play out. And of course he’s telling the truth.
But it isn’t just mere brutal honesty -it’s also demonstrative of the insidiousness of male control structures and how they’re reinforced. He feigns confusion over what she’s getting at, questions her priorities, and proceeds to turn the tables on her with expert manipulative rationality. The film knows intimately the way these things work: Macfadyen upon learning Janes’ goals cordially responds with “we need more women producers”, before a couple minutes later condescending to and insulting her for her audacity to file a complaint, accusing her of envy and prejudice towards this new girl, and dropping that most despicable of silencing remarks, “do you know how many people would love to have your job?” He not only successfully makes clear in coded language that sexual harassment is accepted at their company, but that her complacency is necessary to keep her job.
And with that the films’ goal is accomplished, showcasing exactly how and why predatory behaviour is kept under wraps, how widespread and systemic it is, and how women are often powerless to speak up about it. The Assistant is an indictment of course, but it’s not making a show to be just and empowering the way Bombshell desperately wanted to be. It makes visible the finer details of patriarchy, the environment in which a culture of sexual harassment and abuse flourishes, and even the way the language and tools of progressivism are co-opted by the powerful to maintain a status quo. In the end it really isn’t about Weinstein. It’s far bigger than that. It’s about why we should believe women, why our culture needs to evolve from these power structures that keep them down, and why it’s not enough to take solace in the fact that you personally won’t be harmed because “you’re not his type.”

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