Boots Riley goes for broke in his directorial debut, Sorry to Bother You, about a telemarketer named Cassius Green (Lakeith Stanfield) who quickly rises through the company ranks to find spectacular financial success. That description, though, is wildly underwhelming compared to the delightfully chaotic style and rhythm of Riley’s film.

Right before his big promotion, Cassius joins a union that has just struck its first blow against its employer’s oppression. His new promotion as a “power caller” grants him abrupt upward mobility that leaves his soul conflicted, struggling between the loyalty to his friends and girlfriend (an electric Tessa Thompson)—all viciously fighting oppression from the bottom—and this rare opportunity for success.

Here, Riley cleverly comments on famed sociologist W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept of “double consciousness,” an idea that suggests the splitting of a person’s identity when crossing socioeconomic lines or barriers. Cassius, a black man living in poverty, quickly ascends to a new social status with a job that forces him to use his “white voice” (provided by David Cross and dubbed into the film) to succeed. When trying to cross the union’s picket line, Cassius is pegged in the forehead by a ballistic Coke can, hurled by a woman who subsequently becomes an internet sensation. As a result, Cassius is left with a bleeding wound and a heavy bandage—a glaring reminder of his betrayal. Cassius won’t be denied, however, and repeatedly crosses the battle zone to get to his job.

Riley is careful not to suggest that upward mobility is a bad thing, as Cassius’s new position is much more than that. His enormous salary is tainted by the immorality of corporate greed. His “power caller” promotion demands that he sell the labor of desperate people working for a corporation called “Worry Free,” a company that offers the bare minimum (literally gross food and overcrowded on-site housing) in exchange for free labor. Cassius actively undermines his former union’s goals by directly contributing to the dehumanizing and heavily commodifying effects of corporate greed. In essence, he becomes the oppressor of the working class.

It takes something mind-blowingly heinous (something seemingly straight out of the Twilight Zone that I refuse to spoil for you) to confront Cassius, testing how far he’s willing to go for money. A very convenient cell phone video does generously help propel the plot in the third act. The conclusion, however, is so hilariously, horrifyingly crazy that you’ll feel like you were just dropped into another universe.

At the heart of Riley’s film is a man struggling to unify a group of people, along with the multiple pieces of his identity, to overcome a monumental threat to humanity. Its atmosphere is hazy, a dream that proceeds to smack you across the face and turn into a full-blown nightmare before your eyes. Its extraordinary, over-the-top style may not be for everyone, but Sorry to Bother You is an unforgettable adventure—a film so insane that it might not actually be insane at all? No, it’s definitely insane.

Sails: 4/5

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