Office Space
Originally Written: July 2002
-Have you ever been stuck in rush hour traffic, where every time you changed
lanes, the lane you left started moving, while the lane you got into stopped dead?
-Have you ever gone into work the back way, so as not to be detected by your boss?
-Has a fellow employee ever told you- when you look frustrated and annoyed by work, “Sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays?”
-Have you felt as though everyday that passes since you’ve started working is the worse day of your life?
-Have you ever told your significant other- or potential significant other- the following: “I don’t really like my job, and, I don’t think I’m gonna go anymore…”, and because of the confidence behind it, they didn’t ditch you or leave the room afterwards?
-Have you ever had eight different bosses confront you about something you forgot to do, each one saying essentially the same thing?
-Have you ever had the feeling you’d be asked to come in on the weekends, tried to sneak out of work early to avoid being asked, only to have your sly boss- and slow computer- work against you?
If you answered “yes” to one or more of these questions, writer-director Mike Judge feels your pain. The creator of animated hits “Beavis and Butt-head” and “King of the Hill” is the mastermind behind “Office Space,” a thin but hilarious satire of modern office life that puts frustration upon frustration on the shoulders of its protagonist until the slow-burn finally boils over into payback for the ‘net-geek era.
Over the period of one day, Peter Gibbons (“Swingers’ Ron Livingston, embodying the ’90s yuppie everyman with wit to spare) goes through every single one of the above predicaments as we are introduced to him and his buds from work: Samir Nayeenanajar (Ajay Naidu, a frazzled pleasure), who’s ticked that no one can pronounce his name right; and Michael Bolton (David Herman, playing a yuppie-geek incarnate, and playing it well), a gangsta rap-loving white guy who has to live with the fact that he shares the same name with that “no talent ass clown” (the movie’s words, not mine) of a pop singer, and refusing to change his name to just “Mike” (resulting in one of the film’s single greatest lines- “No way, why should I change, he’s the one who sucks.”).
The three escape from badgering bosses and jamming printers to a Friday’s-like restaurant called Chotchkie’s, where they’re served by an over-enthusiastic waiter named Brian, while Peter harbors a crush for waitress Joanna (“Friends'” Jennifer Aniston, good in the role of “the girl,” but really an extension of her “Friends” role). Peter and Joanna first hook up after a visit to an “occupational hypnotherapist”- whom he asks to “zonk him out” to make it like he’s been fishing all day- with his previous girlfriend (whom everyone suspects to be cheating on Peter) leaves him in a Zen-like state of contentment when the therapist dies in the middle of bringing him out of his hypnosis. Peter sleeps the Saturday he’s to be at work away (17 messages- all from Lumbergh- are left; “Michael, I did nothing. I did absolutely nothing and it was everything I thought it could be!”); flakes off and parks in the bosses’ spot when he goes to work (playing Tetris and eating Cheetos); sidesteps his creepy boss Bill Lumbergh’s desires to ridicule him (Gary Cole is a dry, chillingly accurate riff on upper-management sensibilities; it’s among modern cinema’s creepiest performances); has the guts to ask Joanna out for lunch (you know it’s love when she watches “Kung Fu” too); and- when it comes to meeting with his company’s “consultants” (superbly played by John C. McGinley and Paul Willson), whom basically decide who goes and who doesn’t- has the confidence and enthusiasm to tell the consultants- both named Bob- EXACTLY what he does all day (“Well, I generally come in 30 minutes late, go in the back door so that Lumbergh won’t see me, and then I just sort of space out for a while…but it looks like I’m working. I’d say on the average I do about 15 minutes of real, actual work.”), and what he thinks of TPS reports, and the cover sheets they require. (Don’t know what a TPS report is? It’s not a problem; neither do I. It’s just something the company hangs it’s hat on to wrap the noose around Peter’s neck.)
The Bobs love him. He tells it like it is. He makes them wonder what the Hell’s going on in this cubicle corral, even if he doesn’t do any work (“It’s a problem of motivation,” Peter says). To the Bobs, Peter is a “straight-shooter with upper-management written all over”; a big promotion is in order, regardless of what Lumbergh says (“I’m gonna have to disagree with you on that. Yeah…”). Things are looking up afterall. The turning point- and Peter’s re-awakening- is when he’s offered the promotion, but after the Bobs tell him Samir and Michael- despite their fine work (and Michael’s lying about liking Michael Bolton’s music)- are being laid off. Peter- despite what it could do for him- knows this won’t do. His solution? The company they work for- Initech- is responsible for reformatting bank software for the Y2K switch (remember the paranoia?); Michael has developed a virus that- if installed correctly- could rip off Initech big, meaning early retirement for Peter, Michael, and Samir. Sound familiar? Of course; as Michael points out, “Yeah, they did it in ‘Superman III.'”
Meanwhile, Joanna is having her own difficulties at work. Her boss, Stan (played by Judge himself under a pseudonym), is bothering her over her lack of “flair,” which is to say, the number of cute buttons on her uniform. Joanna has 15, which is the minimum allowed; the enthusiastic Brian has 37 “and a terrific smile,” Stan tells her. Stan sees the number of flair as a reflection of the effort Joanna puts into her job, and while it may be the case, she’s not happy about having it thrown in her face at work, leading up to the most irreverent and hilarious line in the entire film when Peter points out to her, “You know the Nazis had pieces of flair that they made the Jews wear…” A trivialization of the 20th Century’s most horrific atrocity? OK, but it deftly sums up modern corporate America in it’s own twisted way.
How do these stories finish up? I’ll let the film do the talking for itself there, while I give major props to Diedrich Bader (from “The Drew Carey Show”) as Lawrence, Peter’s construction worker neighbor who talks to Peter through the ultra-thin walls of their apartment complex, and tells Peter that if he had a million dollars (to answer the age-old guidance counselor question), he’d do “two chicks at the same time.” Plaudits also to Stephen Root (from “News Radio”) as Milton, the odd office drone upon which the movie- based on a series of “SNL” cartoons about the character- was inspired. Milton is the embodiment of office paranoia (such as when his desk is frequently moved, Lumbergh steals his beloved “Swingline” stapler, and when he gets stuck without a piece of birthday cake) and rebellious rage, almost always ending his scenes with the threat of “setting the building on fire.” He’s Dilbert by way of the Simpsons, and Judge allows the final victory to be his in droll, surprising ways. And director Judge also has some surprises in terms of tone his first time out (it’s his first live-action flick): in a couple of scenes involving Peter, Michael, and Samir he absorbs the style and feel of the gangsta rap that Michael cherishes more than his namesake’s pop crap, shooting them in music video-like slow motion to tunes by the likes of Ice Cube and Geto Boys. It may sound off-kilter in writing, but works wickedly well onscreen.
“Office Space” was the first part of an unofficial trilogy of films from 1999 about the male dissatisfaction with the numbing effects of office life in contemporary America. Later in ’99, two more heralded- and controversial- “comedies” that touched on the same subject were released. These were that year’s Best Picture Oscar winner, “American Beauty,” and David Fincher’s revolutionary cry “Fight Club.” All three differed in style and overlying subject, but the attitude was the same- “We’re mad as Hell, and we aren’t gonna take it anymore!” All three had different fates at the box-office as well. “American Beauty”- besides winning Oscar- was a genuine hit, and immediately deemed an American classic by many, while “Fight Club” flopped, yet developed two very passionate types of audience reactions- those who loved it (right here), and those who loathed it. It’s a surefire cult classic. “Office Space”- despite clearing it’s $10 million budget barely- flopped harder than “Fight Club,” but has since found a devoted legion of fans on video/DVD, and become a cult hit. It’s also a film for the time capsule, because more so than “Fight Club” or “American Beauty,” it is- in all it’s absurdities- the most realistic portrayal of life as a “prisoner” of corporate America of the three, and the one that will likely endure the longest in that respect.
