I Love Boosters: Boots Riley Dramedy a Mix of Kooky, Conceptual but Maybe a Tad Too Much

By Chris Knight

Rating: B-

Boots Riley needs to make more movies.

That’s not quite the endorsement it might sound like. It’s just that in all his movies to date — which is to say, both of them — he shoehorns in so many political ideas and ideals, half-baked science-fiction elements and kooky characters that viewers may suffer information overload, exhaustion or, worse, apathy.

Consider his debut feature, 2018’s Sorry to Bother You. It featured LaKeith Stanfield as a hard-luck Oaklander who gets a job as a telemarketer, a job at which he does poorly until his coworker suggests he use his “white voice.” It does wonders.

But what trailers and most critics (including this one) failed to mention was the appearance in the final reel of “equisapiens,” human-horse hybrids created by evil corporate interests. Talk about a film galloping off in all directions.

Similarly, I Love Boosters has a couple of twists that I won’t spoil, except to say that if you tell me you saw them coming, you’re either lying or you’re Boots Riley.

Again, trailers suggest a fairly simple setup. Keke Palmer plays Corvette, leader of a gang of “low-class urban bitches” (Demi Moore’s words, not mine) who steal high-end clothes from fashionista entrepreneur Christie Smith (Demi Moore, of course) and sell them at knock-off prices.

It’s a cleaver conceit — they’re technically committing a crime, but aren’t insanely expensive garments their own form of felony? And Moore’s character certainly seems able to afford some inventory shrinkage, even benefiting from the infamy of the sticky-fingered Velvet Gang.

But anyone expecting a straightforward sartorial caper is in for a surprise or six. In addition to the three main boosters (played by Palmer, Naomie Ackie, and Taylour Paige) there’s Poppy Liu as a late addition to the gang, toting some ill-gotten tech that tips I Love Boosters from crime comedy into fantasy/science fiction.

It’s already been flirting with this genre, thanks to LaKeith Stanfield’s turn as “Pinky Ring Guy,” who is not a human-horse hybrid but also not what he at first seems. Don Cheadle, meanwhile, makes a brief cameo as Dr. Jack, whose “Friends Being Friendly” pyramid scheme is exactly what it seems.

There’s also a heavy dose of left-wing politics. I Love Boosters is avowedly anti-capitalist, with a lot of plot points revolving around workers’ revolts that travel from Chinese sweatshops to monochromatic fashion stores to Christie Smith’s head office, which for some reason is in a leaning tower, tipped at 45 degrees.

It adds up to a fun ride, backed by a boppy, toe-tapping score by the Tune-Yards, who also worked on Sorry to Bother You and seem to include kazoos and pennywhistles in their box of instruments. Riley is consistently inventive in his shooting styles, mixing in animation that reminded me of Wes Anderson, and stop-motion creatures that looked like they escaped from an old Ray Harryhausen movie.

Palmer’s performance is superb; she commits to the ridiculousness of it all and gives things a human touch while (wisely) never trying to ground this high-flying comedy-melange-pastiche.

And yet I was a little disappointed at the end. For a guy who has dabbled in the messiness of real-world politics and activism, Riley seems content to let magic realism wish away some of the messier corners into which he paints himself.

There’s also a late-in-the-film scene that hangs for a long time on several characters’ reaction to something the audience can’t see. And when the reveal comes, I couldn’t help but think: Is that all it is?

I loved elements of the film, but I didn’t love I Love Boosters, although hyped-up fans of his earlier work are sure to get all they hoped for from it, and more.

For myself, I hope Riley makes it back to the big screen soon, with a narrower focus and a tighter narrative. He doesn’t need to go big to bring it all home.

I Love Boosters. Directed by Boots Riley. Starring Keke Palmer, Demi Moore, and Poppy Liu. In theatres May 22.

Jim SlotekComment