Josie and the Pussycats (2001)

reviewed by
Jon Popick


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The good news is that Josie and the Pussycats isn't nearly as bad as fellow comic-book-to-film duds Dudley Do-right or The Flintstones. The bad news is that the producers chose to target the pre-pubescent girl market instead of the horny, single, thirty-something guy demographic. We...I mean they are the ones who made the show popular as they dreamed of marrying Josie and having cute little cartoon babies with tails, so the film may seem like somewhat of a betrayal to that particular sect.

Seriously. In the Hanna-Barbera cartoon, the Pussycats wore leopard-skin bodysuits, but they've been abandoned for more hip threads. The cat ears just aren't cute enough, although the low-cut tops kind of help. Many people don't realize the historical significance of the television show, which, I think, was one of the first cartoons about a rock band to feature a black character (the NAACP website doesn't keep track of stuff like that). Although Valerie wasn't in the original comic book Pussycat lineup, she was a trendsetter - a strong, smart black character added to the white mix some 25 years before prime-time network shows started doing the same.

The film, which is surprisingly funny, begins at an airport where the world's hottest boy band is being mobbed by their squealing teenage fans as they board their private jet. DuJour (played by Seth Green, Alexander Martin, Breckin Meyer and Donald Faison), which, I think, is French for One-Hit Wonder, is managed by the sinister, he'd-twirl-a-moustache-if-he-had-one record executive Wyatt Frame (Spy Kids' Alan Cumming), who sees the boys are in their 14th minute of fame and decides it's time to "replace" them with a newer, hipper band.

Enter The Pussycats, a struggling band from Riverdale (it was Midvale in the comic, but who's counting) who perform to unenthusiastic bowlers at the local alley. Frame swoops in, signs the girls and takes them to the top of the charts in just one week. But the Pussycats don't realize Frame and his equally diabolical boss, Fiona (Parker Posey, Best in Show), are inserting subliminal messages into their songs. The secret messages tell listeners, among other things, that the Pussycats are the greatest band ever, that Diet Coke is the new Pepsi One, and that Can't Hardy Wait was underrated (Harry Elfont and Deborah Kaplan also wrote/directed that film).

The Pussycats are suspicious of their quick success but are easily distracted by various things. Drummer Melody Valentine (Tara Reid, Just Visiting) is just too dumb to pay attention, bassist Valerie Brown (Rosario Dawson, Down to You) is too concerned that she's not getting enough credit, and Josie (Rachael Leigh Cook, Blow Dry) is too busy trying to get Alan M. (Gabriel Mann, Outside Providence) to say that he loves her.

Josie is short on story but long on quick gags and inside jokes. There's the obligatory makeover scene once the girls get their record contract, and it's as stylish as hell, thanks to Requiem For a Dream's cinematographer Matthew Libatique. There's a ton of pop culture references and appearances from music movers and shakers like Serena Altschul, Reid's real-life braintrust boyfriend Carson Daly, and a hysterical cameo from executive producer Kenneth "Babyface" Adams.

The music is decent, with Letters to Cleo's Kay Hanley handling the lead vocals while the three Pussycats provide the Linda McCartneyesque background voices. In the cartoon, Valerie played the tambourine, but effortlessly switches to bass here. She does well, looking as bored as a bass player should. The press notes make a big deal about the three women carefully learning how to play their instruments to make the film look more real, but I don't think I saw Reid hit the drums once.

Here's a quick thought about product placement in films, which is the most evil thing this side of Scientology. There's enough in Josie's first five minutes to pay for it and two or three sequels, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Films that make product placement integral to the plot (like Mystery, Alaska) think they've found a way around being labeled as sellouts, but their activity is completely shameful. It would be just as easy to make a picture with fictitious advertisers and salvage a few threads of integrity (like Repo Man). It's also odd to see a film about brainwashing, conformity and product placement without any ads for The Gap.

1:38 - PG-13 for language and sensuality

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