Newly released from a psychiatric hospital, Lee (Gyllenhaal) returns home to find a nest of insecurities preserved intact. Dad’s still drunk, Mom’s flakier than a choux pastry and big sis has moved into the pool house with her he-bimbo husband. What’s an inveterate self-harmer to do, except reach for the knives…

On successfully applying for a job as assistant to lawyer E Edward Grey (Spader), it’s not long before her self-hate surfaces and he spots her attempting to administer a dose of pointy-tipped medicine. Albeit something of a slime ball, he forbids her from ever doing so again. Instead he grabs the reigns (quite literally), and decides what punishment she is to receive and when - throwing the switch on the black light bulb that illuminates the secret desires of both.

The sight of Lee manacled to a shoulder bar, her soft blouse creating the appearance of wings as she pulls a sheet of typing free with her mouth, is one which few can deny appears both sexy and inversely empowering. From the outset she remains a willing participant, and instead it’s Edward who wavers and becomes all but overwhelmed by the guilt of his naughty-but-nice urges.

While it may be a little clumsy as a visual footnote, at one point Lee sits in a diner on her lunch hour listening to a self-help tape for the newly dominant/submissive. Having blossomed under a regime of humiliation and regular spankings, she’s not about to give it all up just because the boss is too chicken to continue. The knives are gone, but the claws are most definitely out.

Secretary juggles genre and tone as it might saucepans of boiling water. Hurling comedy, erotica and kooky observational drama into the air it manages to avoid a horrible collision of content along the lines of Boxing Helena, which attempted – only laughably so – to explores a similar power dynamic. One in which trust and dependence are exaggerated tenfold, leaving sex untouched upon the shelf.

Instead Lee and Edward’s extreme, emotional tango, while playing it for laughs rather than tears, results in a sweet if occasionally simplistic poster movie for the alterna-lifestyle bracket.

Gyllenhaal, having previously appeared as gun toting cine-mentalist Raven in John Water's Cecil B. Demented, and alongside her brother Jake in Donnie Darko, here graduates to lead status with considerable bravery. Not every actress would agree to inspect her red raw arse cheeks in the bathroom mirror, but Gyllenhaal loses not an ounce of respect for it. Quite the opposite.

Hairbrush manufacturers take note – if you notice a jump in sales, you have this lady to thank for it.

Words: Bren O'Callaghan