Boots Riley’s I Love Boosters Review

A cheeky takedown of capitalism served up in signature Boots Riley (Sorry to Bother You) bizarre fashion, I Love Boosters plays with philosophy and absurdity to unfurl a film that’s equal parts romp and political statement. Sewn into its very fabric (pun so intended) is a brilliantly laid narrative about workers’ rights and the power of collective action.

The film opens with Corvette (Keke Palmer) scanning the club for potential customers. See, Corvette and her friends Mariah (Taylour Paige) and Sade (Naomi Ackie) are The Velvet Gang, a crew of “boosters” who steal name brand clothing to sell at slashed prices. “Fashion-forward philanthropy,” as Mariah calls it throughout the film. As is thematic of Riley’s projects, we’re living in a sort of liminal space between the real and surreal here where inane circumstances are played totally straight. A tilted luxury high rise has rooms that are steeply angled, Mariah has the ability to hold her breath in order to turn into a light-skinned version of herself (played by Robin Thede), cartoon physics give “Tom-and-Jerry-take-on-capitalism” vibes, and so on. Meanwhile, an eclectic, plucky score by music duo Tune-Yards punctuates Riley’s comedy near-perfectly.

Visual gags and carefully curated, colorful wardrobes make Boosters a feast for the eyes. This is truly a below-the-line triumph, a testament to the craftspeople of Hollywood that also takes its time to honor the craftspeople behind our own everyday wear. Production designer Christopher Glass (Ms. Marvel, The Jungle Book), costume designer Shirley Kurata (Opus, Everything Everywhere All at Once), set decorator Lizbeth Ayala (Civil War, Atlanta) and so many more are truly at the top of their game here. Feathers, satins, silks, and avante-garde maximalism are all on display. The Velvet Gang’s costumes are so perfectly tailored to contrast harmoniously, rather than discordantly, the monochrome landscapes of the fictional Metro Designers retail locations. For all their frustration with a system that keeps them out, they ultimately revere and aspire to the spaces from which they “steal.”

(I say “steal” because Riley posits that the fruits of labor belong to the masses that engage in their production. Guess what?! Turns out this film is a 105-minute Marxist treatise exploring dialectical materialism. I’m not making that up, there’s a whole scene dedicated to spelling this out for us.)

I Love Boosters is an improvement upon Riley’s first feature, Sorry to Bother You, where he worked to untangle ideas about labor, capital, self and collectivity. There’s 100% less horse-man hybrids in the third act of Boosters, sure, but abundant criticism of the billionaire class and its manipulation of public opinion for political purposes. There’s an evil think tank and everything! Riley is consistently brilliant at wrapping these criticisms in a package so genuinely insane, so delightfully outlandish yet heart-wrenchingly earnest that you can’t help but have a good time. He’s not interested in indicting The Velvet Gang for theft. Rather, he uses I Love Boosters to suggest a link between their “fashion-forward philanthropy” and burgeoning unionization efforts globally.

The Velvet Gang encounter fed-up retail worker Violeta (Eiza González), determined factory worker Jianhu (Poppy Liu), billionaire fashion designer Christie Smith (Demi Moore), the mysterious Pinky Ring Guy (LaKeith Stanfield) and cameos from so many other stars stomping around this campy playground.

If there’s one complaint, it’s that the film occasionally gets lost in its own world. While not every element of a film must contribute to its overall plot, too many distractions in a project as deliberately strange as this one have the potential to derail its direction. Pinky Ring Guy may be our best example: While Stanfield puts in as enigmatic a performance as always, his character ultimately amounts to nothing more than a sort of inside joke about cunnilingus. It works but only just.

Our core four, The Velvet Gang and Jianhu, bounce off each other’s scenework beautifully, toeing the incredibly fine line of making absurdist circumstances seem strange but believable in the context of the world Riley has built. Jianhu’s appearance is a catalyst for most of the film’s second half, leaving Liu with the particular task of skillfully slotting herself into Palmer, Paige, and Ackie’s established dynamic. Palmer as lead is the film, creating a character so relatable in her anxieties, insecurities and aspirations that it tempers some of the wackiness so that I Love Boosters stays grounded when it needs to.

I Love Boosters feels like the cinematic equivalent of a “song of the summer,” something with the potential to culturally define the era in which we live. It’s incisive but not despondent. Instead it weaves together this fabric (got you again) of hope rooted in community and collective action.