On Sorry to Bother You

There is a line, delivered by Steven Yeun’s Squeeze in the final third of Boots Riley’s Sorry to Bother You that is revelatory, both about the film we are watching and the main issues facing the world today. In conversation with the now re-agitated Cassius Green, fresh with allegations of conspiracy and corruption, Squeeze tells him that if you come to people with a problem, but without a solution, people will learn to live with the problem. The clear message of the power of trade unions suggests this could be a veiled criticism of left or socialist movements across the world who are struggling to find a solution to populist movements advancing right that dismantle unions on the way. Or it could be a wakeup call to the audience. A quiet, but powerful reminder that a solution is coming, perhaps from the artistic left, which has, around the world, found a loud and powerful voice as politicians fall quiet. However it is read, Sorry to Bother You is loud and it is powerful and to look at its hashtag on Twitter, it is energising all who see it.

There are two main issues explored here, weaved into one very strong narrative. The first is that a growing number of companies control the means of production and distribution while lessening the powers of trade unions with the help of government, and the second is race in America. The former, the voice of the trade union, is a rare voice to hear on screens. In the UK, Brookside’s Bobby Grant gave us a strong representation of a trade union leader that reached a wide audience, but that was the 80s and soap opera now, despite focusing on the working classes, go quiet on the issue. Pride (2014) was a rare exception of a film that reached a large audience while offering positive union representations and there are others that come to mind, especially from the UK and especially Ken Loach. Yet, the truth is that unions feel a part of the past, which is why Sorry to Bother You is important. This is a film for right now and about right now. The Amazon style company, WorryFree, is buying slave labour. This just as The Guardian reveals a series of stories from inside Amazon that expose the brutal work conditions. The drink can labelled Soda or the convenience stall named, Food Shop. The lack of marketing pretension suggests the masses have been controlled, there is no need to lie to them anymore. Sorry to Bother You is not the past and not the present, but almost too perceptive to be the future. Its syndicalist message is welcome and hopefully heard. Power to the unions.

The second issue is race. The comedic hook of the film, a black man using a white man’s voice to advance, is an extension of a long struggle. From historic reports of black citizens having to stand aside to allow whites to pass, to recent reports of black job applicants changing their names to read more white and stand a better chance of being interviewed. Riley is entering into a dialogue that spans decades and while it is funny, it becomes purposely less funny as the film progresses and instead an indicator of Cassius’ growing exclusion from his community. Riley is highly aware of the imagery that is associated with racial protest in America. Armie Hammer’s Steve Lift lives in a mansion that, to Cassius becomes dangerous and labyrinthine like the Southern house in Get Out (2017) or the mansion in Teddy Perkins, an episode of Atlanta’s second series. These signs of white success trap their black visitors and in each instance these visitors have been promised something (a growing relationship, a famous jazz piano, a promotion) only to find the step up (or lift up) comes at a price. The price being white control. And, in each instance they escape, but not unchanged. The scene of Cassius, having been championed by his white boss as the savour of the company is reduced to rapping; his success, it would appear is dependent on his ‘playing’ to type. Again, this is funny, but it is also social commentary.

There is something of E. L. Doctorow’s The Book of Daniel (1971) in this film, especially when we consider Daniel’s parents, the radical father aware of all the problems, compared with the more practical mother. We find Cassius radical from the start and Detroit more pragmatic. Cassius is aware of too many problems to be happy, aware of still being fucked by both sides, a repetition of Doctorow’s book. The roles switch, but the theme of radicalism runs throughout as Detroit’s art takes a more central stage. Like Doctorow, Riley is examining the cracks in American society and their roots. The fears and prejudice may not be as explicit as they were; the racism not as verbally virulent (although Trump is working on changing this), but they exist and Riley use of practical effects to show the dismantling of the world is effective. There is a nod to Michel Gondry who is acknowledged with a pseudonymous credit as the director of a short animation, a director who specialises in the manifestation of existential crisis.

Gramsci wrote about society being ruled through force and consent. That hegemonic power was reinforced through the media (Cassius’ viral YouTube video). Sorry to Bother You explores the force and the consent and then takes aim to shatter them both. A syndicalist, counter-hegemonic piece of cinema screaming at you to wake up.

Power to the people (even the horse-people).