Commonly known as the land of opportunity, the United States has long-since boasted
the seemingly limitless ceiling of its capitalist economy and promised that people of all
backgrounds can achieve their dreams here through hard work and determination. While the
incentive to achieve a better life has brought purpose, ambition, and economic success to the
lives of many Americans, this same mindset creates a culture in which the concept of success is
closely tied to wealth– and, in some cases, even inseparable from it. Because capitalism plays
such a large role in American culture, major sacrifices are often framed as a necessary part of
achieving one’s professional or financial goals– the identity-altering effects of these sacrifices
often being overlooked. In his film Sorry to Bother You, Boots Riley employs an absurd, but
darkly comedic, aesthetic style to satirize the socioeconomic climate of the United States and its
tendency to challenge one’s identity. This is exemplified through the turmoil within the
protagonist, Cassius Green, as he struggles to remain true to his values and cultural roots in the
face of capitalist pressures such as the lure of wealth and status. As the satire becomes darker and
more intense throughout the film, it evokes a growing sense of discomfort that reflects the
severity of sacrificing one’s identity in order to conform and achieve selfish goals.
In its first few scenes, the film features relatively subtle satire to establish the minor but
growing influence that the aforementioned capitalist lures initially have on Cassius’s life. In the
opening scene, Cassius’s job interview at a telemarketing agency named RegalView appears to
take a turn for the worst when the interviewer points out that Cassius had lied about several
achievements and experiences on his resume. While Cassius scrambles to justify these lies by
adding that he “really [needs] the job”, the interviewer interrupts him with the unexpected news
that the fabricated resume tells the interviewer all he needs to know: Cassius has “initiative and
[knows] how to read” (Riley). The situational irony of a job interviewer entirely brushing aside
the tell-tale signs of an unqualified and untrustworthy employee reveals the film’s satirical
depiction of telemarketing as a facet of a capitalist system which prioritizes cheap and abundant
labor over quality employees. Making light of the way many industries operate with these
skewed priorities, the irony of this scene subtly undermines popularized and noble portrayals of
capitalism such as the meritocratic sentiments of the American Dream. Nonetheless, Cassius still
benefits from this haphazard screening process and appears to be extremely proud to have gotten
the job, despite the fact that he was hired for mostly illegitimate reasons.
In a redeeming fashion, Cassius shows greater mindfulness in his character the next
morning when he asks his girlfriend, Detroit, about an important existential topic: he wonders
whether he will leave a meaningful impact on this earth as he compares Detroit’s artistic pursuits
to his cycle of working menial jobs, like telemarketing, in order to “get by” financially (Riley).
Cassius’s train of thought about his legacy on earth– as well as the meaning he assigns to
Detroit’s artistic endeavors– reveals a genuine and thoughtful aspect of his personality which is
juxtaposed with the opportunistic and conniving traits that he demonstrated the night before
while trying to finesse his way into the telemarketing job. This marks the tension between
Cassius’s true nature and external pressures which challenge it.
After their conversation, Cassius and Detroit have an intimate moment which is
interrupted when the garage door opens unexpectedly, revealing the fact that Cassius is living
inside his uncle’s house– his bedroom being a garage with a faulty door. Though this scene
appears to carry lighthearted comedic relief on the surface, Cassius demonstrates his internal
embarrassment as he scrambles to close the door in order to hide himself from onlookers in the
street. Shortly after Cassius ponders the importance of having passion and purpose in life, the
events in this scene prompt him to confront the harsh reality of his situation: he is far from
financial freedom and feels embarrassed about his economic status– which highlights the
immediate urgency of simply “getting by” in contrast to the long-term goal of leaving a
meaningful legacy. At this moment of embarrassment and vulnerability, Cassius turns on the
television and sees a commercial for a business model called “Worry-Free” which “guarantees
employment and housing for life” (Riley). The only catch is that residents in this environment
would have to work and live in mass production factories. Although the Worry-Free commercial
has slightly absurd dystopian connotations resembling a system of slavery, Cassius entertains the
idea that it might be a feasible solution to his financial struggles, which indicates the severity of
his money-related concerns and the extent to which he is willing to go in order to resolve them.
As increasingly absurd symbols in the film are introduced, the socioeconomic factors that
pressure Cassius into sacrificing his black identity become more apparent. After beginning his
new telemarketing job at RegalView, Cassius initially struggles to make sales until he is
introduced to a different, more effective way of speaking known as the “white voice”. As
explained by fellow black coworker, Langston, the white voice is more than simply an
impersonation of white people; “‘it’s what they wish they sounded like’– like someone who has
‘their bills paid’ and who ‘isn’t worried about the future’” (Riley). Through this exaggerated yet
symbolic portrayal of the white voice, the film frames whiteness as a quality which is intertwined
with the ideals of financial comfort and capitalist success. This makes it seem necessary to adopt
the voice in order to succeed in the professional world. In her article in The New Yorker, Doreen
St. Felix goes further to argue that the film portrays whiteness as “a remote and impossible and
crazy-making hope” that “can trigger the treacherous assimilation of the black bourgeoisie to the
white status quo” (St. Felix). While prior satire in the film was carried out via subtle irony, the
presentation of the white voice is distinctly comical and absurd. Instead of being voiced by the
black actor who plays Cassius, Cassius’s white voice is dubbed by white actor David Cross,
whose tone is described by The New Yorker to be “psychotically chipper,” with a quality of “ease
and entitlement,” (St. Felix). Thus, Cassius’s decision to use the white voice emphasizes the
“crazy-making” appeal of whiteness in tandem with the deviation from black culture that the
white voice entails– the ridiculously out-of-place quality of the voice symbolizing the
identity-corroding nature of such a sacrifice. A blatant satire on the notion that corporate and
financial success is associated with whiteness, the introduction of the white voice extends the
cultural norm of workplace professionalism into an issue of racial assimilation for the sake of
success.
AT McWilliams of The Guardian points out the real-world issues that gave rise the
white voice phenomenon. Better known as “code-switching”, McWilliams argues that the white
voice is, in reality, “a tool for social mobility – or in the case of black people, a tool for survival
[that serves] as a defense against linguistic discrimination” (McWilliams). As exemplified by the
consistent success of the white voice in contrast to the repeated hang-ups that Cassius receives
when using his normal voice, McWilliams’ interpretation of code-switching as a defense against
discrimination is well-supported by the film. However, although Cassius initially employs the
voice as “tool for social mobility” by using his earnings to pay off his overdue rent and saving
his uncle from foreclosure, his continued usage of the white voice after achieving financial
freedom reflects his more selfish motivations. During one of Cassius’s training sessions at
RegalView, the managers introduce a hierarchy within the ranks– with Cassius and his peers
being classified as normal telemarketers and those who work upstairs in the building being
known as “Power Callers”. Though Cassius initially views the Power Caller program as a
gimmick to incentivize greater performance, his outlook changes when he realizes that Power
Callers make “a shit ton of money,” i.e. “Benz and expensive-house-payment type of money”
(Riley). Cassius’s interpretation of the salary increase as a means to buy expensive cars and
houses reveals his increasingly materialistic motivations for using the white voice at RegalView.
This also marks a selfish progression from his original intention to use the white voice in order to
earn the money needed to “get by” financially. Thus, Cassius’s usage of the white voice becomes
more about greed than social mobility as the capitalist lures, embodied in the appeal of being a
Power Caller, begin to take a greater foothold in Cassius’s mind.
From a working-class telemarketing job to the elite and lucrative position of Power
Caller, Cassius faces exponentially increased pressure to accommodate the toxic culture of his
workplace. The satirical portrayal of these pressures now create a darkly unsettling effect rather
than a humorous one, thus revealing the full extent of Cassius’s identity transformation as well as
the severity of such a change. Towards the end of the film, a bizarre and borderline nonsensical
sequence of events unfold: it is revealed that, as a Power Caller, Cassius is selling a form of slave
labor for Worry-Free, though he continues to make sale after sale until he eventually generates
enough revenue to get noticed by Worry Free CEO Steve Lift. Lift invites Cassius to a party
where he snorts a line of a powder-like substance that later transforms him into a horse-human
hybrid species known as the equisapien (Riley). When visiting Mr. Lift, Cassius is praised for his
massive contributions to the company; however, he is admired for his capitalist success rather
than respected for his true identity, as seen when Mr. Lift asks Cassius to perform a rap for
himself and the crowd of white women in the room. Clearly uncomfortable, Cassius makes it
clear that he cannot rap, although Mr. Lift and the audience continue to pressure him into doing
so, indicating that they view him as a spectacle rather than an equal. Nonetheless, Cassius
succumbs to these pressures and delivers a few poorly received rhymes before altering his lyrics
to a rhythmic and energetic repetition of the n-word in order to give the crowd what they really
want: a performance that adheres to the racial stereotypes they had projected onto him. Through
this cringe-worthy and deeply uncomfortable scene, Cassius’s betrayal of his cultural heritage
and his own self-respect is made potently clear. And, the reduction of Cassius’s identity does not
stop there. Although Cassius is pushed well past his comfort zone and wants to leave the party,
Mr. Lift offers him a ridiculously large sum of money in order to convince him to stay and snort
a line of what appears to be cocaine. Once again, Cassius cannot resist the lure of his own greed
and snorts the substance that ultimately turns him into a sub-human beast whose sole purpose is
to labor in Worry-Free factories with greater efficiency and endurance than humans. Despite the
wealth, status, and glamorous lifestyle that Cassius had achieved via his capitalist pursuits, he is
ultimately seen as nothing more than a tool to generate greater wealth for Worry-Free. Ironically,
he is still not valued as an individual by the system of capitalism which he had sacrificed nearly
everything for.
Towards the end of the film, Cassius is nearly unrecognizable as the down-to-earth and
mindful person he was first introduced as. The absurdity of his transformation into an equisapien
makes it clear that Cassius has completely forfeited his identity– his values, cultural integrity,
and even his physical form– for the sake of his own greed and the twisted form of capitalism that
fueled it. In response to the permeating yet often overlooked effects of capitalism on American
culture, the film’s gradual distortion creates a smooth transition that prompts the viewer to draw
parallels between present-day America and Cassius’s fictional dystopian world. When the
absurdity climaxes, the viewer is forced to confront the dark consequences that underlie a life
which is too closely intertwined with the vision of capitalist success. Ironically titled Sorry To
Bother You, the film sends a purposefully bothersome message.
Works Cited
Riley, Boots, director. Sorry to Bother You. Fox, 2018.
St. Félix, Doreen St. “The Twisted Power of White Voice in ‘Sorry to Bother You’ and
‘BlacKkKlansman.’” The New Yorker, The New Yorker, 14 Aug. 2018,
www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/the-twisted-power-of-white-voice-in-sorr
y-to-bother-you-and-blackkklansman.
McWilliams, AT. “Sorry to Bother You, Black Americans and the Power and Peril of
Code-Switching | AT McWilliams.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 25 July
2018, www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jul/25/sorry-to-bother-you-white-voice-code-swit
ching.
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