April 11, 2001 |  Not content to merely recycle yet another slice of '70s pop-culture kitsch, the makers of Josie and the Pussycats have accomplished nothing short of alchemy. Drawing from the basic ingredients of a trifling TV carton show that, truth be told, is much better remembered than actually viewed, writer-directors Deborah Kaplan and Harry Elfont ( Can't Hardly Wait ) have concocted something sensationally exuberant, imaginatively crafted and intoxicatingly clever. Silly and sophisticated, ironic and effervescent, their lively live-action film is a candy-colored swirl of comic-book adventure, girl-power high jinks and prickly satirical barbs.

Taking their lead from the animated series, one of the lesser efforts in the Hanna-Barbera canon, and the Archie Comics magazine that spawned it, Kaplan and Elfont introduce their three leads – plucky singer-guitarist Josie McCoy (Rachael Leigh Cook), ditzy-blonde drummer Melody Valentine (Tara Reid) and levelheaded bassist Valerie Brown (Rosario Dawson) – as the hard-rocking members of a girl-group. In this new and improved version, however, the Pussycats are members of an unknown garage band, not successful bubblegum pop stars who moonlight as crimebusters while on tour. Instead of battling criminal masterminds who want to rule the world, they face the more serious challenge of remaining true to themselves, and to each other, while ensnared in the star-making machinery.

In the world according to Kaplan and Elfont, pre-fab pop stars are manufactured and sold to masses of pliable, trend-conscious teens, while shadowy government-corporate co-conspirators manipulate those masses to maintain social order and, more important, stoke a booming economy. (The latter plot wrinkle recalls Peter Watkins' Privilege , an unusually prescient 1967 drama.) Early on, when Josie introduces DuJour, a fave-rave boy band that's a spot-on burlesque of ‘N Sync, the filmmakers bare their satirical claws. From there, it's a quick hop to DuJour's private plane, an aircraft that's top-heavy with product-placements. (Prominent visual plugs for name-brand merchandise serve as a deliciously nasty running gag throughout the movie.) Unfortunately, DuJour doesn't remain in the air very long: Their flight is sabotaged by manager Wyatt Frame (Alan Cumming) after the band members raise questions about subliminal messages added to the mix of their CDs.

Driven to find new nobodies who can be transformed into pop-music icons, Frame fortuitously arrives in Riverdale, U.S.A. – yes, that's right, the hometown of Archie and Jughead -- where Josie and the Pussycats are barely scratching by. Frame promises to make stars of the young women, so they sign a contract with Mega Records and fly to New York. Also along for the ride: Alan M. (Gabriel Mann), a dreamy-looking folksinger who's like catnip for Josie; Alexander Cabot (Paulo Costanzo), the group's none-too-bright original manager; and Alexandra Cabot (Missi Pyle), Alexander's sister, a sour-tempered vixen who also has the hots for Alan M. There's actually no good reason for Alexandra to be on board. But, as she explains, “I'm here because I was in the comic book.” So there.

In hardly any time at all –- less than a week, actually –- Josie and the Pussycats are chart-topping superstars with millions of frantic fans, oodles of commercial endorsements and a cover-story profile in Rolling Stone. But there's a dark side to success. Fiona (Parker Posey), the vainglorious CEO of Mega Records, uses the Pussycats' CDs – along with recordings by other groups in her employ -- to slip subliminal hard-sell messages into the brains of teen fans. It's only the latest in her long line of devious mind games. (How does she keep anyone from spilling the beans about her chicanery? “Ever wonder why so many rock bands die in plane crashes?”) But she's eager to up the ante, to manipulate millions of minds during a blockbuster concert by Josie and the Pussycats.

Kaplan and Elfont cram so many inside jokes, knowing allusions and on-target parodies into Josie and the Pussycats that a second viewing may be mandatory for anyone who wants to savor all of the gags. The funniest bits involve efforts to control trends among teens by implanting perceptions through subliminal messages. (“Gatorade is the new Snapple!” “Heath Ledger is the new Matt Damon!” And my favorite: “ Can't Hardy Wait was an under-rated movie.”) No less a notable than Mr. Moviefone is embroiled in the stealthy brainwashing. And MTV's Carson Daly, played – omigosh! -- by Carson Daly himself, reveals his true colors as a ruthless co-conspirator and potential assassin.

Cook is a nifty Josie, Reid is a funny dumb bunny and Dawson hits all the right notes. The supporting players are a mixed bag -- Cumming goes just far enough over the top; Posey goes a little too far – but the overall level of acting is on the right side of cartoonish.

But wait, there's more: Thanks in part to input from famed record producer Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds, who's credited as an executive producer, Josie and the Pussycats has a soundtrack of original songs that are irresistibly upbeat and spiked with insidiously effective hooks. (Go ahead, just try to forget the punkish prom-queenly “Three Small Words” after you hear it.) All of which means, of course, that the movie will boost CD sales, which in turn will maintain high-profile visibility for the movie, which is turn will generate consumer interest in VHS and DVD issues. And that, too, is part of the joke: Josie is, frankly and unashamedly, a textbook example of the kind of product sold by the system that it satirically skewers. Which just goes to show you: A good satire spares nothing, not even itself.