In an alternate present-day version of Oakland, black telemarketer Cassius Green discovers a magical key to professional success – which propels him into a macabre universe.
Writer/director Boots Riley’s “Sorry to Bother You” is probably the most original movie of the year, but even that just may be a gross understatement on my part. Riley’s unique creative vision shines through not only in the wild story he tells, but in the way he tells it — incorporating unique visual techniques to give the whole thing a distinct vibe that singles it out from the pack. “Sorry to Bother You” weaves together a very twisted tale that clearly challenges many modern issues, and that’s precisely what makes it so bold and sure to last.
In a not-so-distant dystopian version of Oakland, Cassius “Cash” Green (Lakeith Stanfield) lives with his artist/activist fiancée Detroit (Tessa Thompson) in his uncle’s garage; he’s unable to pay rent, get his own car, or, as he feels, do anything that actually matters. Stanfield shines as the hunched-over protagonist — the weight of the world always on his shoulders (although you get the feeling he puts some of it on himself for no good reason).
Cash finds a job at Regalview, a telemarketing company that offers its most elite employees a chance to move up to the second floor to join the ranks of the “Power Callers”…the telemarketing big leaguers. The Power Callers have their own golden elevator and come to work in dashing attire — nobody knows just what they’re selling up there but obviously, it’s quite lucrative. Down below, we witness Cash struggle with his first few calls in a great sequence where his desk literally falls into the rooms of his customers as, one by one, they reject his stammering calls. One day, he’s approached by an older employee who teaches him a little trick that’s sure to keep the customer on the phone: using his “white voice” (made possible by hilariously dubbing-over the actor’s lines). With this technique in his arsenal, Cash shoots up the ranks at Regalview — gathering all the perks and benefits therein — eventually finding himself deep in the kingdom of the Power Callers.
It’s random, but one of the things “Sorry to Bother You” does best is montages; there’s the aforementioned montage where Cash drops into the customers’ houses, there’s one that shows his hot streak of “white voice” sells, and one that seamlessly transitions us from his poverty to his lavish lifestyle. All these are expertly executed to swiftly move us to different stages of the plot as they draw us in with the enthralling visuals that characterize the whole movie.
You can tell that Riley, who is also a hip-hop artist with music akin to the style of this film, was intentional about injecting a certain feel into every element of his feature debut; there’s a sort of neon layer about his project that will doubtless hold it up for years to come. Everything fits his highly original dystopian vibe; from the lush lighting to the font used for store signs to the iconic earrings Detroit wears, this version of Oakland is packed with bright lights and big letters meant to hide what’s beneath. Riley keeps us on our toes waiting for some sort of big reveal, but you can never guess where it’s all headed. Never.
It’s also clear that Riley wrote this to say something about our present world. In the spirit of “Get Out” (2017), shocking plot twists startle the viewer so as to draw attention to real issues the filmmaker wishes to comment on; here, Riley says things about workers unions, giant corporations, and race. Although these aren’t always kept in balance with one another — and the ending feels a bit shallow for all the deep points the story was making along the way — the film accomplishes its purpose if it at least gets you thinking about the issues it touches; and with such a disturbing final third as this has, I don’t know how you wouldn’t keep thinking about “Sorry to Bother You” long after you’ve experienced it.
