The Associate

These days it’s hard to know what to expect from a Whoopi Goldberg film. There was a stint there in the mid ’80s when she could do no wrong (Jumping Jack Flash, Telephone, Burglar etc) then she went on Star Trek: The Next Generation which surprised everyone. Then there were the merciless Sister Act films before she sort of disappeared into obscurity. In this 1996 vehicle, Whoopi is at her original best, playing that kind of whacked out, manic yet remarkably together woman she manages to play so well.

This is basically a comment about women getting equal respect in the workplace, but its principles apply to minority or underrated folks everywhere. Whoopi plays Laurel Ayres, a financial analyst with Manchester Investments. When her sleazy partner gets her promotion because he’s male, she quits and decides to start her own firm. Because she’s a gal, no one’s interested in her portfolio and so, in a fit of pique, she invents a ruthless financial partner named Cutty. He’s a world-weary traveller who’s never in the office (of course), yet she manages to convince some big boys he exists and can make them more money. Her business suddenly takes off bigtime and soon she realises she is going to have to create this guy for real to avoid fraud and other charges.

It’s a slap in the face to big business and the male myth of superiority, particularly as Whoopi’s character can outplay all of them. Dianne Wiest is perfectly Dianne Wiest in the role of Whoopi’s secretary Sally, both quiet and timid, yet with her inner wrestling demons ready to explode at any moment. This film is based upon a French flick entitled L’Associé, which I haven’t seen, but knowing the French and the Hollywood ideal of copying them, it’s no doubt just as good, if not better. However, for our purposes here, The Associate is well worth a look and contains some genuine laughs, while still getting its point across in a clever manner. It should be noted, though, that this isn’t a male-bash by any means, rather a dig at the close-mindedness of society and the eternal struggle for equality.

This is mostly a fine transfer, but for occasional moments of fine grain texturing the screen. Predominantly set indoors and in what appears to be real sets (rather than well-lit studio fabrications) this is where the problem lies in some just underlit scenes. They aren’t too frequent and are fine for the most part.

The picture isn’t razor sharp, but isn’t too far from it while shadows are a teensy bit heavy when they exist. Blacks are true to life and the rest of the colour is pretty good. None are too bright or too weak and all are well saturated. Flesh tones are okay, which even includes the latex skins used when Whoopi creates Robert Cutty. The makeup is quite extraordinary actually, for this transformation of short black woman to short white man.

Sound comes in the form of Dolby Digital 5.1 surround in five languages, though I only checked out English. This is perfectly fine for our film as it’s mostly a dialogue piece, but is kinda wasted when all is considered. Still, it sounds great anyway and we should be thankful for 5.1 when so many movies such as this arrive with just stereo.

The whole soundscape is well balanced and even throughout, with nothing trying to dominate which is always a bonus. Sound effects are all fine and the dialogue is clear and well spoken.

Bankrupt and bereft.

Whoopi in true Whoopi mode is always good and in The Associate she is Whoopi all the way. Firm with her beliefs, yet able to see the humour in the reality of a situation. A great supporting cast helps pad this one out and the message of the film is an important one that should be heard. The only misfortune of this DVD package is the distinct lack of extras. Surely there’s a huge archive of footage somewhere where they could go and get the trailer at least? There aren’t many films made today without a ‘Making of’ as a sell job for TV either. How hard could it be to track these down? Oh well. The film’s very entertaining, but there isn’t much else to move units off the shelves.