‘Attractive, stylish, devoted to the boss': Are fictional EAs doing more harm than good?
While Sachs may no longer be Priestly's 'fetching' assistant in the highly anticipated sequel, which premieres in May 2026, she will arguably always be remembered as the person without whom her boss could not function – the unsung hero of Runway magazine.
Sachs is in good company. Many other executive assistants have crossed our screens, characters who toggle between being a professional right hand and a personal life coach every day of the week.
Decades before Sachs, there was Radar O'Reilly from M*A*S*H, the company clerk who was one step ahead of his commanding officer's needs – and the arrival of casualty-filled helicopters. On the big screen, Miss Moneypenny is perhaps one of the most famous office admins in film history. Secretary to James Bond's superior, M, at MI6, she appeared across several Bond films, though she was normally seen flirting rather than filing.
More recently, Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway from Mad Men constantly had to navigate the murky waters of a male-dominated 1960s advertising company in the period office drama, while Simone in Netflix's Sirens often behaved more like a daughter to her boss than an assistant.
Some of these characters are put through the wringer more than others, but they all share an overarching similarity: they're not ever quite given their due. It turns out that's not just the case on screen.
'We still battle the 'you're just an assistant' line,' says Candice Burningham, a Sydney-based executive assistant who has been in the business for more than 20 years. 'But we're not 'just' anything. We're business partners, we have major influence on business decisions, we have insight in business and we create real impact.'
Many people are also unaware there are distinct types of workplace assistants, she says. A personal assistant is more likely to do things like make dinner reservations or organise gifts on behalf of their boss, while an executive assistant may operate as more of a business partner. There are instances in which these roles sometimes overlap, Burningham says, but film and TV tend to depict them as entirely blended.
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Sydney Morning Herald
2 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Helicopter parent? Yep. Hypocrite? For sure. Why more and more of us are tracking our kids
I slipped into the Apple Store furtively, not quite sure what I was doing was right. My child would soon be walking to school on her own, I said. And I wanted to track her. The shop assistant met my query with total approval. As though what I was seeking – to digitally surveille my own kid – was perfectly normal. So I bought the AirTag, which would nestle into her school backpack and assure me that she had arrived at school safely. Electronic stalking of children by their parents is increasingly common. And it's a controversial topic. Is it a valid and respectful way to ensure our children's safety? Or is it an invasion of privacy which is contributing to the anxiety epidemic among kids who have only ever known a world dominated by the smartphone? The phenomenon brings to mind comedian Tina Fey's quip about using Photoshop to digitally alter images: 'it is appalling and a tragic reflection on the moral decay of our society … unless I need it, in which case, everybody be cool'. Whether it's right or wrong, a bias towards surveillance is clearly the prevailing parental sentiment – this week the California-based family tracking app Life360 reported its half-yearly earnings, which showed record revenue growth. The business is worth $9.5 billion, and is expanding into the tracking of ageing relatives and family pets. In Australia, use of Life360 has surged from 1.9 million monthly active users in 2023 to 2.7 million in 2024. 'We're seeing the rise of what we call the anxiety economy – a shift where families are making more values-based decisions and prioritising peace of mind in how they spend,' said the company's newly announced chief executive, Lauren Antonoff. 'I think of us as the antidote for the anxiety. We're not telling people that there's danger around every corner, but we know that people think about this stuff.' The company recently released an advertisement that went viral, which satirised the very parental anxiety it monetises. The ad featured a mother singing a Disney-style song to her teenage daughter called I think of you (dying) in which the mother voices her catastrophic thoughts about the fatal disasters that could befall her child while she's out of sight. They include getting stuck in a mine, being kidnapped by bandits and bleeding out on the street.
Sydney Morning Herald
2 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Why Uma Thurman said no to action roles for two decades, and what brought her back
This story is part of the August 17 edition of Sunday Life. See all 13 stories. There is something deliciously subversive about Uma Thurman. We are talking over Zoom, Thurman in the top-floor bedroom of her rural retreat just outside New York, wearing what looks like a gamekeeper's gilet, with no make-up and her hair unruly; gorgeous even when off-duty. 'You don't want to make a girl be obedient; it's not in her best interests,' she is saying, her voice patrician but her smile somehow naughty; it's in her eyes, too. We are talking about our daughters, both 13 and liable to barge in at any moment despite being told not to. 'It's kind of wonderful that they know the rules and don't always listen.' She could be talking about herself. Thurman – famous for her totemic performances in the Quentin Tarantino films Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill: Volume 1 and Volume 2, as well as for movies like the Oscar-winning Dangerous Liaisons, the sci-fi Gattaca and Lars von Trier's Nymphomaniac – likes to confound expectations. After Pulp Fiction, for which she was nominated for an Oscar and a Golden Globe, she did not make a big-budget film for three years. And since making Kill Bill, in which she plays a vengeful assassin expertly schooled in martial arts, she has not wielded a sword on screen. Instead, she has spent the past two decades turning down action roles, doing rom-coms and contemporary drama and appearing on Broadway. 'I did anything but, many times,' she says. 'I didn't grind out a whole bunch of follow-up action movies because I felt I had done something significant in the field. And it was fun to not overplay it,' she says with a smile. 'But at the same time I can't stay out of it forever.' And so we now have two opportunities to see Thurman kick butt once again. In fact, towards the end of the new Netflix film The Old Guard 2, there is a scene that will have a certain sort of cineaste very excited indeed. Thurman, who plays a jaded 5000-year-old immortal called Discord, has an epic sword fight in front of a secret nuclear facility with her fellow immortal, Andromache, played by Charlize Theron – also a co-producer of the film and its predecessor. 'Andy' is a Scythian warrior whose preferred weapon is a hefty axe. It's Kill Bill' s bloody Bride versus Mad Max' s Imperator Furiosa, two icons of female vengeance and power, a fever dream of steel on steel. And even though it has been more than 20 years, Thurman, now 55, hasn't forgotten all her moves. 'Thank God for that, because I signed on quite late for this project so I didn't have time to do proper training,' she says. 'Fortunately I had put in hundreds of hours learning how to hold a sword.' For the two Kill Bill films, Thurman trained for eight hours a day for three months. 'You may not be limber and strong,' she continues, 'but if your brain has learnt how to memorise sequences of movements, you can get back in that zone.' The film, which is based on a comic book, is essentially about a band of age-old warriors using their supernatural powers to assist their less-gifted fellow humans. Theron's Andy is their leader, and both the original and the sequel were directed by women, Gina Prince-Bythewood and Victoria Mahoney respectively. 'With The Old Guard, I thought that first movie was really unusual, a superb female-led action film that had depth, drama and really beautiful, naturalistic acting,' Thurman says. Another draw was the opportunity to work with Theron. 'Charlize is a miraculous performer, a very powerful individual and as charismatic in person as on screen. And I liked the idea of playing a supporting role to another actress who I thought had done really significant work in the drama/action field.' Likewise, Theron had long wanted to cross swords with Thurman. 'I have always admired Uma from afar,' she reveals via email. 'From Dangerous Liaisons to Kill Bill, her work is a masterclass in finding the micro in characters. She knows exactly how to change her cadence in a second to convey something so intimate, so subtle, just out of nowhere. In moments I got so lost watching her in scenes we had together that I had to remind myself I was in the scene with her. She's that captivating! I love her curiosity. Her willingness to switch things on the spot. And her truly good nature. She is kind to the bone.' Thurman's other big project this year is Dexter: Resurrection, a reboot of the celebrated mid-noughties TV series Dexter about a serial killer with a moral compass. In this new season, Michael C. Hall returns in the titular role, while Thurman plays the head of security to a billionaire, played by Peter Dinklage, who is so obsessed with serial killers that he hosts a sort of psychopaths' convention in his fancy mansion. In the second episode we see Thurman's character about to do away with an errant serial killer with a nail-studded baseball bat. 'It has a real black humour to it, but it takes itself seriously enough that it doesn't take the bite out of the blackness,' she says. Thurman was 24 when she appeared in Pulp Fiction. She played Mia Wallace, the wife of a crime boss. She danced barefoot with John Travolta's character, Vincent Vega, overdosed on heroin, was brought around by a shot of adrenaline to the heart and became a cultural icon: her black-fringed bob and monochrome wardrobe a defining 1990s aesthetic. Thurman says she didn't realise the film would have such an impact while she was making it. 'I knew it was special, you could tell from the writing, the uniqueness, but it was a relatively small film.' And by this point she had been working as an actress for nearly a decade. Thurman's childhood defied conventions. Her father, Robert Thurman, is one of the world's foremost professors of Tibetan Buddhism, having been ordained as a monk by the Dalai Lama in 1965. In 1967 he married the German-Swedish model turned psychotherapist Nena von Schlebrügge, who had been previously married to the LSD guru Timothy Leary. The pair bought some land in Massachusetts, built a house and raised their four children, three boys and Uma, although there were occasional stints in India. 'I didn't really understand that I was an American until I was about 13,' Thurman says. 'I was raised by a very European woman, so it was kind of late news to me that I wasn't really a Swedish girl.' Both of her parents were extraordinary in their own ways. 'My mother had a very eventful life. She was discovered by [British photographer] Norman Parkinson in a schoolyard in Stockholm when she was 13. He took a test photo of her and gave her his card. Two years later, when she was 15 or 16, she took off, rang him up and became a model.' So when Thurman, aged 15, her parents on sabbatical in Japan, decided to leave her boarding school to go to New York, by herself, to pursue an acting career, her parents did not try to stop her. 'I knew very clearly that I was going to be an actress and I very much wanted to go out on my own,' she says. 'Both my parents did the same sort of thing when they were young. They were very independent. So I think there was a certain amount of being raised to be independent.' Today Thurman has her own family. There are her children from her second marriage to her Gattaca co-star Ethan Hawke: Maya Hawke, 27, and Levon Hawke, 23, both in the family business. (Thurman's first marriage, to Gary Oldman, was brief and tempestuous; she was 19 and he was 31, and they divorced in 1992.) The father of Thurman's 13-year-old, Luna, is the financier Arpad 'Arki' Busson, with whom Thurman had a relationship between 2007 and 2014. As a mother she finds the freedoms she was given as a teenage girl 'mind-boggling. I mean, it's unimaginable. Those were different times.' Aged 15, she was making her own money, finding her way around the city, going to auditions, 'with just a Filofax and a quarter in case I got lost and needed to call someone'. She did some modelling to help pay for acting classes, appearing on the cover of British Vogue in 1985, travelling to Europe for work. Thurman says this period was both scary and exciting. 'It was very much navigating an adult world, so there was a lot of pretending to be older.' Aged 17, she was cast in Terry Gilliam's film The Adventures of Baron Munchausen as the goddess Venus, emerging naked from an enormous clamshell, her husband, the uxorious Vulcan, played by Oliver Reed. 'That really turned the dial for me,' she says. 'Before that, a part of me didn't know whether it would all be a dead end, as a good Swede is likely to tell you. It was at that moment I realised that I wasn't going back to school. Seeing a great director on a mad project, it was the moment I saw that I was truly on my path.' The path was never direct. Thurman's approach has always been to jump between genres, to take on odd projects, like Gus Van Sant's Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, rather than obvious ones, like The Lord of the Rings. This was in part because she did not have formal training as an actor and so saw each project as an opportunity to learn. 'I kept finding different, unique projects that would really require me to stretch. And from that kind of elasticity, that's how I helped myself grow.' Loading I ask what advice she has given to her daughter Maya. 'Oh, she knows what she's doing. She went to [the acting school] Juilliard, thank god. She actually finished high school. And what I did learn [about mothering] is that nobody listens. So it's really about being there for them rather than telling them what to do.' She has let Maya have free range in her wardrobe, ransacking it for the Nineties classics; Thurman was famously the first person to wear Prada to the Oscars. 'There's very little left of it; she's done a good job,' she says, not seeming to mind. 'I don't spend a lot of my everyday life dressing up.' After almost three decades of parenting, with her youngest now a teenager, Thurman is reaching what she calls her 'sunset period' of mothering. 'It's beautiful and there's not that much time left in the day,' she says. She is starting to think about what comes next, when she doesn't have to invest so much energy in 'shopping and driving and emailing teachers and all the things we do'. She has always had an ambition to direct, but that is for when she has more time. For now she's still just trying to fit it all in: work, parenting, looking after herself. To relax she does yoga and Pilates, goes for walks, cooks. She used to be a big reader of non-fiction but no more. 'Now non-fiction is just too brutal,' she says. I ask what she does read. 'Oh, the world has driven me to romantasy. Really, really teenage stuff. It's a great alternative to the newspapers right now.' Does she have any recommendations? 'I can't tell you. It will make me blush,' she says, smiling, delighted, it seems, to continue to defy expectations. The Sunday Times/The Times UK
The Age
2 hours ago
- The Age
Helicopter parent? Yep. Hypocrite? For sure. Why more and more of us are tracking our kids
I slipped into the Apple Store furtively, not quite sure what I was doing was right. My child would soon be walking to school on her own, I said. And I wanted to track her. The shop assistant met my query with total approval. As though what I was seeking – to digitally surveille my own kid – was perfectly normal. So I bought the AirTag, which would nestle into her school backpack and assure me that she had arrived at school safely. Electronic stalking of children by their parents is increasingly common. And it's a controversial topic. Is it a valid and respectful way to ensure our children's safety? Or is it an invasion of privacy which is contributing to the anxiety epidemic among kids who have only ever known a world dominated by the smartphone? The phenomenon brings to mind comedian Tina Fey's quip about using Photoshop to digitally alter images: 'it is appalling and a tragic reflection on the moral decay of our society … unless I need it, in which case, everybody be cool'. Whether it's right or wrong, a bias towards surveillance is clearly the prevailing parental sentiment – this week the California-based family tracking app Life360 reported its half-yearly earnings, which showed record revenue growth. The business is worth $9.5 billion, and is expanding into the tracking of ageing relatives and family pets. In Australia, use of Life360 has surged from 1.9 million monthly active users in 2023 to 2.7 million in 2024. 'We're seeing the rise of what we call the anxiety economy – a shift where families are making more values-based decisions and prioritising peace of mind in how they spend,' said the company's newly announced chief executive, Lauren Antonoff. 'I think of us as the antidote for the anxiety. We're not telling people that there's danger around every corner, but we know that people think about this stuff.' The company recently released an advertisement that went viral, which satirised the very parental anxiety it monetises. The ad featured a mother singing a Disney-style song to her teenage daughter called I think of you (dying) in which the mother voices her catastrophic thoughts about the fatal disasters that could befall her child while she's out of sight. They include getting stuck in a mine, being kidnapped by bandits and bleeding out on the street.
