The Secret of My Success (1987)

Typically paper thin, the plot and the morality are blown away by the charms of the leading man and a soundtrack that has been hand-picked to get an audience on side. Unadulterated silliness, but harmless fun.

When eventually, as it must, the story makes its demands on the characters, things slow down considerably. However, The Secret of My Success still leaves you with a good feeling about the idiocies of Big Business.

Obviously, no new ground is being broken here, but director Ross keeps things humming in an endearingly old-fashioned way. As for Fox, it's not easy to believe he's a college grad -- but otherwise he's his usual genial, charming self in a role that requires no more than geniality and charm. (It is funny, of course, to see him try and sweep the taller Slater onto her feet in various love scenes.)

The profound moral and spiritual emptiness at the core of The Secret Of My Success keeps it from being the dumb fun promised by its premise, title, and extensive use of Yello. The film never bothers to consider why Fox is in such a huge hurry to make it in business, or why the audience should be so invested in his professional success. Instead, it just assumes that everyone is out to make their fortune, get the girl, and come out on top at the end. The film consequently feels like a souped-up Rube Goldberg contraption in a furious hurry to get nowhere in particular.

As the action shifts from boardroom to bedroom, the film degenerates into a silly bed-hopping farce, and the corporate back-stabbing gets filed away until the final reel, when the whole thing is resolved by a wave of the wicked wife's magic wand. The same old capitalist fairytale, in other words.