Boots Riley's 'Sorry to Bother You' is a Searingly Blunt Racial Allegory
Let’s get one thing straight: ‘unlike anything you have ever seen’ is not always a compliment, and more often than not, the statement isn’t even true. For instance, the Observer dropped the phrase on a review of Taika Waititi’s What We Do In The Shadows (2014), which, while an excellent venture into the mockumentary format, was a film built entirely on the foundations of Mel Brooks and Christopher Guest. Regrettably, snippets like this are often used for sensationalist means, with many publications pushing critics to write what they believe could be featured in release trailers, posters and other means of advertisement. This isn’t necessarily anyone’s fault, it’s just something to watch out for when approaching a new a film with buzz around it. Pandering to ticket buyers’ hype instead of their genuine desire to be informed about upcoming films has unfortunately seemed to fuel the growing disconnect between audiences and critics.
For the latest example that is still being hotly debated today, look no further than Rian Johnson’s Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2018). The film was carved into stone by critics as a loyal expansion of the franchise’s intergalactic lore, while still delving into intriguing new territory. It was this narrative that was pushed over and over leading up to the film’s release, but once viewers finally got to taste what they had been promised, it turned out to be quite the opposite. It was not nearly as consistent a film as audiences had grown to expect. In many ways it was exactly what we’ve seen before, in many ways it departed entirely from all preceding entries, even sacrificing the integrity of the entire series. But what is sure is that the picture was not at all what it was cut out to be by its critics.
That, exactly, is what is so special about Boots Riley’s film Sorry to Bother You. That is what is so refreshing; the critics have no idea what to say. There is no agreed-upon narrative that critics are boosting prior to the film’s July 6th release. Nobody knows what on earth Riley has created. It is truly unlike anything you have ever seen before.
Riley is a Chicago rapper and composer, best known for his work with The Coup and Street Sweeper Social Club. His musical career kicked off in the 90s with a collection of highly political hip-hop blended with fresh funk and alternative influences. In addition to his directorial position, Riley also had a hand in the music for his debut film.
In Sorry to Bother You, Cassius “Cash” Green, portrayed with boundless charm and alacrity by Lakeith Stanfield (Atlanta), takes a job at a telemarketing agency to help pay the bills. When presented with the opportunity to become a fabled “Power-Caller,” a higher paying and infinitely more influential position, Cash is driven into a bizarre and caustic world of drugs, bribes, manipulation, and hurt. Tessa Thompson (Creed) stars alongside Stanfield as the defiant Detroit, whose rocky relationship with Cash takes just as many wacky turns as their respective career pursuits. A rotating star cast of supporting characters, from a coked-out Armie Hammer (Call Me By Your Name) to a funnier-than-ever Danny Glover (Lethal Weapon), lends the film the familiarity it needs to portray the ensuing chaos.
Set in some not-quite-present-day Oakland, the viewer is met firsthand with the grim realities of Cash’s lifestyle. He is almost comically poor, living in the garage of his uncle’s home, driving a car on its very last leg, paying for gas in dimes and nickels, and searching desperately for anything to keep him afloat. A cult-like utopian corporation called Worryfree, which supplies free housing, food, and wages in exchange for manual labor, hangs ever-present in his mind as a possible form of escape. But strangely enough, he finds his calling in telemarketing through something that is referred to in one of the film’s many instances of poignant comedy (or comic poignancy?) as ‘white voice’. As a black man, with a typical urban black cadence, customers are quick to hang up on Cash. However, following the advice of a coworker, he begins to harness the power of white voice, which in his case is literally the voice of David Cross (Arrested Development). This is only one of the many bizarre and outlandish choices the film makes through its bold and chaotic storyline.
The abrasiveness here goes far beyond cringe humor. Its underlying messages of racism, economic disparity and governmental corruption can hardly be called ‘underlying’. The film spits straight in your face and then gives you a sippy cup of jokes to cleanse your palette. Some people say the picture unapologetically drops truth bombs, others claim it peddles a problematic agenda, and still others believe the film is so incoherent it couldn’t possibly mean a thing. All that can be said with certainty is that Boots Riley is not at all sorry to bother you.
