Lakeith Stanfield is a telemarketer who excels by using his “white voice” to make sales.
Boots Riley’s brilliant absurdist comedic satire, Sorry to Bother You, has been described as fantasy and science fiction. It’s definitely surreal, with Riley spinning a sharp anti-capitalist tale out of the story of a down-on-his-luck Oakland garage dweller Cassius Green (Lakeith Stanfield).
Cassius scams his way into a telemarketing job in a dingy facility with peeling paint and broken vending machines. Working on commission and crammed into cubicles, the worker drones are reminded to “Stick To The Script” while selling something vague and unnecessary. In the first hint of the ways the film departs from realism, when Cassius makes a call, he actually plops right into the home or office of the person he’s calling. When he makes a sale, a little light goes off. And his sketchy supervisors dangle the incentive of moving “upstairs” where a golden elevator takes exemplary workers to a better life as a “power caller.”
Cassius is dubious, but needs the cash. And then another black cubicle neighbor Langston (Danny Glover!!) gives Cassius some advice that catapults him into a new life. “Use your white voice,” says the grizzled veteran, demonstrating to eerie effect, and explaining that the white voice is more than just a physical manifestation; it’s a way of sounding not desperate to make a sale, as if you’re going to get into your Ferrari after putting down the phone. Cassius tries it, and lo and behold, it works. Dancing with a super creepy boss ensues. Then just as a co-worker named Squeeze (Steven Yeun) begins to agitate for a union, Cassius becomes a power caller (and thus a scab), crossing a picket line every day in a fancy suit. He makes calls for one of the firm’s biggest clients, WorryFree, a controversial company that cuts labor costs by providing slave labor to corporations.
Naturally, this selling out causes friction with Cassius’ performance artist girlfriend, Detroit (Tessa Thompson), who, unbeknownst to Cassius, is part of a shadowy resistance movement.
While crossing the picket line, Cassius gets beaned by a can of cola thrown by a protester and becomes a YouTube sensation. Then, the same night as Detroit’s big art opening, he gets invited to hang out in a mansion with the coke-snorting, orgy-hosting CEO of WorryFree, Steve Lift (Armie Hammer, savoring every moment of villainy).
Yes, it’s a little off the rails. Riley’s writing veers at times into an earnestness that feels forced. But these sins are forgivable. You never stop rooting for Cassius, even when he’s lured into making poor choices. And just when you think it can’t get any weirder, it does. If you’re intrigued by the idea of a film that critiques predatory capitalism while harnessing the comic potential of surrealism, you’ll want to put Sorry to Bother You on your must-see list. I’ll be going back.
