“Working Girl” (1988)
Nichols was nominated for Best Director at the Oscars four times over, winning once, for “The Graduate.” But while film buffs may know that his first nomination came for his debut, ‘Virginia Woolf,’ and his third for the serious-minded nuclear whistleblower film “Silkwood,” which was his first teaming with Meryl Streep (whom he’d direct to two of her 18 acting nominations), it’s still perhaps a surprise where his fourth came from—romantic comedy “Working Girl,” starring Harrison Ford, Melanie Griffith, and Sigourney Weaver. A surprise, that is, until you watch the movie. It’s a terrifically funny, sexy, and wise film that manages to be a frothy entertainment, a social comment on women in the workplace in the late 80s, a class dissection, and a deeply affectionate character portrait all in one go. Mind you, precious little of that affection is lavished on Weaver’s villainous, two-faced, two-timing boss Katherine, but the actress has such an exuberantly good time with the role that it’s hard to get too hung up on the woman vs. woman subtext, especially when it has the (for the time) pretty subversive effect of making Harrison Ford essentially the trophy. Not only that, but the other supporting roles are a joy, particularly Alec Baldwin as the rat fink ex, and Joan Cusack as the earthy best friend who sets her sights low and her hair very, very high. Best of all, though, is the genuine chemistry rustled up between Griffith and Ford, and the immensely satisfying arc by which the Cinderella story plays through, with Tess’ (Griffiths) own smarts, resourcefulness, and, well, balls, taking the role of the Fairy Godmother. Even then, Nichols can’t resist that kinda brilliant, ever-so-slightly deflating last shot as we discover that for all Tess has achieved, she’s still a tiny cog in the machinery of the “New Jerusalem” that Carly Simon is wailing about over the end credits. Most of all, though, it’s a terrific example of what made Nichols, not just an admirable director, but a lovable one too. No one is claiming that “Working Girl” is a piece of high art, but while Nichols undoubtedly had the talent and intelligence to be able to work in that register, and occasionally did, he never looked down on the idea of entertainment. Instead he brought his brain and humor and personality to bear on projects that might on paper seem beneath him, and elevated them to much more than they ever could’ve been otherwise. When you’re done honoring Mike Nichols by watching “The Graduate” again, do yourself the favor of taking another look at the great, bighearted and way-smarter-than-it-should-be “Working Girl.”
“Primary Colors” (1998)
Almost everything in Nichols’ late-period filmography (bar perhaps the saccharine “Regarding Henry” and curiously broad Garry Shandling misfire “What Planet Are You From?“) had something to recommend it, from the manic, soulful farce of “The Birdcage” to the savage, bruising Clive Owen performance in “Closer” to one of Philip Seymour Hoffman‘s finest hours in “Charlie Wilson’s War.” Excluding his masterful HBO work, the director’s greatest achievement in his last decade of screen work was his adaptation of Joe Klein‘s anonymously-published, thinly-veiled Clinton satire “Primary Colors,” a film that was middlingly received at the time, but has grown in stature since. Reuniting Nichols for a final time, professionally (they remained friends, as this recent Vanity Fair joint interview indicates) with comedy partner Elaine May, who wrote the screenplay, it tells the story of an idealistic young politico (Adrian Lester, terrific, and who should have got more big work off this) who joins the presidential campaign of charismatic governor Jack Stanton (John Travolta, in one of his best turns), and becomes embroiled in both his personal and professional lives, particularly with the governor’s Hillary-esque wife Susan (Emma Thompson). There’s a proto-“West Wing” verisimilitude to the film’s portrait of the campaign trail, but this is a much more cynical look at American politics. The supposed idealism and sincerity of the Stantons soon proves to be somewhat tarnished, and yet the film remains interestingly ambivalent. There’s a price to be paid in politics, but perhaps it’s worth it in exchange for winning and being able to actually make change. Nichols makes fine use of a stellar supporting cast, including a hilarious James Carville-esque Billy Bob Thornton, a lovely Maura Tierney, and best of all, the heartbreakingly great Kathy Bates as a radical associate of the Stantons who’s hurt more than most by their imperfections. It’s an atypically smart and complex movie about contemporary politics, funny and sad simultaneously, and a firmly Nichols-esque picture from start to finish.
Also Worth Watching: There were very many other titles we love and/or admire within Nichols’ filmography. Chief among those not listed above is “Angels in America,” which we excluded on the arbitrary grounds that it was a long-form TV event (352 minutes in total) rather than a theatrical release, but as a piece of narrative fiction it ranks right up there with anything he ever did. A sprawling, immensely moving adaptation of Tony Kushner’s stage show about AIDS in the 1980s, it largely prefigured the kind of prestige television we’ve come to expect these days, and with contemporary shows like ”The Sopranos,” ”Six Feet Under,” and “The Wire,” contributed to the reassessment of TV, and HBO specifically, as a genuine rival to cinema (the director had previously teamed with Emma Thompson on the prestige cable network for the moving ‘Wit“). Then, of course, there are Nichols’ three Meryl Streep movies, two of which got her Oscar nods—“Silkwood” and “Postcards from the Edge,” while “Heartburn” is a slighter work, but still an enjoyable pairing of Streep and Jack Nicholson. More recently, Nichols proved he still had more gas in the tank with “Charlie Wilson’s War,” now officially his last film, and if “Closer” overall missed for us, it was certainly an immensely stylish, well-directed miss. Elsewhere Nichols also directed a well-loved adaptation of “Catch-22,” though that book is such a peerless classic we just have never been able to fully embrace the screen version.
It’s a sad day for us film buffs, so feel free to mark the occasion by calling out your favorite Nichols film below, especially if it’s one not featured above. Come on, we know there are major “Regarding Henry” fans out there somewhere? – Jessica Kiang, Oliver Lyttelton
