APRIL 4, 2008 - VOL. 1, ISSUE 9

There he stands in the studio, preparing to lay down the next hit single. His mouth opens, his eyes tighten, and with all the passion in the world, he starts recording one of the greatest songs of its time—but there is no sound: no instrumentals, no vocals, nothing. No matter, it doesn't stop the people. The masses call it brilliant, they scream his name in joy, and they want more. He is their savior; he is too cool for words.

Pootie Tang is an entity of his own, living in the city of Chicago. At face value, he doesn't really seem to have any outstanding talents, other than having women think that he's sexy—the reason behind his sex appeal is never directly discussed. Yeah, he's funny, but his musical abilities are lacking, and his performances for films (such as his classic Sine Yo Pity on the Runny Kine) don't go past the occasional ass kicking and smoldering look, after saying something nonsensical like "Capatown" or "Sa-da-tay." His appeal is elusive and confusing, to say the least.

It becomes clear, however, that Pootie is not only a pretty face, but also a modern folk hero for the black community in Chicago. In one of the opening scenes of the film, Pootie kicks the asses of a gang of drug dealers, attempting to peddle drugs to kids. He saves the kid from a life of hard crime and continues to do public service commercials for the city.

Clearly, the intention of director Louis C.K. in making Pootie Tang is to make a film that people can laugh at without thinking about. The prevalent use of slapstick comedy and cheap jokes is far more intentional than any heavy-handed social statement. Accidentally, however, the movie becomes about America's fascination with celebrities and need for a guardian. In a swift, genius move, C.K. combines "Pootie Tang: Celebrity" with "Pootie Tang: Hero." It makes so much sense—in order to have a superhero figure, the hero needs to have a celebrity status.

It’s interesting to see how Pootie qualifies as a celebrity. The people love Pootie Tang for his good looks. They think he's talented, relatable, and wonderful. His catchphrases—despite not always being actual words in the English language - become extremely clear with his delivery and body language. He's a smooth brother—a la Shaft—who speaks a language that resembles English, but is a little closer to pidgin—a language that roots itself in shorthand and slang while still utilizing English in a very convoluted way from traditional pronunciations. His talent, however, is almost like that of Britney Spears and Paris Hilton: he's fascinating, but mostly because of his sex appeal and dialect.

Look at the back page of the Chicago RedEye, the local commuter newspaper. It only covers celebrity news. If Chicago were to ever rely on a folk hero, they'd need one they could read about on that back page. If he wasn't sexy, fashionable, or talented in some way, the city would ignore him. Pootie's celebrity status makes him a hero worthy of Chicago's people and media outlets.

In the film, Pootie Tang is played by Lance Crouther, an otherwise unknown writer of various B-list TV shows. One of the selling points of the movie is Crouther's performance. He plays an exceedingly cool, laid back man who leads a healthy lifestyle, devoid of junk food or drugs. Throughout the film, Pootie acts as a role model for kids to stay out of trouble with drugs—he serves as the anti-Super Fly. With a wide array of things to accomplish, Crouther's performance is impressive.

The film lies heavily on a web of incredible performances. Crouther and the supporting players in the film are all on top of their comedic game. With stellar performances by Dave Attell, Andy Richter, Wanda Sykes, J.B. Smoove, Jennifer Coolidge, Chris Rock, David Cross, and Bob Costas, I find that I am more obsessed with these comedic A- and B-listers rather than the face-value celebrities that the media puts so much emphasis on. Put simply, I easily prefer Andy Richter to Ashlee Simpson. I could talk about the comic techniques of Smoove or Sykes in comparison to the bland acting styles of superstars like Angelina Jolie or Ryan Phillippe, but it all really boils down to how relatable each person is. I'm not saying that each character is just like me and I can compare myself to them. What's important is the way they carry themselves—like real people as opposed to deities, better than all who surround them, much like Ashlee Simpson.

The main point of the film lies in a corporation that pushes liquor, cigarettes, and junk food to children. They seek to make Pootie Tang their spokesman, but he shuns the idea. Eventually, the corporation tricks Pootie into being the spokesman by getting Ireenie, a seductress hired by the corporation and played by Jennifer Coolidge, to seduce him. She steals his "magic" belt which gives him the power to kick the asses of drug pushers. Stealing his belt strips him of his power, and he has to leave the city in order to find himself. He moves to a cornfield to meditate on his life without his belt.

Finally, he goes back to confront his problems. In the process, he learns that the belt isn't magic, but just a regular 50-cent belt that his dad bought at a Piggly Wiggly. Pootie didn't need the belt, for the power lied within him. Again, C.K. jumps past the genre of "comedy for the sake of comedy" and accomplishes showing that the power lays within us. Pootie regains his confidence, beats his corporate nemeses, and everything returns to normal. Everybody lives happily ever after and the bad guy gets his.

At the surface, Pootie Tang is no more than your average Lindsey Lohan or Chad Michael Murray—a bad performer with a lot of attention from the press and the public. But it becomes clear that he is a modern Robin Hood. He has become popular because he is a protector of the people and the guardian of the community. He's also popular because he has a scene where he sings a duet with Missy Elliot, so I suppose it's a double standard.

Sue me, but I loved Pootie Tang. The film is strikingly funny, strangely relatable, and endlessly quotable. It endorses the thought that the people's celebrity can be more than just a freeloading cokehead who just parties and makes an ass out of himself in the tabloids. Maybe, for once, the greatest hit maker or movie star could be an honest to God role model.