‘I Love Boosters’ review: Keke Palmer, Naomi Ackie and Taylour Paige anchor Boots Riley’s anarchic SXSW opener

Dir: Boots Riley. US. 2026. 105mins

Not content with making a modest comedy about stylish shoplifters, Boots Riley’s imaginatively outlandish fast-fashion satire I Love Boosters continues the director’s penchant for maximalist social statements. Riley’s visually loud, pro-union story concerns three boosters—people who swipe products from department stores to sell on the street —who band together against an exploitative designer mogul. Though its many narrative twists and amusing turns might wear down less adventurous viewers, this film will be embraced by those who enjoyed the director’s dystopian critique Sorry to Bother You and his equally scathing series I’m a Virgo.

A strong cast hold together Riley’s spasmodic vision

Premiering as the opening film of SXSW, Neon will open in the US on May 22 and look to take advantage of Memorial Day weekend audiences. While it most decidedly is not targeted toward vacationing families, the film figures to play well with younger adults searching for eventized spectacles. Its potential as an early summer hit is boosted by a marquee cast composed of Keke Palmer, Naomi Ackie, Taylour Paige, LaKeith Stanfield, and Demi Moore. 

While fast-talking booster Corvette (Palmer) spends her days teaming with Sade (Ackie) and Mariah (Paige) stealing glamorous fashion for profit, her actual life is anything but enchanting. She squats in an abandoned fried chicken restaurant with dreams of starting her own clothing line. Her inspiration is bellicose fashion magnate Christie Smith (Moore), a woman who – as described by a documentary within the film – is a prodigy, who has used her mathematical and engineering skills to found a multi-billion dollar fashion chain. 

During one of Corvette’s raids, which involves her posing for a job interview while Sade and Mariah steal in the background, she notices that one of her own designs that she submitted to Christie’s fashion competition has been ripped off by the mogul. Consumed by feelings of betrayal and worthlessness, thoughts symbolized as a giant rolling ball of bills and debts, Corvette and her team decide to seek revenge. (Amid her vindictive pursuit, however, one does wish we got more of a sense of the designs Corvette would like to create.)

To gain retribution, the trio of women get jobs at one of Christie’s stores selling her monochromatic wares, joining employees who want to organize against the company’s unfair labor practices. In one funny scene, Corvette and Sade get into starting blocks before sprinting to take their 30-second lunch break. A resistant Corvette, however, remains fixated on Christie, an anger that only deepens when Christie goes online to insult the boosters. Her plans change when a Chinese sweatshop worker appears, through fantastical means, with a similar goal of breaking Christie for her low wages and use of cancerous sandblast denim. The quartet band together to rob every single one of Christie’s stores in the Bay Area. 

Like Sorry to Bother You, I Love Boosters is intrigued by the grifters who swarm around exploitative environments, while various news segments also show Black folks fulfilling stereotypes for attention. Sorry To Bother You star Stanfield appears as a mysterious model, with Prince-esque curled hair; we’re never quite sure whether he is romantically interested in Corvette, or wants her for other means. Each person has their own hustle, which, in Riley’s eyes, makes it difficult for them to band together against a single oppressor. 

Believing that more is more, Riley overburdens his film with strange gags doubling as cogent anti-capitalist critiques. He moves between chiding the vapidity of fashion designers—Moore is fantastic delivering several acerbic burns—and denouncing apathetic middlemen like Corvette’s store manager (Will Poulter). Sometimes the film is an outright farce, at other points it’s a heist flick, sex comedy, sci-fi adventure and grotesque body horror movie filled with carnival-esque music composed by Tune-Yards. Likewise, the whiplash style juggles minimalist costuming with kaleidoscopic abstract fashion, Looney Tunes inspired pratfalls with jarring claymation, and existential dreamscapes with warped visions of reality. 

A strong cast hold together Riley’s spasmodic vision. Ackie and Paige are broad yet exhilarating, landing oddball punchlines without missing a beat. Stanfield is hypnotic, while Moore moves with sharp intensity. Palmer reminds audiences why she’s among the best comedic actresses of her generation, mixing inspired line readings with a keen ability to balance biting absurdism with tender humanism. She gives this pro-union film – a rarity in American moviemaking since the Red Scare – its spit and fire, encouraging workers to confront a world beset by corporate greed.