Rotten Tomatoes Rating: 53%
IMDB Rating: 5.3/10
Josie and the Pussycats was released into cinemas in the spring of 2001 to compete with the likes of Bridget Jones’s Diary and Spy Kids, targeting itself as a broad family comedy particular suited for teenage girls and fans of teenage girls. It failed both commercially and critically, widely dismissed by the critics at the time as a bland, pop-orientated wish-wash of a film and grossing just over $14 million with a budget in excess of $22 million. The eminent Roger Ebert described it as “as dumb as the Spice Girls” and it seemed that audiences agreed; in fact, I am pretty certain its comparison with the high-kicking pop girl-power pop sensations were exactly the sort of associations the studio courted. Based around the titular all-singing, all-dancing heroines of the successful Archie comic books series and 1970s cartoon series, it seemed exactly the successful teenage-friendly family-film fodder in the same style as The Flintstones and Scooby Doo, both of which seem low on charm and high on box-office statistics. Throwing in a couple of ‘hip’ up-and-coming teen actresses that included Rachel Leigh Cook (fresh off the 1999 hit She’s All That) and Tara Reid (fresh from American Pie) and surely that would seal the deal? Perhaps they wouldn’t reinvent the wheel but they’d make a bit of cash. So where did it all go wrong? Well, perhaps it’s because that’s because the film didn’t quite deliver on what the studio ordered. Its actually rather good. Its actually rather interesting. On the surface, the film may look like the teeny-poppy-cheesy-schmaltzy-lovey-dovey-kissy-kissy-fest the studio probably wanted it to be and the critics dismissed it as but, if one delves a little deeper, this film isn’t about surfaces; it attacks those who dwell on surfaces. I believe the film to be a snappy, witty and, at times, almost scabrous satire of the consumerism embedded into mass-market media and the banality of populism. Its funny, its insightful and its toe-tapping entertainment as well. It may be not quite what the studio wanted but, as far as I’m concerned, its exactly what the film-buff ordered.
The basic plot is simple and silly enough: Josie (Rachel Leigh Cook) and her band mates Harmony (Rosario Dawson) and Melody (Tara Reid) are a struggling band in a small town whose distant dream is of one day becoming rock stars. This all seems very far-off and unattainable, that is until they met Wyatt Frame (Alan Cumming), who instantly offers them a record deal without hearing the music and whisks them off to the big city where, within a week, they become the next big thing with no.1 singles, pop videos, showbiz parties and adoring fans. What they do not realise is that Wyatt is involved in a sinister plot to control teenagers minds by embedding their music with subliminal advertisement and messaging so that the government can control the youth of today as well as keep the economy ticking along nicely. Will the band members be managed to realise the truth before its too late or will, etc, etc dramatic devices and stuff.
OK, its hardly Rashomon in turns of its plot construction and I would be hard pressed to argue that in terms of pure narrative alone there exists enough of the satire that I am arguing exists. But frankly, what I have described is just the train-tracks that the real ride takes place on, just the tip of the iceberg of writer/director duo Harry Elfont and Deborah Kaplan’s marvellous send-up of everything from boy band culture, the banality of the pop industry and the idiocy of the cult of celebrity. The film even aims a couple of its joke-spiced arrows at the movie industry itself, attacking these institutions for promoting conformity at the expense of individuality and for going after that which sells over that which has value. I’m not saying that these are particularly brave points or even complex ones. They maybe easy targets but targets that need to be attacked nonetheless, and what is admirable is that not only does the film actually have a consistency in its message - it never cops out or reconciles itself to these big corporations like so much mainstream satire is guilty of – but that it is not preaching to the converted. As discussed, this is a film aimed at young, teenage girls; it isn’t playing to a receptive audience of stuffy, over-intellectualising bores, like myself, who might consider themselves above popular culture anyway because they’ve skimmed through a couple of articles by Slavoj Žižek. These ‘safe targets’ are in fact exactly the institutions that a typical film like this would be in bed with. Instead of exploiting its target audience to watch the film, buy the merchandise and wash it all down with a giant coke, it is in fact inciting them to stand and rail against such things. The film mocks teenagers pack-like mentality, points out how ridiculousness of what is taken as meaningful at that age and suggests a utopian future where we all stop this nonsense. And it does all these things in a way that is broad enough, funny enough and briskly enough made to actually appeal to that audience. I think I’d have taken quite a bit of inspiration from the film if I’d seen it back when it was released.
The engaging script is aided greatly by a very good cast. Alan Cumming, playing the slimy music executive, is absolutely brilliant. He steals the show every single second he is on screen, knowing exactly what sort of pantomime performance is needed and turns what is a good part on the page into a brilliant part on screen. For my money its one of his best roles, certainly the role I smile the most about when I think of him. Parker Posey, the 90s “queen of the indies” according to Time Magazine, is equally fantastic as the villainess of the piece, really enjoying herself in the limelight of mainstream fair. The female leads all work well and enthuse their roles with the charisma and moxie needed (even if Tara Reid’s ditsy blonde routine does get a bit irritating at times) and there are great cameos appearances throughout as others get in on the lampooning, including Carson Daly, Donald Faison, Seth Green and Eugene Levy.
The engaging script is aided greatly by a very good cast. Alan Cumming, playing the slimy music executive, is absolutely brilliant. He steals the show every single second he is on screen, knowing exactly what sort of pantomime performance is needed and turns what is a good part on the page into a brilliant part on screen. For my money its one of his best roles, certainly the role I smile the most about when I think of him. Parker Posey, the 90s “queen of the indies” according to Time Magazine, is equally fantastic as the villainess of the piece, really enjoying herself in the limelight of mainstream fair. The female leads all work well and enthuse their roles with the charisma and moxie needed (even if Tara Reid’s ditsy blonde routine does get a bit irritating at times) and there are great cameos appearances throughout as others get in on the lampooning, including Carson Daly, Donald Faison, Seth Green and Eugene Levy.
But most interesting about the film is its use of product placement. The film is littered with it, absolutely covered from start to finish with brands and slogans and brands on top of slogans. Throughout the film, characters will stand consistently stand in sets decorated with ludicrous and overt sloganeering, ranging from standing behind giant SEGA signs in the middle of the road and have conversations surrounded by Reebox products in an office without acknowledging it. Many accused the film of being hypocritical for lampooning consumerism whilst presenting so much of it in the film, but bless them, they’ve missed the point entirely. Not a single brand featured in the film was paid for advertising but instead was chosen by the filmmakers. This isn’t the movie trying to make some quick cash, it’s an artistic decision, and what’s the point? Well, by taking these brands that litter the visuals of the modern, advertising-infested world and blowing them up, making their presence even more over, it seems to illuminate on the grostequeness and absurdity of these branding exercises. Characters get out of the shower and stand in a bathroom covered with McDonald’s Ms. They visit the aquarium and see great signs for Evian water that fish swim by. It makes the products themselves seem dim-witted – contrasting the grease-stained implications of a hamburger with cleanliness and hygiene, pitting supposedly ‘natural’ mineral water against, well, the sea. Given these juxtapositions, the products themselves seem stupid, their branding stupid and those the use them because of such advertising stupid. The visual excess of it seems to me similar to the 50s melodramas of Douglas Sirk, a filmmaker widely praised for his ability to pierce through the banality of the consumerism of the time through use of elaborate and colourful mise-en-scene. Elfont and Kaplan seem to be doing the same thing here but, rather than turning utilising visual excess through the fashions of households decorations and dresses as Sirk did, their canvases are logos and branding exercises. Whilst the film sets up a narrative of the subliminal messages of conformity, it actually does the opposite, feeding the viewer subtly and alternative world view of the hideousness of it all.
Josie and the Pussycats is a much more radical film then perhaps people realised first time around. Go check it yourselves, see if you can find the entrist delights I notice more and more each time I watch it. And even if you don’t see that, even if you dismiss it as the girly nonsense it was seen as first time around, then at least you’ll have Alan Cumming to see you through it all. Oh, and a bit of music as well (which, according to my DVD copy at least, was awarded 4 Stars by Empire Magazine. I do not know what that means but I suppose it might be good). Girl power… I guess.
