Well, Disney World was a bust. Who knew the Magic Castle Motel was right next to the Magic Kingdom? Unfortunately, that accidental booking left no money left for a plane, so we’re catching a bus to our final Sean Baker locale: Texas City.
As Baker’s only film to take place in the Lonestar State, Red Rocket holds another distinction. Sure, Prince of Broadway’s Lucky was a scam artist. And Tangerine’s Sin-Dee was a raging, hot mess. Halley from The Florida Project had plenty of her own issues, too. But Red Rocket’s Mikey Saber (Simon Rex) holds the honor as Sean Baker’s least likable protagonist thus far. Yet even he — in all of his scummy glory — gives us something to root for. (Or at least some good ol’ schadenfreude.)
In Red Rocket, Mikey returns to Texas City after a nearly 15-year stint in L.A. as a porn star. With some resistance, he moves back in with his technically still wife, Lexi (Bree Elrod), and his mother-in-law, Lil (Brenda Deiss). Desperate to pay rent and virtually unemployable because of his adult film career, Mikey sells weed to keep himself from destitution. His fortune changes, however, after Mikey meets a 17-year-old redhead, Raylee (Suzanna Son), at the local donut shop. Over just a few weeks, Mikey devises a scheme to return to porn with Raylee, leaving Texas and everyone he’s leeched from behind him … again.
How Sean Baker finds gold in a scumbag
From the moment he winds up on Lexi’s doorstep, Mikey plays the victim. He pushes responsibility for his career’s collapse on bad colleagues turned into even worse roommates. At the same time, he assumes Lexi and Lil can’t take care of themselves. He positions himself as both in need and needed.
And to a certain extent, he’s not wrong. Lexi and Lil essentially live in poverty as Lexi, a former porn star herself, tries to sustain her and her mom with sex work through Craiglist. Lil also struggles heavily with meth addiction, which Mikey is quick to call out. He sees them as his perpetual safety net, given his mom is allegedly in a nursing home and despondent. (Mikey’s mother is only mentioned once in the film’s first act.)
Another example of Mikey’s paper-thin character emerges in his “friendship” with Lonnie (Ethan Darbone), Lexi’s longtime neighbor. A few years younger than Mikey, he learns Lonnie idolized him as a kid. Later, after Lonnie is humiliated at a local mall while pretending to be a veteran, Mikey berates him for using such a lie for profit. He insists that Lonnie is the lowest of the low and that Mikey “can’t be associated with that shit.”
Lonnie is, admittedly, living a lie for the sake of profit. But so is Mikey. What unsettles him more so than the ethical issue is the damage it does to his image. Whereas Lonnie stole valor, Mikey clings to valor that he never truly had. He believes he’s entitled to success and that his legacy was stolen from him. Yet his profit in porn was dependent on every woman he recruited, worked with, and eventually sold — including Lexi.
Despite all this, Baker still makes Mikey compelling as a sort of renegade. He’s a pest that persists through unimaginable debt, beatings, and even a multi-car pileup. His unrelenting ambition creates a force that — regardless of the direction it’s heading — we want to see fail or prosper. He’s like Llewyn Davis if the Coen brothers’ character used his dick instead of a guitar.
The eternal dream of a suitcase pimp
Mikey was a character that Sean Baker considered nearly 10 years before Red Rocket. The filmmaker explored the concept of a “suitcase pimp,” a male actor who relies entirely upon female porn stars for his success, while conducting research for his 2012 film, Starlet. This germ of an idea ultimately led Baker to pose the question that serves as the backbone of this film: How does the suitcase pimp persist when his luck has run dry?
Sure, Mikey’s pursuit of Raylee drags him through — and possibly out — of Texas City. But Baker’s editing paired with Drew Daniels’ cinematography paints a vivid picture of Mikey’s being.
One subtle shot involves Lonnie’s father. Mikey waves and greets him from across the lawn. Lonnie’s dad seems to wave back at him with a handful of garbage, only hurl it abruptly, and perhaps Mikey, into the dump. In another scene, he calls one of his old connections to explain how he plans to return to adult film with Raylee in tow. Seagulls swarm the frame as he sits on the pier, as if to imply that he too, is a desperate creature clinging to every morsel he can find.
It’s hard to argue that his naked run through his old neighborhood isn’t the culmination of everything he’s earned. It is in most ways, but an even more poignant scene comes shortly before the film’s climax. After winding down a sex-filled weekend — including a session they filmed — Mikey hears Raylee’s cover of NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye.” (The song also serves as the film’s main theme.) The shot slowly pulls in as he sits on Raylee’s bed, awed and enamored. It’s as if this song strikes a chord deep inside, reminding him that his existence is forever fleeting.
Mikey will continue to run, aimlessly if he has to. For as long as there’s someone to take advantage of, his rocket will never run out of fuel.
