The Pootie Tang Show
Say "pootie tang" once. Funny? Now say it twenty-five
times. Still funny? I happen to think so. And Pootie Tang, the movie written and directed by Louis C.K.,
produced by Chris Rock, starring what appears to be
The Chris Rock Show's entire writing staff, and spun
off from a sketch written for the show, is more than
just a one-joke exercise. Unlike the Saturday Night
Live movie-making machine, which spins feature-length
comedies from sketches that can barely hold together
for ten minutes, Pootie Tang holds the attention as
much as any music video or comic book, except when it
tries too hard to be a movie. It manages to do so in
part because it resembles a music video or comic book,
in its visual design and (lack of) plot development,
and in part because it boldly features Pootie Tang, a
black superhero/pop star who speaks a wacked-out
ebonics all his own. The result is a 21st-century
blaxploitation film shrink-wrapped in a colorful
plastic sheen of irony.
Lance Crouthier stars as the titular hero, ladies man,
and role model for the kids. Pootie Tang, whose
singular dialect consists of phrases like "sepatown"
and "wa-da-tow," is introduced during an interview
with Bob Costas, showing a clip from his new movie,
Sine Your Pitty on the Runny Kine. The clip turns
out to be Pootie Tang . . . or is it really a clip and
the Costas interview the movie? We're through the
looking glass -- or the cinema screen, or the TV
screen -- and into the movie. It becomes a Mobeius
strip of pop culture references, premised on an
in-in-joke that people who watch both Chris Rock and
Bob Costas will get. Such inter-television-ality
abounds in Pootie Tang. The creative team behind
The Chris Rock Show makes up the core cast, and the
film includes appearances by Conan O'Brien and his
former sidekick Andy Richter. Robert Vaughn, former
star of The Man From U.N.C.L.E., plays the villain,
and Laura Kightlinger of Saturday Night Live appears
as a newscaster. The strategy of creating a TV
universe for the movie, which actually takes place on
television as a video clip for the Bob Costas show, is
as effective as Lewis Carroll's or Stan Lee's framing
techniques, introducing an absurd social framework
where good is innocent and evil megalomaniacal.
The primary purveyor of "good" in Pootie Tang is, of
course, the manchild Pootie. In the beginning of Sine Your Pitty on the Runny Kine, Pootie grows up with
the stern Daddy Tang (Chris Rock),who wields his belt
with laser precision, whipping it snakelike, or like
Indiana Jones kills a rat or Buffalo Bill ropes a
steer. The belt even has the power to find Pootie,
wherever he may be, and knock an apple from his hand
before he applies a five-finger-discount. Daddy Tang
bequeaths the belt to young Pootie before dying of
wounds suffered when he is suddenly and inexplicably
attacked by a guy in a gorilla suit. A guy in a
gorilla suit? Is this simply a goofy gag, or does this
guy serve another function? Since 1933's King Kong
(actually a stop-motion effect gorilla), the gorilla
in Hollywood films, and the ape in general (Poe's "The
Murders in the Rue Morgue"), has typically functioned
as a symbol of white insecurity about "darkest"
Africa, and therefore, Africans. That this trope of a
gorilla lumbers onscreen out of nowhere and kills the
hard-working African American Daddy Tang is one
instance of Pootie Tang's repeated use of potent
racist stereotypes, as well as symbols of troubled
black masculinity and U.S. exploitation and
inequality.
For example, Dick Lecter (Vaughn), CEO of Lectercorp
and grown-up Pootie Tang's arch nemesis, embodies such
exploitation and inequality as corporate greed.
Lectercorp manufactures, distributes, and markets
cigarettes, alcohol, fast food, and narcotics. Lecter
foists these consumables onto the inner city through
Dirty Dee (Reg E. Cathey), dirt-encrusted pimp daddy
(another racist stereotype). Together, Lecter and
Dirty Dee gleefully get kids hooked on nicotine,
burgers, malt liquor, and an unnamed white powder,
until Pootie Tang hits it big with his heartfelt but
incomprehensible Public Service Announcements, in
which he tells the kiddies to stay away from drugs,
malt liquor, and bad food, while pictured spanking
Dirty Dee and his associates with his super-powered
belt, which he wields with the virtuosity of his pop.
Amid all the crime-fighting, Pootie still finds time
to record a pop hit single (actually a few minutes of
dead air recorded while Pootie silently emotes in R.
Kelly fashion without singing a word), and become a
superstar, loved by all the ladies.
But then Dick Lecter whips out his secret weapon,
i.e., Racial Trope #3, the white woman who leads a
black man to his doom. Lecter sends his girlfriend
Ireenie (Jennifer Coolidge, reprising her American
Pie and Down to Earth roles, as aging seductress)
to discover and disarm the secret of Pootie Tang's
success, his belt. When Ireenie snatches that belt,
he's left as limp as Sampson without his locks, and
signs a contract giving away all rights to his image
to Lectercorp, prompting a proliferation of Pootie
look-alikes (including Mr. Show's David Cross in
blackface), Pootie malt liquor ads, and a Pootie Tang
fast food chain.
Following this loss of "self," Pootie goes into exile
back at the farm. At the general store Pootie meets
dopey country girl Stacy (Cathy Trien) and her father,
the sheriff, who connives to marry her off to the
stranger in town. Stacy shows up at Pootie's farm and
he seduces her by rubbing himself down with cherry
pie, after which her father shoves a revolver in
Pootie's face, not to lynch him, but to administer a
wedding. Here we see a power dynamic in which white
males -- the CEO in the city, the sheriff in the
country -- pimp their own daughters and girlfriends.
This may sound like some pretty heavy stuff for
comedy, but Pootie Tang, despite its downright lame
plot, reveals the seams of racial, class, and gender
differences, as well as greed and celebrity, in the
American social fabric. Amid ironic displays of glitz
and glamour, the movie grounds its hero and message in
the inner city, with man-on-the-street interviews and
repeated images of Pootie's fans and supporters, the
working people and urban kids who idolize him.
Although both HBO Films and MTV, the distributors of
Pootie Tang, are themselves arms of media
conglomerate Viacom, a corporation at least as greedy
as Lectercorp, the film still slips in plenty of
biting satire, mocking the excesses and abuses of
corporate America, and proves Louis C.K., Chris Rock,
and co. have the chops to turn a funny sketch into a
funny movie. Still, let's hope that they don't, as
promised at the end of Sine Your Pitty on the Runny
Kine, bring us a sequel. Pootie's got more than one joke, but only enough for this single layered, but thankfully brief, outing.