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cjlasky7Boots Riley's "Sorry to Bother You" is a funny, audacious, blisteringly political first movie from a musician/film maker who wanted to fire a cannon shot into the comfortable headquarters of American capitalism. (Consider it fired.) And if Riley can't quite corral all of his ideas into a smoothly integrated narrative, he succeeds wildly in exploring race, art, commerce and human dignity in a way rarely seen on screen.
I like the way Riley starts out on a basic, grass roots level and heightens the stakes (and the absurdity) as Cassius (Lakeith Stanfield, excellent) climbs the social ladder. When we meet him, "Cash" (hmmm) is a personable but aimless Oakland resident with a fabulous performance artist girlfriend--and no money. Cash is bright enough, but he can't seem to find anything he's good at; he wants to do something that challenges him, fulfills him, something that MATTERS.
In desperation, he takes a job as a telemarketer, and he finds his voice--specifically, a "white" voice--the calm, assured voice of a man who's got it made and can help you get it (dubbed in, to hilarious and disturbing effect, by David Cross). The voice is a huge success, and Cash becomes the superstar of the call center. He's then brought up to the big leagues: power caller for the parent mega corporation, WorryFree.
But while Cash is enjoying the big paycheck and the fancy new car, he drifts away from the friends and lover who supported him. The ground-level callers want to unionize, but he offers half-hearted support; and he can barely summon any interest in Detroit's art installation, a project she'd worked for for years. Where there was warmth and fun in the scenes of Cash and his friends hanging out on the streets of Oakland, Cash is isolated in his corner of WorryFree HQ.
But make no mistake--Cash is very good at what he does. In one of the most riveting "call" sequences, he rings up a Japanese phone manufacturer, and sells him WorryFree's labor for a new factory. Just like in the previous call sequences, Riley literally plops Cash in the same room as his mark. But those other instances showcased Cash's awkwardness and shame for intruding on people's lives; here, it demonstrates Cash's power of persuasion--a display of dominance.
Yeah, he's selling major-grade weapons and slave labor, but he's the best. He's doing work that matters. And he's not just another black man getting kicked around by the world--he gets respect.
Or does he?
Next level: Cash is invited to a party thrown by WorryFree CEO Steve Lift (Armie Hammer). "The Man." It's something out of "Eyes Wide Shut"--a group of bored rich white people eating, drinking and fucking with little enjoyment, except for amusing themselves with the plaything of the evening--in this case, Cash. He's the street level negro in their vanilla lives, and the party culminates in a humiliating "group rap" that is painful to watch. After that, Cash realizes he's been played...and that he played himself. But it's too late. Mr. (BLANK)--Cash's handler and the head servant on the plantation--tells Cash that Steve wants a private meeting....
...and we go down the rabbit hole.
At this point, a lot of critics said the movie goes off the rails. Genetic manipulation? A slave race of horse people (excuse me--"equisapiens")? But the movie has gradually upped the stakes throughout its runtime, showing in more and more graphic detail how WorryFree (and by extension, capitalism in general) has degraded the value of human labor and human life. So when we get to Steve's master plan (and that amazing animated short explaining it!), it just seems like the next natural step in the exploitation of the proletariat.
MY problem with the "Island of Doctor Moreau" turn of events is that Riley spends the last part of the movie backpedaling away from it. We spend way too much time watching Cash freak out, wondering if Steve spiked his cocaine with mutagenic dust; Cash trying to win Detroit back, long after the audience has moved on from the relationship; and Cash bringing in his equine buds to help the telemarketers hold their picket line against WorryFree's jackbooted thugs. (Which is...good, I guess. I agree with Riley that fighting for your rights as workers is important. But somehow, the strike doesn't seem that important when you remember that WorryFree is turning people into fucking horses!)
When you introduce an idea like that, you have to think through how it affects all aspects of your story. Maybe a more radical approach to management/labor conflicts is needed when management turns the workplace into the House of Pain. Riley finally gets there in a literal last second twist (no, I won't spoil this one!), but it just makes you wish the movie went ten minutes longer, so he could follow through.
*********
One more nitpick. Tessa Thompson is really, really good as Detroit, rocking her agitprop earrings and slick sign twirlage. Detroit has her own serious issues with art vs. commerce and it's a shame she's limited to the voice of Cash's conscience when she could have easily carried her own movie. (Tessa Thompson, in general, should have her own movie--but that's another essay.)
***********
I hope I haven't over-spoiled this movie to the point where you don't want to see it anymore. There's a million wonderful details to be discovered for a film-goer, and Riley gives you a boatload of visual details that have be seen to be appreciated.
Night, all.
I like the way Riley starts out on a basic, grass roots level and heightens the stakes (and the absurdity) as Cassius (Lakeith Stanfield, excellent) climbs the social ladder. When we meet him, "Cash" (hmmm) is a personable but aimless Oakland resident with a fabulous performance artist girlfriend--and no money. Cash is bright enough, but he can't seem to find anything he's good at; he wants to do something that challenges him, fulfills him, something that MATTERS.
In desperation, he takes a job as a telemarketer, and he finds his voice--specifically, a "white" voice--the calm, assured voice of a man who's got it made and can help you get it (dubbed in, to hilarious and disturbing effect, by David Cross). The voice is a huge success, and Cash becomes the superstar of the call center. He's then brought up to the big leagues: power caller for the parent mega corporation, WorryFree.
But while Cash is enjoying the big paycheck and the fancy new car, he drifts away from the friends and lover who supported him. The ground-level callers want to unionize, but he offers half-hearted support; and he can barely summon any interest in Detroit's art installation, a project she'd worked for for years. Where there was warmth and fun in the scenes of Cash and his friends hanging out on the streets of Oakland, Cash is isolated in his corner of WorryFree HQ.
But make no mistake--Cash is very good at what he does. In one of the most riveting "call" sequences, he rings up a Japanese phone manufacturer, and sells him WorryFree's labor for a new factory. Just like in the previous call sequences, Riley literally plops Cash in the same room as his mark. But those other instances showcased Cash's awkwardness and shame for intruding on people's lives; here, it demonstrates Cash's power of persuasion--a display of dominance.
Yeah, he's selling major-grade weapons and slave labor, but he's the best. He's doing work that matters. And he's not just another black man getting kicked around by the world--he gets respect.
Or does he?
Next level: Cash is invited to a party thrown by WorryFree CEO Steve Lift (Armie Hammer). "The Man." It's something out of "Eyes Wide Shut"--a group of bored rich white people eating, drinking and fucking with little enjoyment, except for amusing themselves with the plaything of the evening--in this case, Cash. He's the street level negro in their vanilla lives, and the party culminates in a humiliating "group rap" that is painful to watch. After that, Cash realizes he's been played...and that he played himself. But it's too late. Mr. (BLANK)--Cash's handler and the head servant on the plantation--tells Cash that Steve wants a private meeting....
...and we go down the rabbit hole.
At this point, a lot of critics said the movie goes off the rails. Genetic manipulation? A slave race of horse people (excuse me--"equisapiens")? But the movie has gradually upped the stakes throughout its runtime, showing in more and more graphic detail how WorryFree (and by extension, capitalism in general) has degraded the value of human labor and human life. So when we get to Steve's master plan (and that amazing animated short explaining it!), it just seems like the next natural step in the exploitation of the proletariat.
MY problem with the "Island of Doctor Moreau" turn of events is that Riley spends the last part of the movie backpedaling away from it. We spend way too much time watching Cash freak out, wondering if Steve spiked his cocaine with mutagenic dust; Cash trying to win Detroit back, long after the audience has moved on from the relationship; and Cash bringing in his equine buds to help the telemarketers hold their picket line against WorryFree's jackbooted thugs. (Which is...good, I guess. I agree with Riley that fighting for your rights as workers is important. But somehow, the strike doesn't seem that important when you remember that WorryFree is turning people into fucking horses!)
When you introduce an idea like that, you have to think through how it affects all aspects of your story. Maybe a more radical approach to management/labor conflicts is needed when management turns the workplace into the House of Pain. Riley finally gets there in a literal last second twist (no, I won't spoil this one!), but it just makes you wish the movie went ten minutes longer, so he could follow through.
*********
One more nitpick. Tessa Thompson is really, really good as Detroit, rocking her agitprop earrings and slick sign twirlage. Detroit has her own serious issues with art vs. commerce and it's a shame she's limited to the voice of Cash's conscience when she could have easily carried her own movie. (Tessa Thompson, in general, should have her own movie--but that's another essay.)
***********
I hope I haven't over-spoiled this movie to the point where you don't want to see it anymore. There's a million wonderful details to be discovered for a film-goer, and Riley gives you a boatload of visual details that have be seen to be appreciated.
Night, all.
