For many of us, the American Dream™ has become a lost cause. No, wait. I’ll redact that and say that the American Dream™ has been reconstituted and diluted to the point where many of us are living in a reality where the best we can ever hope for in this life is “three hots and a cot.” We give entire days, weeks, years to thankless corporations that expect us to look at them with thankful tears of gratitude whenever they extend us an extra dime an hour. But that only happens if you’ve worked hard and earned it so that your annual review is favorable enough, you avaricious son of a bitch. And this is all while the CEO is socking away six-figure quarterly bonuses and the shareholders claim million-dollar dividends. Once upon a time, a person could work a forty hour workweek at nearly any job and bring enough home to buy a table, put food on the table, put a roof over that table, and maybe even have a couple bucks to go get a beer with the boys at the end of the week.
These days, even with every adult in the household working a full-time job, at least one of them needs some kind of a side hustle just to keep up with the bills, and never mind actually putting anything away for later. We’re the ones who will be working until the day we die, and will likely be docked pay unless we pass from this mortal coil during the last fifteen minutes of our shift. But the employers wink and smile and brag about how many jobs they’re creating. And of course, they’ll never let you forget that your employment is entirely at-will and could be terminated with little or no warning. Because as much as they talk about creating jobs, nothing quite brings the joy to their hearts more than eliminating jobs. What’s there to do when sales are down? Why, cut payroll hours, of course! Because decreasing your sales staff is a perfectly logical way to build sales. Right? I mean, you can’t expect the boss to take any sort of a cut in his bonus structure, could you? The poor guy has five car payments and child support going to his three ex-wives. So, yes, we’re within our rights to let you go at any time. But you’re doing a great job. There’s no reason for you to worry yourself about that. Oh, that reminds me… What were your sales figures for last month?
As the current American political landscape careens headlong into the hopeless oblivion of busted unions and under-represented workers, it feels more and more like we’re all living in a near-future dystopian society like the one shown in Sorry To Bother You. Boots Riley, with his first screenplay and feature-length directorial debut has crafted an allegorical fable that’s as blunt as a horse’s hoof, yet as slick and polished as a salesman’s pitch. This flick is unflinching in its racial commentary, but takes care to include everyone who has ever experienced the dehumanizing effect of claiming a weekly paycheck from a company that demands conformity. And one way or another, they ALL demand conformity. The retail and sales industries are particularly villainous in their unreasonable expectation of constant, unwavering friendliness in the face of waves of customers and clients who oscillate from contemptuous rudeness to unreasonable demandingness to unspeakable venom. The emotional toll of any service or sales industry job is unimaginable to anyone who has not experienced it firsthand. Yet in most retail corporations, it’s rare to find anyone above a regional position who has ever put in an honest day’s work at the store level or even personally faced a client.
Sorry To Bother You lives in the daily lives of workers who are realizing that they deserve more. It’s deep in that muck and mire, but with a twisted sense of unreality that feels like a knife in the gut. Even at its absolute battiest, it’s nearly impossible to not relate to this movie, which is exactly the way I like my sci-fi. The story begins in a familiar place, then slowly unspools and leads us gently into this increasingly unreal reality. Riley fills his plate ambitiously for a film that’s less than two hours long, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish every last bite.
Now, to get right down to it, if I don’t see Lakeith Stanfield in one of the windows on my screen when the presenter is announcing the best actor nominees in February, I’m going to be saying some strong swears at my TV. Probably even the f-word. Stanfield brings a constancy to this insane movie that keeps the wackiness contained and lends needed gravity to its more unhinged moments. Even when he’s at his worst and acting like a shit-head sell-out, Cassius Green is a pleasure to watch. He’s just trying to take care of what’s his, staring fearfully into the eyes of the type of moral dilemma we can all only hope to never face.
The rest of the cast earns its title of supporting roles by generously propping up this tour-de-force performance. Tessa Thompson, perhaps remembered as Wallace’s bitchy girlfriend from Veronica Mars but more likely as Valkyrie from some obscure Norse mythology action movie, tries throughout the film to keep Cassius grounded and real. Steven Yeun finds his way back from his fateful date with Lucille on The Walking Dead to challenge our protagonist and present him with new potential. Danny Glover offers a calm reasonableness, even though he is partially responsible for setting loose the monster in Cash. And Armie Hammer will always make a better villain than he did a masked man, in my honest opinion. But no matter how great all these performances are, they are shadowed by Stanfield. And rightly so. Cash Greene is the life and breath of this story.
And what a statement this film makes. I don’t think it’s hyperbolic to refer to it as a Norma Rae for our times. It takes a bold stance, plants a flag in it, and stares accusingly at anyone who might be thinking about disagreeing with its message. I wouldn’t dare to spoil even a moment of this story for anyone. It’s a journey you’ll have to take on your own. But if you’ve ever worked as a wage-slave for a dead-end demeaning job, this movie will bring a smile to your face. And if you’ve ever sat in your corner office sending memorandums about conference call bullet points and/or putting together PowerPoint ice-breaking exercises, this movie is likely make you squirm in your seat and think about your life. But that’s OK, because fuck you anyway.
I urge you to just go ahead and check this movie out. Not only does it deliver on the surreal vagaries promised in its trailer, it takes a giant leap beyond those promises into what I can only classify as an unclassifiable socially intellectual allegorical stoner comedy sci-fi, and it is a glorious sight to behold.