Nobody would describe Sorry to Bother You as a subtle movie, but wouldn't that be pointless these days? With his directorial debut, Boots Riley has not made a satire that slyly pokes fun at corporations and capitalism in an understated manner, nor he has made a movie that pulls its punches. No, the musician-turned-director's incredible comic statement is an outrageous, fiery skewering of our modern economic and political system, a raucous, jaw-dropping whirlwind of razor-sharp satire and fantastical cracked-mirror madness. Even if you're quick to catch on to what Riley is doing with this wild ride, the sheer go-for-broke audacity of the film is never less than stunning. Overflowing with outlandish ideas, maniacal twists, and righteous anger at a broken world, Sorry to Bother You is consistently captivating, a roller-coaster ride that just won't quit. It's the equivalent of a feature-length mic drop.
Set in a wacky alternate version of Oakland, the film follows Cassius "Cash" Green (Lakeith Stanfield), a man who just really needs a job. When we first meet Cash, he's fabricating his application for a telemarketing position at Regal View, boosting his resume with made-up accolades. The Regal View official catches on early, but instead of kicking Cash out to the curb, he hires him on the spot. He admires Cash's hustle, the drive for success that lets him make up a few little white lies if it gets him money. Along with best friend Sal (Jermaine Fowler) and girlfriend Detroit (Tessa Thompson), Cash begins this new position, stumbling and struggling along the way. Help arrives in the form of a friendly co-worker (Danny Glover), who tells Cash to use his "white voice" (David Cross) if he wants to make any real money here. Cash's voice earns him praise at work and tons of commissions- he's an overnight Regal View sensation.
Now, here's the point where I need to give a little bit more context for this strange vision of Oakland. In this world, labor and capital is dominated by a country called WorryFree, run by coked-out "genius" Steve Lift (Armie Hammer). WorryFree employs millions, all of whom are guaranteed housing and a "worry free" lifestyle so long as they work to produce goods for the company. Of course, this leads to accusations of slavery, which Lift vehemently denies in court. In terms of how this relates to our characters, Cash is a bit of a go-with-the-flow guy, while Detroit is a certified member of a radical group that fights WorryFree. When a union organizer (Steven Yeun) pushes for a strike at the Regal View offices, Cash will have to make a choice. Should he continue to rise the ranks of the corporate ladder, becoming a so-called Power Caller? Or should he stick to his principles and stand by the little guy?
With small roles in films like Selma and Straight Outta Compton and more prominent performances in FX's Atlanta and Jordan Peele's Get Out, Lakeith Stanfield has experienced a meteoric rise to fame over the last few years, bolstered by his distinctive screen presence and his often-hilarious off-screen personality. Stanfield gets his turn in the spotlight in Sorry to Bother You, which confirms what pretty much everyone already knew: this guy is a star. Cassius Green is an unassuming and somewhat shy dude, initially clad in worn-down suits and plaid sweaters. As written by Riley, Stanfield has to walk a line between a cutthroat hunger for power and a profound loyalty to his friends, something the actor pulls off with ease. There's a level of discomfort and uncertainty to every scene with Cash, like he's just not sure if he should be here or somewhere else.
Stanfield gives him an everyman quality; you can feel the world collapsing around him as he finds himself deeper in this tangled web of morality. The film rests on the shoulders of Stanfield as he tries to balance the two sides of Cash, keeping Riley's core thematic principles intact as the story progresses. If Sorry to Bother You is a movie about the conflict between the desire for personal success in an immoral system and the dispersion of power and wealth in a just world, Cash is the vessel for these critical questions. All of the other characters have clear stances and attitudes that they stick by through thick and thin. Even if great actors like Armie Hammer, Tessa Thompson, and Steven Yeun are essential to the final product, their characters are explicit representations of specific ideologies. Cash is the only one stuck in the middle, and it's delightful to watch Stanfield enhance both aspects of the character's personality. Cash's timidity is thrown to the wayside, especially when things go south in the third act.
You'll hear a lot in the coming weeks about the sheer madness of Sorry to Bother You, with people describing it as the weirdest and most unbelievable movie in decades. And it certainly goes in some unexpected directions, emerging as a film with twists and turns designed to pull the rug out from under the audience. But there's a trick to what Riley accomplishes here, and it's something that can only be described as the gradual development of absurdity. Riley knows the inherent risks of alienating viewers with straight-up bizarro insanity right off the bat. While I won't spoil where it goes, there's a final twist that will likely baffle and anger mainstream audiences. If that was revealed in the early goings, most people wouldn't even give this thing a chance.
Instead, Riley takes the time to set up his world, establishing his core preoccupations and throwing in little touches of off-kilter quirkiness for good measure. He crafts a universe that is markedly different than our own, yet still a little too familiar considering just how grim things get. In those early moments, the basic ideas are clear and intriguing, with WorryFree existing as a representation of the evils of capitalism and a twisted version of the corporations that run our daily lives. Then Riley gets a little bit more specific and a little more obvious, introducing a golden elevator as a symbol of power and the idea of the "white voice," an incisive and consistently amusing riff on corporate homogenization and racial bias in the workplace. Eventually, the film throws in a twist that is so bold and so outlandish that you just want to cackle with laughter- if you're not recoiling in horror, that is.
If you're thinking "Wow, this really isn't subtle" during the first two acts of Sorry to Bother You, just wait. Riley reaches a point of satirical fury that feels like the total annihilation of subtlety as an artistic tool, the rejection of cleverness as a way of making a point. The movie has been slowly tapping your head with a hammer for 75 minutes at this point; in the finale, Riley prepares to go for the kill. This may seem like a bad thing on paper, but it actually feels like a necessary culmination of what Riley has built. As the film spirals out of control in the most carefully calibrated way possible, even the most skeptical of viewers has to admire the gutsiness on display, the sheer brashness and audacity it takes to make something so blunt and pull it off like this.
Granted, there are times where Riley's edge loses its way in an easy joke or two- TV game show "I Got the S**t Kicked Out of Me" feels too simple for this movie's tastes. But on a macro level, Sorry to Bother You goes for the jugular in brilliant, impressively relentless fashion. It's so impressive that it's often easy to forget that this is Riley's first film. He's clearly a natural filmmaker, with an eye for imaginative ideas and creative stories that most directors wouldn't dream of touching. He's working within a familiar template to tell an unconventional story, shattering expectations and twisting genres along the way. He's a truly original voice, and he has made a hysterical, sometimes uncomfortable dark comedy where just about anything goes. By the time it reaches its stunner of a conclusion, Sorry to Bother You has unleashed a storm of satirical gunfire, hitting every one of its targets without missing a beat.
THE FINAL GRADE: A- (8.6/10)
Images courtesy of Annapurna Pictures
Set in a wacky alternate version of Oakland, the film follows Cassius "Cash" Green (Lakeith Stanfield), a man who just really needs a job. When we first meet Cash, he's fabricating his application for a telemarketing position at Regal View, boosting his resume with made-up accolades. The Regal View official catches on early, but instead of kicking Cash out to the curb, he hires him on the spot. He admires Cash's hustle, the drive for success that lets him make up a few little white lies if it gets him money. Along with best friend Sal (Jermaine Fowler) and girlfriend Detroit (Tessa Thompson), Cash begins this new position, stumbling and struggling along the way. Help arrives in the form of a friendly co-worker (Danny Glover), who tells Cash to use his "white voice" (David Cross) if he wants to make any real money here. Cash's voice earns him praise at work and tons of commissions- he's an overnight Regal View sensation.
Now, here's the point where I need to give a little bit more context for this strange vision of Oakland. In this world, labor and capital is dominated by a country called WorryFree, run by coked-out "genius" Steve Lift (Armie Hammer). WorryFree employs millions, all of whom are guaranteed housing and a "worry free" lifestyle so long as they work to produce goods for the company. Of course, this leads to accusations of slavery, which Lift vehemently denies in court. In terms of how this relates to our characters, Cash is a bit of a go-with-the-flow guy, while Detroit is a certified member of a radical group that fights WorryFree. When a union organizer (Steven Yeun) pushes for a strike at the Regal View offices, Cash will have to make a choice. Should he continue to rise the ranks of the corporate ladder, becoming a so-called Power Caller? Or should he stick to his principles and stand by the little guy?
With small roles in films like Selma and Straight Outta Compton and more prominent performances in FX's Atlanta and Jordan Peele's Get Out, Lakeith Stanfield has experienced a meteoric rise to fame over the last few years, bolstered by his distinctive screen presence and his often-hilarious off-screen personality. Stanfield gets his turn in the spotlight in Sorry to Bother You, which confirms what pretty much everyone already knew: this guy is a star. Cassius Green is an unassuming and somewhat shy dude, initially clad in worn-down suits and plaid sweaters. As written by Riley, Stanfield has to walk a line between a cutthroat hunger for power and a profound loyalty to his friends, something the actor pulls off with ease. There's a level of discomfort and uncertainty to every scene with Cash, like he's just not sure if he should be here or somewhere else.
Stanfield gives him an everyman quality; you can feel the world collapsing around him as he finds himself deeper in this tangled web of morality. The film rests on the shoulders of Stanfield as he tries to balance the two sides of Cash, keeping Riley's core thematic principles intact as the story progresses. If Sorry to Bother You is a movie about the conflict between the desire for personal success in an immoral system and the dispersion of power and wealth in a just world, Cash is the vessel for these critical questions. All of the other characters have clear stances and attitudes that they stick by through thick and thin. Even if great actors like Armie Hammer, Tessa Thompson, and Steven Yeun are essential to the final product, their characters are explicit representations of specific ideologies. Cash is the only one stuck in the middle, and it's delightful to watch Stanfield enhance both aspects of the character's personality. Cash's timidity is thrown to the wayside, especially when things go south in the third act.
You'll hear a lot in the coming weeks about the sheer madness of Sorry to Bother You, with people describing it as the weirdest and most unbelievable movie in decades. And it certainly goes in some unexpected directions, emerging as a film with twists and turns designed to pull the rug out from under the audience. But there's a trick to what Riley accomplishes here, and it's something that can only be described as the gradual development of absurdity. Riley knows the inherent risks of alienating viewers with straight-up bizarro insanity right off the bat. While I won't spoil where it goes, there's a final twist that will likely baffle and anger mainstream audiences. If that was revealed in the early goings, most people wouldn't even give this thing a chance.
Instead, Riley takes the time to set up his world, establishing his core preoccupations and throwing in little touches of off-kilter quirkiness for good measure. He crafts a universe that is markedly different than our own, yet still a little too familiar considering just how grim things get. In those early moments, the basic ideas are clear and intriguing, with WorryFree existing as a representation of the evils of capitalism and a twisted version of the corporations that run our daily lives. Then Riley gets a little bit more specific and a little more obvious, introducing a golden elevator as a symbol of power and the idea of the "white voice," an incisive and consistently amusing riff on corporate homogenization and racial bias in the workplace. Eventually, the film throws in a twist that is so bold and so outlandish that you just want to cackle with laughter- if you're not recoiling in horror, that is.
If you're thinking "Wow, this really isn't subtle" during the first two acts of Sorry to Bother You, just wait. Riley reaches a point of satirical fury that feels like the total annihilation of subtlety as an artistic tool, the rejection of cleverness as a way of making a point. The movie has been slowly tapping your head with a hammer for 75 minutes at this point; in the finale, Riley prepares to go for the kill. This may seem like a bad thing on paper, but it actually feels like a necessary culmination of what Riley has built. As the film spirals out of control in the most carefully calibrated way possible, even the most skeptical of viewers has to admire the gutsiness on display, the sheer brashness and audacity it takes to make something so blunt and pull it off like this.
Granted, there are times where Riley's edge loses its way in an easy joke or two- TV game show "I Got the S**t Kicked Out of Me" feels too simple for this movie's tastes. But on a macro level, Sorry to Bother You goes for the jugular in brilliant, impressively relentless fashion. It's so impressive that it's often easy to forget that this is Riley's first film. He's clearly a natural filmmaker, with an eye for imaginative ideas and creative stories that most directors wouldn't dream of touching. He's working within a familiar template to tell an unconventional story, shattering expectations and twisting genres along the way. He's a truly original voice, and he has made a hysterical, sometimes uncomfortable dark comedy where just about anything goes. By the time it reaches its stunner of a conclusion, Sorry to Bother You has unleashed a storm of satirical gunfire, hitting every one of its targets without missing a beat.
THE FINAL GRADE: A- (8.6/10)
Images courtesy of Annapurna Pictures
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