Sorry to Bother You

I'm Sorry to Bother You starts as a hip indie, something like if you crossed Dope with Thank You for Smoking, but then becomes something else entirely in the third act.

Initially we follow Cassius Green or Cash (the invaluable Lakeith Stanfield) rising up the ranks at a telemarketing firm called RegalView by using his white voice (David Cross) to sell junk to people.

This all occurs in a weird alternate version of Oakland where the most popular TV show focuses on kicking the shit out of people, while an increasing number of people sign on to work for a company called WorryFree, signing over lifetime rights as a worker for free food, lodging and a life free or bills.

The reason people are willing to do this is due mostly to rigged system that makes it a perferable life choice. In acknolwedgement of this, Cash's fellow telemarketers (organized by Walking Dead's Steven Yeun, who is really putting together an interesting career in his post Glen career) mount a workers strike, but Cash gets promoted and winds up crossing the picket lines a scab.

In his new role, Cash basically sells slave labor, contracting out the WorryFree work force to other companies. He initially balks at the idea but then submits to when he sees dollar signs, something that eventually fractures his relationship with his girlfriend Detroit (Tessa Thompson), who is secretly involved in a radical group of protesters known as "The Left Eye."

The film takes a turn for the weirder with the arrival of a corporate baddie played by Armie Hammer (showing increasing shades as an actor). It's a big swing from writer/director Boots Riley that you have to see to believe. To say more would be ruin the experience, but this is a vital takedown of of the status quo that investigates class warfare, white gaze, racial hierarchy, and media failings in fresh and challenging ways.

Lost David O. Russell Film Surfaces As "Accidental Love" And Underwhelms

Those expressions sum up my response to Nailed Accidental Love.

Nowadays, David O. Russell is big shit in Hollywood. Releasing three straight films that collectively amass 25 Oscar nominations and $375 million will do that for you.

It's a pretty impressive turnaround when you consider where the writer-director's career was when Mark Wahlberg decided to bring him aboard The Fighter six years ago. At that time, he'd released just one film in the past 10 years (2004's poorly received I Heart Huckabees) and had garnered quite a reputation for his on-set feuds with the likes of George Clooney and Lily Tomlin.

Perceived as a bullying hothead, Russell's options became limited after the financial failure of Huckabees (which, to be fair, is a pretty fun, underrated flick). He was clearly talented -- Spanking the Monkey, Flirting with Disaster and Three Kings were proof of that -- but his films didn't make money and he was a pain in the ass.

It was in this time-frame that Russell began working on Nailed, a pre-Obamacare satire about public healthcare staring Jessica Biel and Jake Gyllenhaal. The production included another on-set disagreement with an actor, this time the legendary James Cann who actually left mid-production due to "creative differences." The film also had some dubious financiers and shut down production multiple times in 2008, ultimately halting permanently before filming was complete.

For years, Nailed held a certain allure, the lost Russell picture that never was. The filmmaker officially washed his hands of the film in 2010, and yet you'd still hear about it every now and then with word of a test screening here or submission to the MPAA there. Hoping to recoup something on their investment, the producers threw together an unapproved cut and got the film released on video earlier this year, albeit with Russell's name off the film and a title change to Accidental Love.

As evidenced by my effusive praise for American Hustle, I'm a big fan of Russell's work, so I rented Accidental Love the other day mostly as a form of completism. Given all I'd read over the years, I expected a half-assed, maybe even incoherent curiosity, but I also hoped to catch glimmers of inspiration hiding in the margins.

Unfortunately, there's really nothing to see here. Although I do think there's something to the notion that Russell's films really find their footing in the editing bay, the raw product here seems generally complete and it's all so goddamn pedestrian that it's hard to imagine how any sort of decent film could've been assembled from any of this.

I never expected the film to compare to Russell's other works, but the whole thing -- the writing, the character development, the pacing, the musical cues, the cinematography -- is on par with one of those straight-to-video National Lampoon comedies. It's that bad.

The film focuses on Alice (Biel), a waitress who is shot in the head by a nail gun, but is unable to have the nail removed because she doesn't have insurance. As a result of her newfound emotional volatility, wild thoughts and random diversions into speaking Portuguese, Alice is fired from her job and dumped by her plays-the-odds fiancé (a best-in-show James Marsden).

In an effort to have the nail removed and get her life back, Alice journeys to Washington, D.C. with two bizarrely injured sidekicks (Kurt Fuller, Tracy Morgan) in the hopes of convincing their weasley Congressman (Gyllenhaal) to push a bill that would provide health coverage for people with accidental injuries. Zany political bickering, slapstick hijinks and an unconvincing love triangle ensue.

The film is meant to be a farce with increasing levels of absurdity, but it feels like a slapdash piece of work put together by a snarky teenager. It's tempting to blame that on the unfinished nature of the endeavor, but given how much material is actually here, it's much more likely to be a script problem. The film aspires to the tone of something like 30 Rock, but despite the presence of Morgan (who seems like he's acting in another movie altogether), the film doesn't even come close to having that kind of comedic bite or control.

Watching the film, I was reminded of Mike Judge's Idiocracy, another zany satire that's not nearly as funny as it could be. But, the key difference is that Idiocracy works, while Accidental Love just doesn't. A lot of that has to do with how the films treat their topics and characters -- Idiocracy corrals that dumb sharpness that Judge is a master of, and, for all it's lunacy, makes its characters feel organic to the plot and somewhat dimensional. Meanwhile Accidental Love feels like it's not even trying at all, with whole characters, scenes and arcs seemingly grafted onto the film because, well, why not?

In my review of American Hustle, I wrote abut Russell's general approach, saying "Russell is playing connect the dots but refusing to draw straight lines. He’s working within the confines of convention, and yet his script is so zippy and filled with grace notes that there’s a real specificity to what he’s doing. It’s rare that Russell tries to wow with some story innovation; instead, he concentrates on character, putting effort not on this or that plot mechanic but on a palpable sense of depth, heart and humanity."

Unfortunately with Accidental Love, it seems the dots were randomly placed and that the broadness of the project was so unwieldy that Russell just decided to scribble on top of the whole thing. D

Fearless Franco Delivers in Subversive and Surreal 'Spring Breakers'

Mid-movie, the cast has a sing-along to Britney Spears' Everytime.
Seriously.

Spring Breakers isn’t a movie you watch so much as a film you experience. It’s an art film, but not in an urbane way. After all, the film does feature scenes that could be pulled straight from Cops, Girls Gone Wild and Grand Theft Auto, as well as James Franco playing a corn-rowed, tatted and gold-toothed drug-dealer named Alien who leads a cast sing-along to Britney Spears’ Everytime and simulates fellatio on a gun.

That makes the film sound like a campy comedy, but it’s really quite more than that. Although it’s darkly bonkers and emphatically provocative, at its heart, Spring Breakers is a melancholic message movie. It’s an indictment of an entire way of life embraced by a whole sect of shallow and desensitized youths – the spring break state of mind.

The bare-bones plot involves four college girls who rob a diner for the money to attend spring break in Florida, where they eventually befriend Alien and get mixed up in his decadent lifestyle and drug turf war. But really the story itself is of secondary concern – much more important is the way it’s told.

Writer/director Harmony Korine makes some interesting stylistic choices to create a surreal daze of a film. The most effective of these is the use of repetition, with some lines and even full on monologues being repeated multiple times. However, the varying color saturations, dissonant musical cues, hypnotic editing, and, hell, even the scene blocking, are all worth mentioning.

For his central quartet, writer-director Harmony Korine casts
three former Disney stars alongside his real-life wife.

The film’s casting is also noteworthy. Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens and Ashley Benson, all former child stars who made their names under the Disney banner, join Korine’s real-life wife Rachel to form the film’s central quartet.

Although the roles are intentionally underdeveloped, the against-type casting works to emphasize Korine’s genre subversion. One can easily imagine a glossy coming-of-age comedy starring these same actresses with this same exact title – Sisters of the Traveling Pants with a touch of Sex and the City thrown in. Korine knows this, and he exploits it to make a point about a party lifestyle that is simultaneously alluring and abhorrent.

As for Franco, well, it’s not a stretch to say pairing him with Korine could’ve been a real disaster since both have come to be known for a certain level of pretentiousness. However, the teaming proves to be a fruitful one. In Alien, they’ve created a uniquely contradictory, and perhaps even iconic, character. 

Although he’s glimpsed earlier in the film during a rap number (oh did I not mention he’s also a low-level rapper?), we first meet Alien when he bails the girls out of jail. It’s easy to think a character like this would trap these girls under his thumb and corrupt them via manipulation or force, but Alien is genial, uncontrolling and ultimately submissive to them. A man who came from nothing and has no family, Alien holds status and material things in the highest regard. He’s repulsively garish, and yet he’s also endearingly fragile and magnetically honest.

Although this could've been a Showgirls type of embarrassment,
Franco successfully navigates his way to a mesmerizing performance.

In some ways, he is a spiritual kin of Jay Gatsby (whose own movie treatment I reviewed earlier this year). There’s even a scene to mirror the one in which Gatsby proudly shows Daisy his lavish collection of clothing. Here, Alien proudly proclaims “look at my sheeyit” while pointing out his things, which include numerous automatic weapons, designer clothes, nun-chucks, and, best of all, a flat screen playing round-the-clock Scarface.

It’s a testament to Franco’s skills that he can take a ludicrous caricature like Alien and make him feel like a real human being. He’s turned this trick before of course – making Saul, the drug dealer from Pineapple Express, into far more of dynamic character than he had any right to be – but he’s working on a totally different level here. Alien could've proven an embarrassing undertaking, but Franco fearlessly puts his all into the role, coming across equal parts ridiculous and sincere. The end result is probably his best work to date.

Regardless of how one views the content of the film, it’s hard to argue against the craftsmanship on display. In a just world, the film would be a major player for end of the year awards in cinematography, editing, and directing. However, since Franco’s chances of a supporting nom are slim at best, I wouldn’t hold my breath on kudos for anything else.

It’s been weeks since I viewed this film, and, still, it lingers with me. Despite its experimental nature, Spring Breakers is an accessible film. It never approaches the frustrating ponderousness of something like 2001: A Space Odyssey, Synecdoche, New York or The Fountain. Whereas those films are undone by their sweeping ambition and opaque curiosities, Spring Breakers succeeds on the strength of a brisk pace and focused scope. With a run-time of 94 minutes, there’s very little fat on the film, and it manages to get in, captivate and get out before fatigue sets in. A-