Release Date: April 11, 2001
Starring: Rachael Leigh Cook, Tara Reid, Rosario Dawson, Alan Cumming, Parker Posey, Gabriel Mann, Paulo Costanzo, Missi Pyle, Tom Butler
Directed by: Harry Elfont, Deborah Kaplan
Written by: Harry Elfont, Deborah Kaplan
Distributed by: Universal Pictures
MPAA Rating: PG-13 (language, sensuality)
It's difficult to consider Josie and the Pussycats a true remake because the characters are of such insignificant origin that you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who is substantially aware of it. In point of fact, co-writer/directors Harry Elfont and Deborah Kaplan's film isn't really about Josie and her gang, except of course to borrow the names and likenesses of the Archie-spawned punk rockers; it's more about the phenomena of teenage pop culture trendiness and subliminal marketing, mixed in with a bit of social criticism. But Elfont and Kaplan may have overstepped their bounds this time, because the medium of the teen comedy destroys the credibility of their message of anti-commercialism and individualism.
Josie and the Pussycats is still a fun movie -- probably more fun than you think it is -- given all of the weighty, unwieldy themes that Kaplan and Elfont have set out to incorporate into their film. For the most part, this is because the two work much better on the small scale, firing puns and jabs into the underbelly of corporate, mass-produced America, or taking tongue-in-cheek cuts on their own absurdity. This may be why their last film to attempt to subvert teenage culture, the 1998 romantic comedy Can't Hardly Wait, was more successful -- because it focused on a smaller, more primal ritual of teenage living, the last hurrah of senior year of high school. In Josie, though, they're attempting to criticize a far broader phenomenon with the same set of paltry, one-dimensional teenage characters; obviously, it doesn't work as well.
For instance, the movie features three of the prettiest young things in Hollywood (Rachael Leigh Cook, Rosario Dawson, and Tara Reid) as punk rockers recruited by an evil record company, Megarecords, as part of a master plan to subliminally market staples of pop culture to teenagers everywhere. But Cook, Dawson, and Reid are products of the system that the movie preaches against; and furthermore, when they are victorious in the end, it's hard to believe they would be the ones to topple the machinations of popularity.
Of course, there is some satire involved in the whole shebang. The smartest move by Kaplan, Elfont, and company was selling the rights to use an obscene amount of products and names in the movie, like Abercrombie & Fitch, Heath Ledger, Snapple, Adidas, Coke, and others. The movie's awareness of pop culture, though it will become dated quickly (a none-too-subtle side effect of the movie's unfortunate desire to conform, and a sort of contradiction-in-terms regarding its own message), makes it far more hilarious than it might have been using only vague or artificial product placement. Sometimes the aspect of self-awareness gets a bit too cutesy and convenient, as when real-life fiancées Tara Reid and MTV television personality Carson Daly (playing himself) have a scene in which they boldly proclaim they would never date each other. But by and large the spastic, exaggerated frenzy of pop culture works.
And then there's the surprisingly clever and well-thought-out subplot involving the plot by Megarecords to take over the world via subliminal marketing. Ever wonder why so many rock stars die in drug overdoses or plane crashes? Turns out they discovered the secret plot and were rubbed out by Megarecords secret agents -- and such elimination procedures are initiated by uttering a risible code phrase ("Smells like teen spirit," mutters Alan Cumming's deliciously spiteful bad guy into his shirtsleeve). Cumming, partnered with Parker Posey, forms the backbone of this secret organization that becomes Kaplan and Elfont's main vehicle of satire. In point of fact, it's their way of simply running down a laundry list of gripes against popular culture, and since they make no bones about it, it should've delivered much more. But unfortunately it gets trampled underfoot, lost between the ill-conceived love story (necessary to sell tickets) and the abbreviated, attention span-friendly running time of 95 minutes.
In this manner the ending is too abrupt and comes as a reality check: this is not a valid example of social criticism but rather a teen comedy with a bit more ambition than most. In fact, it is only this self awareness that distances it from the likes of its lesser cousins, as lead actresses Dawson, Cook, and Reid all turn in one-note performances. As usual, the supporting players (especially Paulo Costanzo, from Road Trip) had more to offer but were all but nixed from the film by the judicious chaps in post-production.
And when the end does come, it's that contrived, "let's-hurry-it-up" kind that is the real staple of teen comedies -- it ends so emptily after a promising beginning. Essentially, Kaplan and Elfont knew what they wanted to do with Josie, but became daunted by the prospects of it and did a halfway job instead. Which, being so typical of the genre, might have been something for them to examine instead.
all contents © 2001 Craig Roush