Sorry To Bother You (2018): Or Is That Just What We Need?

Sorry to bother you, but as a long-term Oakland resident, I must say that I am both startled and pleased to find my city gaining some positive media attention for a change – from our Golden State Warriors’ third NBA Championship in four years to Mayor Libby Schaff’s defiant stand against the abuses of ICE to “Barbecuing While Black” (a wonderful community response to a disturbing racist incident). But especially, I’m excited because 2018 sees my town, locally known as The Town (as opposed to San Francisco, a.k.a The City) featured in three (!!) feature films.

The first of these was the Marvel fantasy/adventure Black Panther, written and directed by Oakland native Ryan Coogler, a movie which starts and concludes in Oakland (even though, regrettably, the Oaktown scenes were actually shot in Atlanta). That film has been so ridiculously successful, with global box office receipts topping $1.3 billion so far, that Oaklanders (who have lived for years in the shadow of our more prominent neighbor) may be excused for hoping that the exposure will redound to TheTown’s benefit.  Next came Oakland-based rapper/artist Boots Riley’s new picture Sorry to Bother You, the subject of this review, which is not just set in Oakland but was also filmed here with a distinctly Oakland look about it. Upcoming over the next few weeks (depending where you live) is Blindspotting, said to be a sometimes comic, ultimately explosive drama set in Oakland, written by and starring Oakland-bred hip-hop artists Rafael Casal and Daveed Diggs (winner of a Tony award for playing both Jefferson and Lafayette in Hamilton). In none of these pictures is The Town presented as an idealized or idyllic place: rather, it comes across as a mostly hardscrabble community - but a community of real people, not types.

Sorry to Bother You is an audacious movie that’s not afraid to break the rules and that manages to delight and discomfit the viewer at the same time: a broad comedy and surrealistic social satire on the one hand, it’s also a critical look at the dark side of what’s presented as an amoral, consequences-be-damned, profit-obsessed capitalist system that cares not a whit for the common man. Although inconsistent and bumpy at times, it is a movie well worth seeing: insightful, funny, worrisome, challenging, and consistently entertaining. The setting is the present day in a (thankfully) alternate universe Oakland. 

The writer and director of the movie is Oakland-based Boots Riley.  A musician, poet and community organizer, Riley has been a radical social critic since his start as founder of the hip-hop band The Coup in the early 1990s. His long history of activism has emphasized concerns about (among other things) our growing income inequality, the nearly unchecked power of the wealthiest one percent and large corporations, the powerlessness of the working class, and the continuing pervasiveness of racism and race bias in America. All of these themes are reflected in Sorry to Bother You. Riley’s “elevator pitch” provides a basic plot summary: “A Black telemarketer with self-esteem issues discovers a magical key to business success. When he uncovers the macabre secret of his corporate overlords, he must decide whether to stand up or sell out.”

One of the strengths of Sorry to Bother You are the performances, particularly of Lakeith Stanfield [Get Out (2017),  Atlanta (2016 – 2018)] as the protagonist Cassius Green, known as “Cash”. The character is a melancholy worrier who is trying to find his footing both personally and vocationally; and with his hooded eyes and soulful mien, Stanfield is perfect for the part. In fact, he carries the movie; you can’t help but sympathize with and root for him.  His girlfriend “Detroit”, played by Tessa Thompson [Dear White People (2014), Creed (2015)], is also rooting for him, at least until it looks like he has been seduced by the dark side. As Detroit, a performance artist who is herself scuffling to make a living, Thompson is more than just “the girlfriend”; she’s a real character that helps flesh out the story and Cash’s predicament.

At the outset, following a quite funny interview, Cash lands a job at a telemarketing firm called Regal View, and finds himself in a mini-cubicle at a basement call center, along with perhaps a hundred others, making cold calls to sell an (unnamed) product. In one of Riley’s clever and quite funny design flourishes: every time a potential mark answers, Cash is seemingly transported, desk and all, into the presence of the customer - be it their living room, bedroom or bathroom - to make his pitch. Trying to sell something as a telemarketer is frustratingly difficult for anyone, and Cash is no exception. Since compensation is based exclusively on commissions, it’s also depressing. Until, that is, an old hand (Danny Glover) in the cubicle next to Cash clues him in to the secret to success for a person of color: “Use your white voice,” he says. Adopting this trick, Cash suddenly becomes hugely successful. In another of Riley’s funny-clever bits, Cash’s ‘white voice’ is actually that of actor/comedian David Cross (Arrested Development).  (Although Sorry to Bother You doesn't really comment on this, it should be noted that Cash is also really good at his job - and once he gets the voice trick, his sales eclipse not just other people of color, but most of his white co-workers as well.)

While Cash is rising, however, most of his telemarketing compadres are not. A union organizer tries to bring them together to demand a living wage.  Soon there are street protests, union busting tactics, and all sorts of collateral repercussions. Cash is sympathetic to the plight of his friends but also conflicted because, of course, he’s now doing well; in fact, he’s been promoted.

About this time, we're introduced to Steve Lift, the CEO of a company called Worry Free. Before we actually meet him, we see billboards and TV advertisements for Worry Free, a live-work community touted as a radical, utopian answer for the social and financial anxieties of everyday life. Sign up and life’s problems disappear: you get guaranteed work, housing, wholesome food, a community of folks just like you. Like the ad says, no more worries - although there is one niggling little caveat: it’s a lifetime contract!  

One of the pleasant surprises for me in Sorry to Bother You is the performance of Armie Hammer as Mr. Lift. We see him as a celebrity wunderkind, a handsome and charming billionaire success story. He’s also an arrogant, self-promoting, unprincipled exploiter. The surprise is that Hammer is so good at this. Years ago, in The Social Network (2010), Hammer played the Winklevoss twins and must have done a nice job because while I remember the characters, I don’t remember him. I saw him in a couple of movies last year – most prominently Call Me By Your Name - and found him beautiful, but wooden and unconvincing. Here, though, he’s terrific as a creepy, eccentric bad guy.

Riley’s movie exaggerates pretty much everything for comic and/or polemical effect; except perhaps Cash’s inner struggle. On the one hand, Cash is desperate to be and be seen as good at something, some kind of success. (At the beginning of the story he lives in his uncle’s garage, which has been converted to a makeshift studio; and he’s four months behind in the rent even for that.) On the other hand, Cash aspires to be a good and honorable person - in his relationship with his girlfriend, with his friends and colleagues, and in his community – and to stand on his own two feet financially.

Clearly, some of the targets of Sorry to Bother You have to do with the inequities and indignities of our economic system and the inherent racism that still festers in our society. One of the funniest and most shocking moments in the picture occurs when Cash is compelled to rap as a guest at Steve Lift’s mansion, simply because he's African-American. That Cash’s path to success comes from using his ‘white voice’ is a troubling idea to him and to us (it shouldn’t have to be this way). That Detroit and his friends criticize him for this, despite the fact that it’s worked so well, also feels wrong - particularly when we learn that Detroit herself adopts a posh British accent (voice of Lily James) to sell her art. Is it the fakery that’s bad or the selling? Does the determination of what is or isn’t okay depend on the product being sold or on how exploitive the production process is?

The picture’s satirical arrows skewer other targets as well: vulgar mass entertainment such as the humiliations of reality TV; ubiquitous, deceptive advertising; instant celebrity and other evils of social media; fickle public opinion; the false equivalence of money and success; and much more. 

That it does all this in such a clever, amusing and engaging way is quite an accomplishment. The movie grabs you from the start and doesn’t let go. Not every zinger zings. Not every argument persuades. But when all is said and done, one is left with plenty to think about – which is more than can be said for most comedies.

1 hour 45 minutes                   Rated R

Grade: A-

Sorry to Bother You is currently in wide release, hopefully in a theater near you.