+ another review of Josie and the Pussycats by Ben Varkentine
Beware of the music
As demonstrated by artists as different from one another as Eminem, Blink-182, and Andy Dick, there are many jokes to be made at the expense of the current crop of pop stars. Sheesh, even MTV's Total Request Live, so obviously devoted to promoting and
exploiting Britney Spears, Samantha Mumba, 'Nsync,
Christina Aguilera, the Backstreet Boys, Mandy Moore,
Dream, 98 Degrees, Eden's Crush, O-Town, etc. etc., is
just fine with making fun of its cash cows. The kids
are easy targets, and mostly very good sports about
the whole business.
And so you won't likely be startled or even very
impressed with the ingenuity of the opening scene in
Josie and the Pussycats, which takes place on a
tarmac, as a flamboyantly decked out boy band deplanes
and greets their fervent fans. When the so-aptly named
Du Jour spins into song and dance, it's clear that
they have the BSB moves down, from the turn on their
heels to the dramatic fingers across the eyes, from
the billowing coats to the arms gesturing wide to
indicate the extent of their fabulous luuuv.
(Apparently to italicize the satire, the lyrics of
this song, "Backdoor Lover" are decidedly racier than
most of the "real" boy bands -- please note the scare
quotes, as "real" is mostly irrelevant when it comes
to boy bands, except when discussing fans' devotion.)
The girlies scream, the photographers snap pix, the
handlers handle, and the boys are whisked off to their
next gig aboard their label-owned jet. During the
flight, Travis (Seth Green), Marco (Breckin Meyer),
Les (Alexander Martin), and the black one (Donald
Faison) argue and fret, while Wyatt (Alan Cumming)
attempts to keep their outsized egos under some
control. "Remember," they sloganize at one another,
"Du Jour means cleanliness" and "Du Jour means
friendship." Yeah, yeah, we all know that Du Jour
means money. But to ensure that meaning, they have to
behave. Realizing that the boys in this band are
getting a little too fractious, Wyatt decides it's
time for a new act.
This is the moment where Josie and the Pussycats --
Josie McCoy (Rachael Leigh Cook), Melody Valentine
(Tara Reid), and the Latina one, Valerie Brown
(Rosario Dawson) -- come into his field of vision.
Literally, they cross the street while carrying their
instruments and find themselves deerlike in the
headlights of Wyatt's car. Though they wonder at the
speed of their good fortune (Wyatt doesn't even ask to
hear them play before he whips out the contract),
within minutes, the girls in the band (real lead
vocals by Kay Hanley, ex-Letters to Cleo, with backup
by Bif Naked and the actors themselves), are signed
with a major label and on their way to the Big City,
where they will be made over and packaged for sale.
Contrived and ridiculous as it sounds, the above set
up is, as they say, only the beginning. The rest of
Josie and the Pussycats, written and directed by
Harry Elfont and Deborah Kaplan, concerns a very silly
scheme by the label (played by self-parodying Parker
Posey) to control kids' desires through subliminal
messaging (to file under duh!: Melody receives a
secret message on her bathroom mirror: "Beware of the
music"). This is the most retarded element in the
plot. Adults just don't get it -- kids don't need
extra impetus to buy Revlon, Starbucks, Reeboks,
Diesel, Pizza Hut, McDonalds, Target, Gatorade, or
Coke. Much like adults, kids buy what they can with
their disposable income. For teens and pre-teens, it's
not about morality; it's about finding an identity and
trying on possibilities -- they're on their way
somewhere else, and they know it. And of course, Josie
learns to say "I love you" to her utterly dull
boyfriend Alan M (Gabriel Mann) and all three girls
learn that being friends is more important than being
in a band. They sell a lot of records too.
The movie pretends that there's something else at
stake, namely, the free minds of America's youth. But
its satire about the music biz, its stars, star-making
process, dastardly promoters and label masterminds --
in short, all the "trend pimps" -- as well as its
chattel-like consumers, is tired already. The targets
themselves have already been there and done that.
Consider 2Gether, the "fake" boy band that MTV
concocted for a tv movie and series satirizing the pop
process? Like Eminem, Blink-182, and Andy Dick -- who
have been downright mean in their spoofs -- the band
members all too old to be called boys) are bona fide
pop stars now. This despite and because of the fact
that they make delirious fun of boy-bandness,
performing broad melodrama on and off stage, and nasty
songs about the hysteria that comes with youthful
romance (in "The Hardest Part About Breaking Up,"
is... "Getting back your stuff!").
The doubleness of the satire -- that kids recognize it
as such and recognize their participation in the
process -- is partly tribute to the wisdom of young
consumers. They know. And they buy the lunch-boxes and
lip-gloss anyway. Even Mr. Awesome himself, Carson
Daly, gets it. In a perverse cameo as himself, he
calls himself "a key player in the plan to brainwash
the whole of the nation's youth with pop music." No
one cares! He then tries to beat dumb-blond Melody to
death with a baseball bat. Need I remind anyone that
Tara Reid and Daly are affianced? It may be that this
"inside fact" is supposed to make their cartoonish
life-and-death struggle all the more hilarious, but
the effect is more like an awkward pause in the
action. Really, no one cares.
The very population whom the film appears to represent
and target might find the movie uninteresting, too
obvious and tame: there's nothing newsworthy here:
even the fashions the girls are wearing -- those
way-low-riding pants and scarf tops -- are a few
minutes too late. You might say that Josie and the Pussycats gets half the story right -- it is insecure
and anxious adults who still think there are fixed
lines defining what's cool or right or real, opposed
to what's uncool or wrong or fictional. Most kids --
at least those who might imagine themselves
momentarily reflected in MTV and the world of Josie --
know better.
And still, the machine grinds on. The real payoff here
is in the tie-in products, and in the music: Josie and
the Pussycats' video for "Three Small Words" premieres
on TRL on April 11. Corporate rock still sucks. And
so what?