Tootsie

Michael Dorsey is an actor and is convinced that the problem lies primarily with others. Directors think he’s difficult, producers no longer want to work with him, and at some point his agent is able to explain to him quite clearly why no one in New York wants to hire him. Michael calls it “high standards.” The people around him would probably use different words.

Still, he needs work. When his girlfriend Sandy tells him about an audition for a hospital drama series—where they’re looking for a strong-willed woman for a new role—frustration gives rise to a rather absurd idea. Michael transforms himself into Dorothy Michaels, goes to the audition himself – and lands the job. What started as a disguise thus turns into a job.

The amazing thing about Tootsie is how little time the film spends trying to sell Michael’s deception as a brilliant plan. Dorothy works not because Michael suddenly has everything under control. It works because he’s a good actor and because the traits that make him unbearable as a man on set are suddenly perceived differently in this role. Dorothy challenges authority. She asks questions. She refuses to simply accept instructions. And for the first time, Michael experiences how differently that same tenacity is viewed when it comes from a woman.

Dustin Hoffman conveys this shift not only through his voice, clothing, and movements. For Michael, Dorothy is initially, above all, a role he must maintain credibly at all times. He observes himself, controls his gestures, and constantly reacts to the danger of being discovered. But the longer he plays her, the harder it becomes to clearly distinguish which of her convictions are merely improvised and which have long since become his own.

On set, Dorothy meets Julie Nichols (Jessica Lange), who plays a nurse in the series. Michael is drawn to her, but as Dorothy, he can only get close to her in a way that makes his true intentions impossible. For Julie, Dorothy becomes a friend. For Michael, this makes every intimate conversation more complicated.

The comedy gets by with surprisingly little of the classic “mistaken identity” hysteria. Of course, there are doors, phone calls, and situations in which Michael has to somehow keep his two identities separate. Far more uncomfortable, however, are the moments when his lie works. Julie confides things to Dorothy that she would probably never tell Michael. At the same time, Dorothy’s success grows. What begins as a desperate attempt to simply be employed again takes on a life of its own. She finds an audience on set, she resonates with the public, and suddenly—of all things—in a fictional identity, Michael possesses the professional recognition that was denied to him as Michael Dorsey. That flatters his ego more than he’d probably admit.

Tootsie doesn’t make it easy for Michael by immediately rewarding him with special insight for his new experience. He can recognize very clearly when men patronize or underestimate Dorothy, yet at the same time remains astonishingly blind to how he himself treats women. Sandy, in particular, feels the brunt of these contradictions. Michael would like to think of himself as an attentive, understanding man, while his actual behavior regularly suggests otherwise. Dorothy is therefore not simply Michael’s better half. She merely forces him into situations he could have avoided as a man.

His workplace also changes because of her presence. The director of the hospital series is used to getting his way, physically directing actresses, and brushing aside objections as quickly as possible. Dorothy turns what used to be routine into conflict. Her success in doing so has a strange side effect: Michael, who can barely get any work anymore because of his quarrelsome nature, is suddenly celebrated for almost the same trait.

But life outside the studio is becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile with this charade. Michael must be Dorothy if he wants to work, remain Michael when he’s living his real life, and somehow prevent people from both worlds from getting too close to one another. The more successful the deception becomes, the less it can be confined to the hours spent in front of the camera.

The film could easily have turned this into a story in which a man dresses up as a woman and thereby finally understands how women live. Tootsie is more skeptical of such a convenient realization. The experience of being Dorothy doesn’t turn Michael into a different person. But it does take away his excuse.

Michael wanted to prove that he was a great actor. Ironically, his most successful role shows him just how much he still has to learn offstage.