The Iconic 80s Movie is All About Manifesting A Better Reality.
1988 was quite a year. Women strutted in bold shoulder pads, a metaphor for their burdens as they navigated corporate ladders and family life. Materialism was rising, with BMWs gracing high school parking lots—not driven by the adults. It was an era where the influence of Wall Street, both real and cinematic, painted cultural materialism as the ideal. Amidst this backdrop came Working Girl, a special movie to me. Melanie Griffith’s Golden Globe-winning portrayal of Tess McGill has left a lasting impression.
The movie opens with Tess, an ambitious secretary in a brokerage firm, constantly hitting the invisible ceiling that keeps her from advancing. She’s rejected from the the company’s Entreé Program, a fast track to becoming a broker, despite being passionate, self-taught, and possessing sharp business acumen. Tess listens to her gut and takes speech classes, determined to push forward. Yet no one takes her seriously. She’s a Staten Island girl with big hair, big accent, commuter sneakers, and a townie boyfriend. Her boss and his colleague manipulate her ambition, connecting her with the sleazy Bob from Arbitrage (Kevin Spacey…uh, yea. Say no more). Clearly, her boss will never see her as anything more than a secretary to exploit.
In an epic entrance scene, Sigourney Weaver enters as Katherine, Tess’s new boss. Katherine is the picture of privilege and entitlement—Wellesley-educated, fluent in German (ok, that scene cracked me up), East Coast elite; she effortlessly flits and floats through her world. On the surface, she’s an ally, saying all the right things, but her actions reveal otherwise. Katherine sees Tess just as Mr. Turkel does: as someone beneath her. She doesn’t exploit Tess in the same blatant way, but she uses her nonetheless. As an aside, I’ve always loved Sigourney Weaver, but her acting in this movie is a revelation. Her comedic timing and delivery is so good. Scenes with Tess and Katherine are so relatable and goofy (because all women have had a boss like Katherine). She also deserved the Golden Globe.
Frustrated and betrayed, the weight of Tess’ current reality is as palpable as a closing coffin. Mentally she’s moved beyond her physical reality. She sees herself in a new reality so vividly she can taste it. Katherine’s words, “You don’t get anywhere by waiting for what you want to come to you. You make it happen. Watch me, Tess. Learn from me,” is exactly what Tess does—but on her own terms.
Tess knows she has valuable ideas that can be brought to the table. And she realizes she doesn’t like these assholes’ table. In an argument where her friend admonishes her to stay in her lane, Tess fights back and says, “I’m trying to make it (life) better. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life working my ass off and getting nowhere just because I followed rules that I had nothing to do with setting up, ok?!”
As Tess’ “Coffee, Tea, Me?” neighborhood friend and fellow firm secretary, Joan Cusack steals scenes and receives a well-deserved Academy Award nomination for her performance. Alec Baldwin’s character townie boyfriend is a character I have a soft spot for because he sees the changes in Tess and wants to change himself but isn’t ready. His line, “You look different. What, you gotta go to traffic court or something?” and the accompanying conversation was so nuanced. He doesn’t understand but actually does understand. He doesn’t want to believe Tess has the nerve and guts to move on because his fear keeps him in the same place. These two characters represent Tess’s old reality, while Harrison Ford’s character, Jack, embodies the new possibilities—encouraging Tess to reach higher. On the other hand, Katherine is a cautionary tale, illustrating the trappings of what Tess can become in the new reality.
Watching Working Girl after years of learning about manifestation, law of attraction, and meditation, is my guilty pleasure. Having worked in startups, tech companies, and ad agencies, I relate to Tess’s journey—the sexism, the underappreciation, the constant struggle to be seen for her worth. As a business owner, I move forward, manifesting my reality. The movie beautifully illustrates that manifesting requires action—without it, it’s just daydreaming.
At the movie’s start, when Tess is denied entry into the Entreé Program, her boss remarks that she’s up against Harvard and Wharton grads, dismissing her night school and secretarial education. His colleague (a young Oliver Platt) quips, “Christians and lions, Tess.” It’s a small line, but it sets the tone for the whole movie—a reminder that too many underestimate Tess’ fighting spirit as she steps into the brutal arena of Wall Street. I won’t link to the end scene because this movie is all about the effort and the journey.
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