Enter the Nightmare-Fueled World of "Josie and the Pussycats"

               Once upon a time, in a world of soda fountains and family-safe shenanigans, there was a boy named Archie. Archie is and was the star of “Archie Comics,” a deeply mismanaged funny-book targeting (it seemed) the same demographic as Bazooka Joe. Over the years, Archie has had countless spinoffs, including Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Afterlife with Archie, and the inexplicably amazing Archie Vs. Predator. Today we’re going to talk about the least-known of the spinoffs, the 2001 Universal Studios blunder, Josie and the Pussycats.

               “Hold it, pal,” you say, lowering your croissant, “ain’t this a literary blog? Where the hell’s the literature?”

               Well, yeah it is. But your Loyal Writer is finishing up the second draft of a novel and he’s a bit tired, so a reaction-post about a pre-teen pop parody is about all he can do right now. Okay?

               “Fine, but... Aren’t you worried you might alienate readers who come here for high-quality, intellectual stimulation—”

               Hey, relax. I know what I’m doing here. Besides, this movie has Alan Cumming in it. And the Illuminati. Everyone loves those two things specifically, right?

               “Actually…”

               Ah, shut up and eat your hypothetical croissant.

You can feel the obscurity seeping out of every pixel, can’t you?

               So, Josie and the Pussycats. This movie was based on a comic of the same name published by Archie Comics. Josie and crew were pretty popular back in your parents’ day, and even had their own cartoon. Which is weird, given that her gang… doesn’t really have much personality. Don’t blame Josie, though: they’re not allowed to. They needed to be inoffensive in the way 60’s cartoons had to be: vacant-eyed, eternally cheerful, and ready for family-friendly adventures every Saturday morning.

               Also, they went everywhere dressed in leotards and cat ears. That’s not weird. Why would that be weird at all?

              

               … Okay, I lied. It’s super weird.

               Josie and her pals were mostly forgotten by society, until in 2001 Universal Studios decided to resurrect them for a quick cash-grab. What they expected was a paint-by-the-numbers, predictable teenage adventure with photogenic stars, which might net them some profit. What they got was a huge financial flop with embedded warnings of corporate greed, world-spanning conspiracies, and subliminal messaging. Understandably, there were no sequels.

               Which is kind of a shame, because it’s a good movie in a vapid, early-00’s kind of way. Josie came out in April 2001, so I’m not surprised it’s been forgotten—a year later we were pushing Freedom Fries and watching George W. waddle into a quagmire. But Josie deserves to be remembered for its surprising, inexplicable, and wholesale rejection of consumerism.

               Josie opens with an N-SYNC style group playing to a crowd of cheering teenagers. We see already this is a rough world to live in: without a Nick Carter or a Timberlake to crush on, the teens of this universe must settle for Seth Green, Breckin Mayer and… Donald Faison? What the hell are you doing here?

Run, Turk, run! You have an amazing sitcom career ahead of you! Don’t get affiliated with this movie!

               The movie proceeds to mock its own boy-band relentlessly. This is a tongue-in-cheek nod at stupid fads which Disney has also done, and it’s all fun and games until Alan Cumming figures out the boys are getting wise to subliminal tracks in their music. And he proceeds to kill them. Yep, he parachutes out of the plane and it crashes. We aren’t treated to a gruesome explosion, but presumably it happens off-screen. Damn!

               Having crashed this plane with no survivors, we are then introduced to Josie and her bandmates Melody and Valerie. Josie is heart-sick over the “cutest boy” in Riverdale, a knockoff Cobain type who’s apparently allergic to shoes. Shouldn't Josie’s unrequited love be someone with a job? Who doesn’t sing about truck engines? Whatever, la vie boheime, I guess. We’re also introduced to Josie’s shitty manager and his sister, who are only characters because the movie needed more SUPER ZANY and MAD GRODY behavior, because that’s what brings kids to theaters.

Damn you, focus groups!

               After the weird 90’s nostalgia-bomb that is Josie’s house, we snap back to Alan Cumming as Wyatt, who--we feel obliged to remind you--is still a murderer. Our murderer is looking for a band, and wanders into a mall. Things get terrifying real fast.

Wyatt tells the mall DJ (because it’s 2001, and they have those) to play a new track from the band he turned into jerky. The DJ does, and the mindless consumers around them are re-wired to want new stuff. Yeah, seems legit! He also gives some random Biff-looking teen spontaneous alcoholism. Hooray for capitalism! (Not pictured in this clip: An edgy goth girl rejects his subliminal message and is dragged into an unmarked van, faster than a Saudi professor acknowledging the existence of Yoda.) By this time it’s clear: Alan Cumming is an actual supervillain. All hail our snarky new overlord?

But wait: the conspiracy goes deeper. Wyatt picks up Josie and co., since he needs new musicians to replace the ones he burned alive, and Josie is skeptical. But her band-mates are totally down! so they fly to the big city! With Josie’s beau! What could go wrong?

Sweet Jesus.

So… THAT’S a thing, I guess. The movie has neglected to mention until now that NYC, Riverdale, and possibly all of America are slowly becoming Mega-City One. Corporations own the city skyline, the local decor, and quite possibly the air. How edgy! It’s almost like the movie is trying to tell us something, about reckless consumerism.

I wonder what they’re getting at?

Our heroine and her crew are deluged with luxury, but all is not well. A stalker keeps leaving them warnings not to trust the record label, Wyatt’s auto-tune machine turns their vegetarian into a Big Mac lover, and we’re given a back-stage pass to the inner workings of a pop-music conspiracy. It’s led by Wyatt’s boss, villainess-slash-fashion-abomination Fiona (Parker Posey.)

“Could you at least TRY to look menacing for this scene?”

In true teen-movie fashion, the antagonists are more bumbling than terrifying, but they’re also selling mind-control headphones to the U.S. government. And they’re doing all this in the name of “stimulating the economy.” Don’t worry, they’re job creators, it’s fine.

By now we’re in maximum anti-Wall Street territory, smuggling as many Marxist undertones as our humble Universal kids’ movie can abscond with. The characters are constantly surrounded by branding, which has double-duty both advertising to the audience and reminding us how annoying it is to be advertised to—and this was back in 2001. I can only imagine the horrors a modern Josie reboot might bring us. Mind-reading Pandora ads? McDonalds-sponsored extra stomachs? Man, I’m glad I don’t live in their universe. Or do I? Maybe I’m being mind-controlled right now! Maybe we all are! My third eye is opening, I can see Hypercubes! Must… build… tinfoil hats! 

Speaking of mind control, the use of the band’s cat ears (as a subliminal messaging vector) is a clever little commentary. “The Man” has taken Josie’s endearing gimmick, and turned it into a soulless money-making machine. Her music itself is then remixed and used to turn her into… well, kind of an asshole. She drives her friends away by acting like a diva, because the psychologicalfallout of wealth and fame is hard to unpack inside one hour and thirty-eight minutes. It’s easier to just say “Josie’s an asshole now, because of magic headphones.”

Schizophrenic personality swaps and BFF-breakups ensue. All standard Disney Channel fare, but it leads us to the best moment in all cinema. Because there is a scene, in this movie, where Carson Daly turns out to be an assassin working for the New World Order.

Did we mention this movie is for kids? The Pussycats provide valuable role model material here, by beating the shit out of their aggressors. Then they run to tell Josie and not the police, for… some reason. Josie, of course, isn’t having it, because she’s a Lizard Person now, and is helping the Masons erect a giant Xenu-pyramid beneath the World Trade Center. (No, none of that actually happens, but it wouldn’t be much of a stretch at this point.) 

Everything gets wrapped up in the climax with PG-rated convenience: the villainess turns out to just be looking for love, the mind-control scheme is derailed, and the U.S. government confiscates the cat-ear headsets, probably for use at Guantanamo. The dead band turns out to be alive—horribly maimed, but alive! They even get triumphant background music.

"After getting their skin cooked off, Du Jour's music improved considerably, and they put out a rustic folk album."

Everything is neatly resolved, with no loose ends at all except for… wait. The "Archie" universe is still run by corporations treating people like puppets. That hasn’t changed one bit by the end! This isn’t a resolution at all! But Josie and the girls get to sing a rebellious rock song about love, so... maybe that’ll fix their dystopia somehow. I don't know.

While soaked in post-90’s wholesomeness, this is the rare kind of kids’ movie which serves as a commentary on itself. And despite bad reviews, it's genuinely funny, with absurdist gags throughout, and Alan Cumming doing his best Atlas, carrying the entire movie like a boss. Parker Posey also deserves an honorable mention, for her creepy junk-food-addicted, gender-role-enforcing CEO. Really, the only REAL villain in this movie… is Capitalism. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. Open your eyes, sheeple!

And that wraps up my (hopefully) only interaction with the ridiculous Archie universe. Thank God I’ll never have to interact with this cornball cast again. Wait... What’s that, on the horizon?

Could it be? It is!

Another weird Archie-themed reboot, that NOBODY asked for!

               Oh, I gotta check this one out. See you guys in a few weeks.