Writer and director Boots Riley must have been swamped with ideas while piecing together Sorry to Bother You, his debut feature. I wonder if he had as much fun writing it as I did watching it. This is only one movie, but there’s enough material here for ten more, each one odder than the last. It emphatically, even stubbornly, clings to its screwy sense of humor, all while its hyper-political heart beats strong. As a result, the film comments on reality without really abiding by its laws. Whether or not the story works, it’s one of the most original in years, soaring up to the ranks of Charlie Kaufman. Riley doesn’t let you peek around the corner. You’re at his mercy here; to see the end of Sorry to Bother You coming would be like anticipating a piano falling on your head in the middle of the street.
I saw Riley speak at a screening roughly two months ago. His gestures and physical mannerisms were relatively subdued for the mad scientist you’d expect him to be. He responded politely and methodically to questions from the audience, of which there were understandably many. His voice was low, his shoulders slightly slumped, his fingers trailing up to brush his pronounced sideburns from time to time. I can only guess that his bizarre work is a product of his imagination, not a reflection of his behavior. The characters he invents are a funny mixture of both; they are often cartoonish in the way they trip over their obstacles, yet they never lose the ability to think and debate.
What Riley did make clear that night was his stance on the middle class and labor unions; he is an adamant supporter of both. It’s no coincidence that he’s chosen his protagonist for Sorry to Bother You to be the steadfast everyman Cassius “Cash” Green (no, I don’t believe the character’s name is a coincidence, either). Our affinity for Cash stems partly from a smooth and believable performance from Lakeith Stanfield of television’s Atlanta, partly from his character’s admirable — albeit buffoonish — tendency to swing for the fences. During an interview for a low-paying telemarketing job, Cash flaunts the honors and trophies he’s been awarded throughout his decorated career. The trophies are fake, and so is the career. The recruiter couldn’t care less about Cash’s credentials — he just needs to know if this man can read.
The film begins inconspicuously like this. Cash worries about the future. He needs to pay his uncle (Terry Crews) the overdue rent for the dumpy garage he’s crashing in. It would appear as though Cash’s girlfriend Detroit (Tessa Thompson) has no problem living with him like this. Money is not her top priority, and besides, Cash is a good guy. Cash is not as pleased with his new job; he is anything but a born salesman, but he desperately needs the commission. Only by charming customers with his “white voice” — Stanfield is dubbed over here by David Cross — does Cash get closer to earning a promotion to the elusive “Power Caller” seat. Meanwhile, Squeeze (Steven Yeun) and other coworkers get fed up with their stingy paychecks, and a strike begins to brew. Cash is torn between the two sides of the feud, and as with any strong conflict in storytelling, the decision he must make is not an easy one. From here... events get progressively weirder. I’ll let you see for yourself.
Sorry to Bother You has a lot to say about the status quo, and despite its wayward narrative, the film never sounds dodgy or fluffy saying it. Is it enough to make a decent living, or is “enough” always just a little more? If you’d truly be satisfied with just enough money to put food on the table, then you come as a pleasant surprise to me. Cash may very well feel content at the time he’s hired to the telemarketer job. Soon, certain doors are opened to him. That Cash finds himself walking through them isn’t necessarily due to greed; in his case, it’s often a symptom of his curiosity.
Despite the ethical dilemmas he constructs, Riley never forgets that this is a comedy, and save for a rather troubling twist toward the end that’ll be enough to make some viewers queasy, he’s good at hitting his mark. As he pushes his character through deeper and darker stretches of the corporate gauntlet, his fictional world grows fittingly outrageous, yet somehow familiar. Elevators are coated with gold and literally carry people up and down the social ladder. Telemarketers dial the numbers of residences and are then inexplicably teleported to make the sale face to face. This is a society in which millions of households tune into nightly television broadcasts of “I Got the S#*@ Kicked Outta Me!” I’m not sure if Riley’s being cynical about any reality show in particular, but I have a couple that pop into mind.
Sorry to Bother You only falters in its final fifteen minutes or so, which is rather inevitable. Riley escalates the plot past a sound resolution, and he makes the mistake of saving his most ludicrous ideas for when he should be wrapping it up. This is absurdist humor, yes, but the ending almost does too little for me, like it doesn’t belong to the rest of the film.
Such are the risks of weaving a story as eccentric as this one; Riley is more willing to take them than are a lot of screenwriters presently on the market. My only complaint about Sorry to Bother You is that it is superfluous at points, but that isn’t to say that the film is disorienting. If a less skilled director were to have made this movie from Riley’s script, I suspect that the trippy sequences would be bloated and distract the audience from the story. Here, Riley’s focus helps; there is never a question raised over who Cash and Detroit are, what they want, and why. This is Riley’s own world, but more importantly, these are his own characters.
