They Cloned Tyrone is a future cult classic

I’ve revisited They Cloned Tyrone four times, and each time walked away with different insights and troubles.

That’s because They Cloned Tyrone is brilliant. It’s also a complicated film to talk about, because it is so culturally informed and tied to its world that a white man from Helsinki can barely grasp it.

It plays like a companion piece to Boots Riley’s superlative Sorry to Bother You. Like Riley’s film, They Cloned Tyrone is a bleakly comic sci-fi satire that repurposes blacksploitation cinema to highlight systemic racism and inequality in America.

It wrings out laughter from deeply uncomfortable subjects that challenges the viewer. This is a film that demands not just attention, but comprehension of what you’re laughing at.

It arrives on Netflix in the midst of the Barbie/Oppenheimer craze with absolutely no fanfare, yet it is just as subversive of a film. A call to action masquerading as a crowd pleaser.

John Boyega stars as Fontaine, a lowly drug dealer in a sprawling and downtrodden suburb identified as The Glen. His life revolves around a routine of pumping iron, roughing up gangsters, drinking, and scratch cards. He lives with his unseen mother, who hides herself away in television and community events.

One day, while collecting debts from the fast-talking Slick Charles (Jamie Foxx), Fontaine is shot to death by a rival gang leader.

The next morning, Fontaine pumps iron, has a drink, and loses out on scratch cards. Another uneventful day in The Glen.

But something is off. Has this happened before? And if so, how many times?

After the bewilderment wears off, Fontaine recruits Slick Charles and the driven Yo-Yo (Teyonah Parris) for help to figure out just what the hell is going on.

Knowing anything beyond this would spoil the fun, and They Cloned Tyrone thrives on unexpected thrills and audacious plot twists.

Spoiling things wouldn’t help, either. They Cloned Tyrone isn’t so much about plot as it is about theme and tone. It’s about the bleak realization that it takes a genre film to vocalize the justified rage against an unjust system.

It weaponizes laughter to force audiences to confront some harsh truths of how happily ignorant we are about how our society is built.

Yes, it’s funny and superbly written. But it’s gallows humor that drives the bus. A darkly humorous understanding that the alternative is to burn shit down.

Anchored by an impressively physical performance by John Boyega, They Cloned Tyrone deserves better than a quiet midsummer release on a streaming service. In a just world, it would be a midnight show favorite. A sneaky performer on DVD that grows an audience over time.

It is a stealthy cult classic. The kind of film people speak of in hushed tones until its audience grows so loud it becomes a sound of thunder.