When Maddie’s Secret premiered at TIFF last year, it was shrouded in secrecy. Marking the directorial debut of actor and comedian John Early (who also stars and wrote the screenplay), I expected something funny. But what I didn’t expect was a movie that balances comedy and melodrama with one of the most sincere and thought-provoking representations of eating disorders I’ve seen.
Maddie Ralph (Early) is a suburban girl who dreams of the spotlight. Her life is idyllic, living with her husband Jake (Eric Rahill) in their tastefully decorated home. Maddie works as a dishwasher at Gourmaybe, a recipe-development company, with her bestie Deena (Kate Berlant). Maddie’s happy with the way things are, but those around her know she’s a gifted chef in her own right and capable of greatness. One night, a video of Maddie’s recipe goes viral overnight, and the next day her boss, Zach (Conner O’Malley), installs her as the new face of Gourmaybe.
All of this should be everything Maddie’s ever wanted. It’s an opportunity for the world to see her as her friends and loved ones do, an immeasurably charming and sincere woman who creates accessible yet heightened cuisine. But the extreme focus on Maddie brings to the forefront her lifelong struggle with bulimia, something she’s managed to keep at bay for years. These new work pressures and time in such a front-facing role initiate a downward spiral as she tries to keep her eating disorder—the film’s titular secret—from stopping her rise to the top.
Maddie’s Secret is chock-full of some of the brightest comedic talents of the moment and is extremely funny as a result. Berlant can do so much with so little; a slight contortion of her face is enough to send the audience into an uproar. O’Malley as the sleazy boss is a delight: his declaration of “Let’s make some content” is bound to become a widely circulated meme. It’s often outrageous and larger than life, like when Maddie attends a “radically queer” dance group (as an ally, she’s careful to note), and she doesn’t know any of the steps, but her body intrinsically does.
The film’s satirizing of influencer culture is spot-on. It’s shot in a hazy, dreamlike fashion reminiscent of after-school specials and soap operas, which lends itself well to the melodramatic elements that rule Maddie’s Secret. But what’s so striking about the movie, and what makes it so unique and so unforgettable, is the way it balances the absurdity and hilarity of the food-influencer sphere with the startling gravity of Maddie’s eating disorder.
While Maddie’s Secret has plenty of jokes, it never attempts to satirize or make fun of eating disorders. In a world of increasing sarcasm and emotional insincerity, it’s breathtaking to see a film as achingly heartfelt as this one. Certain visual choices capture the fear of Maddie’s secret being found out, like cloaking Maddie in shadow as she overhears colleagues talking about her in the bathroom stall. The film understands how words can cut deep, like when a new dishwasher at Gourmaybe tells Maddie how brave and powerful she is for having a “normal” body on camera. When things finally get too much for Maddie and she purges for the first time in years, the camera pulls away from her, never seeking to expose Maddie in her most vulnerable moment.
Eventually, things become untenable for Maddie, and she checks herself into an in-patient program for women suffering from eating disorders. At this point in the film, there’s a tonal shift from satire to sincerity—the film becomes far more interested in honesty than laughter. As a writer and performer, Early is deeply invested in the well-being of his characters and clearly has the utmost respect for women. The movie shifts from hilarious to satirical to shatteringly real. It’s a film that understands eating disorders can’t be patched over with Band-Aids, nor does therapy make them go away for good. It also doesn’t attempt to martyr those who suffer from eating disorders.
Maddie being played by Early, a cis man, offers an opportunity for cheap and easy gags, but I’m thrilled to report that Maddie’s Secret ignores that impulse. The film makes no reference whatsoever to Early being a man. This is not a character in drag, and Early plays Maddie with an unfettered heart. It’s an extraordinary turn, and Maddie’s Secret could have easily been a train wreck if Early wasn’t as singularly brilliant as he is.
Maddie’s Secret is the kind of film that upends expectations at every turn. It’s like hanging out with your best friend; an experience that can make you laugh until your sides hurt, yet can also provoke deeper emotions and challenge the way you see the world around you. The film has the makings of a cult classic, but is every bit as deserving of a breakthrough mainstream success. Early’s directorial debut is a rare masterwork that’s rich in empathy and queer sensibility while being a bold new direction for art about eating disorders.
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