The satirical romp Josie and the Pussycats (2001) is a fun movie. But is it a great rock ‘n’ roll movie?
Eh, not so fast on that second one. Welcome back to Glide’s quest for what makes a good rock ‘n’ roll movie. Last month, we looked at Almost Famous, a great launching pad because it gets so much right. And every first Friday, we’ll take another look at a rock ‘n’ movie and ask what it means in the larger pantheon. This month, the Glide’s screening room brings you Josie and the Pussycahttps://glidemagazine.com/322100/almost-perfect-why-almost-famous-sets-the-gold-standard-for-rock-movies/ts. The film is a live-action take on the classic comic-and-cartoon property of a sugary, all-girl rock trio that exists in the world of Riverdale, a.k.a. fictional home of the iconic Archie Andrews.

But this Josie has next to nothing to do with Riverdale and is instead a satire of consumerism and ’00s boy bands. A worthy target, and a topic that has stayed worthy in the quarter-century since Josie dropped. The film was not a hit, but it has become something of a cult classic (like many movies featured in this series).

The plot is fairly simple. Wyatt Frame, an evil corporate type, is making piles of money off boy band Du Jour. They start to wise up to his evil scheme and have to be… taken care of. Frame needs a new group to front his plot, which revolves around mind control to push consumer culture. Enter Josie and the Pussycats, who are about to have a whirlwind ride to the top. And along the way, foil a plot with tentacles so far-reaching they have ensnared… Carson Daly?

Josie is a fun, clever movie, but it doesn’t have a whole lot to say about real rock ‘n’ roll, unless you want to simply accept a perspective that it’s just another cynical consumer-driven product. Even that is an argument that can be made, as long as you’re willing to ignore underground and indie scenes and passionate artists making amazing music.

And it is true that this is a theme of Josie. The band triumphs at the end via their authentic music. But it somehow doesn’t feel authentic, which makes it something of a hollow victory. Let’s consider the criteria already established for a good rock ‘n’ roll movie, and how Josie delivers on that front. The first is in the characters department. The film dodges the previously established Buckethead Paradox, which states that “The real-life rock stars are so much larger than life that you can’t make up credible fictional versions. There is no way someone like Buckethead would come out of a writer’s room and make it to a screen.”

For better or worse, Josie dodges the Paradox by essentially embracing it. The characters themselves are cartoons, and there’s no effort at realism. Given that intent is a huge part of art, it seems unfair to call these characters “cartoons” as a criticism, and it should probably be a compliment. At the same time, they aren’t particularly memorable, which is not a great quality.

And—as a bonus—Tara Reid is perfectly cast as drummer Melody Valentine. Josie was a few years after her turn in Around the Fire (1998), an unintentionally hilarious classic that plays like a jam band afterschool special from the producers of Reefer Madness (look for this amazing film in an upcoming piece).
The acting in general is good, with Rachel Leigh Cook as Josie McCoy and Rosario Dawson as bassist Valerie Brown rounding out the band. And Alan Cumming almost steals the show as sleazy corporate weasel Wyatt Frame.

The character of Wyatt is the film’s funniest riff on a rock ‘n’ roll archetype: the sleazy, corporate manager accompanied by assorted crooked accountants. From Colonel Tom Parker to Albert Grossman to The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle. It’s all about the benjamins. Which is where the music comes in. If the music is good, that’s what makes it worth it. And Josie’s music has aged particularly well. It’s well-recorded, produced and executed. The songs are particularly catchy. The vocals are by Kay Hanley of Letters to Cleo. Much of the soundtrack sounds like a lost album from The Muffs, and one wonders why Kim Shattuck wasn’t involved.

There’s an argument that power pop was never supposed to be dangerous, and that the Muffs aren’t dangerous either. Fair on the surface, but they played real punk clubs and came from a real scene. There’s not even a hint of that in Josie. So an argument that they play pop punk (which they kinda do) is really lacking the punk part.
And it was produced by Babyface, of all people. While that doesn’t seem like it should lead to great rock ‘n’ roll, sometimes preconceptions are wrong.

That said, this is a very commercial product and sound—as catchy as it is—so maybe it’s not a misconception. Maybe the right question to ask is whether it’s all too perfect? And that’s what gives this ostensibly rock ‘n’ film a smoothed-down edge? After all, the basic ingredients are there. But part of what makes good rock good is that it feels actually dangerous. Maybe there are some actual subversive messages, or a genuine counterculture scene. And Josie simply isn’t that film. The soundtrack is fondly remembered enough that Hanley appeared live and performed the songs at a screening in 2017. That appearance also included the film’s stars Cook, Dawson and Reid.

It’s worth noting that while Cook and company obviously lip sync to the songs in the film, their performances are credible. They went through instrument boot camp, so they pull off the parts.

In the end, the film is primarily a satire of consumer culture. And even more strangely, is loaded with actual product placement. Clearly, the joke was intended to “hit harder” with real products, but having Target in the film constantly makes it feel like more of what it is parodying than a parody. Where’s the joke if the viewer actually pushes to shop at Target while watching the film? And if the filmmakers actually took money (which they almost certainly did)?

And perhaps that is the lesson for this month: a great rock ‘n’ roll movie needs to have something to say about the larger meaning or culture of the music. And while Josie may have a lot to say about culture in general, and it may say it in a fun and likeable way, it’s just not very rock ‘n’ roll. There’s no grit. Now, does it have some things to say about being in a band? Yes, though they are arguably true of most collaborations.

If someone in a hundred years wanted to understand early 21st century rock, Josie and the Pussycats is a bad choice. It doesn’t show the sweat of a performance or the smell of beer. But it’s a great choice for anyone looking for a light-hearted, fun watch with a great soundtrack. We could all use some sugar in our lives these days.
Join us again next month, when we’ll look at one of the inspirations for Josie, A Hard Day’s Night, the legendary first film from The Beatles

This article contains spoilers for Season 2, Episode 9 of “The Pitt.”

Midway through Season 2, “The Pitt” has taken on the perils of the digital age and given me a reason to love the show as much as everyone else does.

Don’t get me wrong — I understand perfectly why so many people, including recent Emmy and Golden Globe voters, have lost their minds over the HBO Max medical drama: The propulsive day-in-the-life of a Pittsburgh ER conceit, the dazzling ensemble cast, the writers’ heroic attempts to showcase our perilously broken healthcare system, the healing power of empathy and, of course, the Noah Wyle-ness of it all. His brilliant and gentle-voiced Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch is as aspirational a character on television as we’ve ever seen.

But having recently spent almost six hours passing out and vomiting from pain in the waiting room of my local ER (which was empty except for one other man), while being told there was nothing anyone could do until the next shift arrived, I confess I have watched “The Pitt” with a jaundiced eye. The regular crowd shots of the waiting room too often reduce the afflicted into a zombie-like horde bent on making life more difficult for our beloved medical staff.

Sure it’s tough to work in an ER when you are worried about your mother’s expectations, grieving your dead mentor, struggling with addiction or worrying about your sister, but no doubt many of those in the waiting room are experiencing similar issues while also in terrifying and hideous pain.

I’m just saying.

In this second season, however, “The Pitt” gave me reason to cheer. It chronicles the day before Robby is set to leave on a three-month sabbatical, and in the early hours, we meet his temporary replacement, Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi (Sepideh Moafi). Having already attempted to force those suffering in waiting rooms to create their own “patient portals,” Dr. Al-Hashimi goes on to advocate for an AI-supported system to aid the doctors with pesky paper work.

Robby, of course, does not think any of this is a good idea and since he is always right (and no television writer is going to openly promote AI), her plan backfires almost immediately. First, with a medical notes transcription that gets Very Important words wrong and then after a complete digital blackout.

After a nearby hospital is hacked and ransomed, the higher-ups decide to defend its system by shutting it down, which means business must be conducted in the old-fashioned, paper-and-clipboards way.

The result is chaos, and a few too many jokes about young people not knowing how to work a fax machine or manage paper. Some of the more seasoned staff, including and especially the indefatigable charge nurse Dana Evans (Katherine LaNasa), remember the days before everyone carried an iPad well enough to keep things moving. Even so, Dana wisely calls upon the services of “retired” clerk Monica Peters (Rusty Schwimmer).

“Laid off by the digital revolution, not retired,” Monica corrects her. “And how’s all this digital s— working out for you now?”

This is where I cheered. I love the digital world as much as the next person currently typing on a computer to file a story that I have discussed with my editors on Slack and that I will not see in hard copy until it appears in the physical paper. But like pretty much everyone, I have suffered all manner of digital breakdowns and mix-ups, not to mention the inevitably increased workload that comes with the perception that I can do the work of previous multitudes with a few additional strokes of a keypad.

Except, of course, that’s a lie — a keypad is capable of nothing on its own. Neither are fingers, for that matter. They must be manipulated by someone whose brain has to figure out and execute whatever needs to be done. This requires an ability to navigate the ever-changing tech systems that store and distribute information (often in ways that are not at all intuitive) while also understanding the essentials of the actual work being done.

In “The Pitt,” that is the emergency medical treatment of human beings, which requires all manner of physical tasks. As this storyline makes clear, many of the medical staff do not quite understand how to order or handle these tasks without a screen to guide them.

Hence the need for Monica, representative of a large number of support workers who do understand because it was once their job to keep everything moving, to answer all manner of questions, prioritize what needs to be fast-tracked and make sure nothing falls through the cracks while also engaging with all and sundry on a human level.

The shutdown is obviously an attempt to underline the limits of AI but it also serves as a fine and necessary reminder of how readily we have surrendered people like Monica, with their knowledge and experience, to keyboards and touch pads (which, of course, don’t require salaries, benefits or lunch breaks).

But — and this is important — computers are tools not workers. Alas, that has not kept companies in virtually every industry from drastically cutting back on trained and experienced employees and handing large portions of their work (mental if not physical) to people, in this case doctors and nurses, who already have demanding jobs of their own.

But hey, you get a company iPad!

Nurse Dana (Katherine LaNasa), left, and Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi (Sepideh Moafi) have to resort to paper, clipboards and white boards to keep track of patients after the hospital’s systems are shut down.

(Warrick Page / HBO Max)

Often, including with those patient portals, what was once paid labor lands in the lap of the consumers, who in “The Pitt” are people sitting in an emergency room and likely not at the top of their game when it comes to filling out forms about their medical history or coming up with a unique password.

ER dramas, like the “The Pitt,” are inevitably fueled by the tension between the demands for speed and the need for humane care, something that is increasingly true, if not as intrinsically necessary, in all facets of our culture.

With computers in our pockets, we now expect everything to be available instantly. But when something in our online experience goes wrong, we need an actual human to help us fix it. Unfortunately, as the overwhelmed staff of the Pitt discover, those people are increasingly difficult to find because they have been laid off — even nurse Dana can’t do everything!

Dr. Al-Hashimi, like many, believes that patient portals and AI-assisted medical notes will save time, allowing the doctors and nurses to spend more of that precious commodity with their patients. But, as Dr. Robby and Dana repeatedly argue, what they really need is more staff.

There’s no point in saving a few minutes at the admittance window, or on an app, if you are then going to have to spend hours waiting for or trying to find someone who can actually help you when you need it.

That is certainly true in the medical sector, where digital technology has done little to eradicate long wait times for medical appointments or in emergency rooms. Being treated in a hospital hallway by people who can barely stop to talk to you is not an uncommon occurrence for many Americans. The U.S. is facing a critical shortage in hospital staff, with the ranks of registered nurses and other medical personnel having plummeted post-pandemic, often due to burn out.

The amount of time the staff of “The Pitt” spend with each patient, while dramatically satisfying, is almost as aspirational as the wisdom and goodness of Dr. Robby.

None of these problems is going to be solved by AI or any other “time-saving” device. We have not, as far as I know, figured out a way to extend an hour beyond 60 minutes or modified the human body so that it does not require seven to nine hours of sleep each night.

Medical institutions aside, I can’t think of any place I have visited lately that wouldn’t have benefited from more paid and experienced workers, especially those who know how to do things when computers glitch or fail.

The minute Monica sits down and starts barking orders in the ER, everyone feels much better. Here is someone who understands what needs to be done, why, and how to make it happen. Moreover, she has eyes, ears, hands and human experience enough to know that, in the end, people are less interested in saving time than getting the care they need.

In the ER and everywhere else.

After six TV series from 2013 to 2022, which caused a worrying surge in flat cap-wearing among well-to-do men in country pubs, Peaky Blinders is now getting a hefty standalone feature film, a muscular picture swamped in mud and blood. This is the movie version of Steven Knight’s global small-screen hit, based on the real-life gangs that swaggered through Birmingham from Victorian times until well into the 20th century. Cillian Murphy returns with his uniquely unsettling, almost sightless stare as Tommy Shelby, family chieftain of a Romani-traveller gang, a man who has converted his trauma in the trenches of the first world war into a ruthless determination to survive and rule.

As we join the story some years after the curtain last came down, it is 1940, Britain’s darkest hour and Tommy is the crime-lion in winter. He now lives in a huge, remote mansion, far from the Birmingham crime scene he did so much to create, alone except for his henchman Johnny Dogs, played by Packy Lee. Evidently wearied and sickened by it all, Tommy is haunted by his ghosts and demons: memories of his late brother, Arthur, and dead daughter, Ruby, and working on what will be his definitive autobiography. (Sadly, we don’t get any scenes of Tommy having lunch with a drawling London publisher or agent.)

But a charismatic and beautiful woman, played by Rebecca Ferguson, brings Tommy news of what we already know: his malign idiot son Erasmus Shelby, played by Barry Keoghan, is now running the Peaky Blinders, a new gen-Z-style group of flatcappers raiding government armouries for guns that should really belong to the military. And if that wasn’t disloyal and unpatriotic enough, Erasmus has accepted a secret offer from a sinister Nazi fifth-columnist called Beckett, played by Tim Roth, to help distribute counterfeit currency which will destroy the economy and make Blighty easier to invade. Doesn’t Erasmus know what Adolf Hitler is going to do to his own Romani people? (To be fair to Erasmus, a lot of the poshest and most well-connected people in the land didn’t either.)

Clearly, Tommy is going to have to come down there and sort this mess out. And we get a very ripe scene in which soft-spoken Tommy turns up in the pub full of raucous idiots who cheek him. “Who the faaaaaack is ‘Tommy Shelby’?” sneers one lairy squaddie, who gets horribly schooled on that very subject.

In this movie, Tommy Shelby is against the Nazis, and he can’t get to be more of a good guy than that. (Tommy has evidently put behind him memories of Winston Churchill from the first two series, when Churchill was dead set on clamping down on the Peaky Blinders.) The war and the Nazis are a big theme for a big-screen treatment and screenwriter Knight and director Tom Harper put it across with some gusto as a kind of homefront war film, helped by their effortlessly watchable lead. Maybe you have to be fully invested in the TV show to really like it, although this canonisation of Tommy is a sentimental treatment of what we actually know of crime gangs in the second world war. Nevertheless, it is a resoundingly confident drama.